Chapter 1

Daughter of Claus

[Mana is the powerhouse of the soul]

The young girl entered the cold room that the two men led her to, holding her arms close to contain all of her warmth. She gazed around the spacious area, from the grand marble columns down to the spacious chasm in the floor, filled with freezing cold water larger than any river she had ever seen.

When she shakily glanced over the edge, an immediate lump stiffened in her throat. 

If there was a bottom, she surely couldn't see it behind the abyss of dark water. A pit that was seemingly never ending.

“Where are we?” She hesitantly asked, her tiny voice echoing from the corners of the room.

“We call this a Mana Reservoir,” a soft-spoken man in blue replied, calmly gesturing to the chasm, “Here in New Temperantia, Albrun is the life source of all Esprits, and our mana is created from it, which powers our souls. We Esprits can produce and retain a certain amount of mana at any given time. However, you produce too much mana for your soul and body to handle.”

The girl frowned, pulling her attention away from the pool and towards the men, “Is… that a bad thing?”

Then, the other man in red approached her, placing his gloved hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently. “In the long term, yes, but that’s why we made this room for you. One day, you’ll be strong enough to keep all the mana you make, but until then, you can leave it here. You won’t get sick anymore.”

The girl’s gaze shifted from the man in red to the giant pool, “I won’t?” She asked, the worries hastily replaced with hope.

“Correct, young one,” the man in blue chuckled aloud, “This water was streamed directly from the Capricornous Mountains, from a lake known to have special purifying properties. If you submerge yourself, the water will force the extra mana to expel from your circuits, and as time passes, your mana will replace the water, You will be able to activate your dormant Mana Circuits and your soul’s capacity will increase. Eventually, your sickness will subside entirely and you’ll be able to live a normal life. Well, as normal a life an heiress could live.”

The woman blinked into nothingness, floating weightless.

Every muscle ached and her very pores stung from her scalp to her toes. She stretched her limbs, though the action allowed sharp jabs to ricochet through her body. As excruciating as the pain felt, she had almost become used to it; just enough to call it soothing.

It was the freezing cold water, however, that was the true challenge. For every second she remained underneath, her brain screamed at her to surface. Not due to lack of air, but from the sheer frigidity of the water.

She abhorred the cold, but her entire life revolved around it.

In her youth, it was merely a fascination of naivety. A far away mountain that only she and her mother could see. A sacred place that she had begged her mother to visit, only to consistently be told “when she got older”.

As the days slowly progressed and weeks rolled into years, that child-like, vibrant wonder molded into a sharp disdain, and the woman began to understand the mountain’s true nature. From its extreme temperatures to its work-driven denizens, the country of Mt. Wynter was apathetically distant from the rest of Aeon.

How could one consider a glacial hellscape “home”?

When the woman blinked again, the blackness slowly gave way to a glowing light that pooled from her body in wide, glittering ribbons of ice blue, spreading out further until it illuminated the water she floated in.

She stretched her arms over her head and flexed her calves, feeling her shoulders, fingers and knees pop and crackle below the surface. Then, she rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck, allowing the pain to melt away with the ribbons of light.

This time-consuming routine was second nature to her, an unfortunate requirement for her continued existence. 

As she shifted her body around to guarantee loose, relaxed movement, the woman swam upwards until her head bobbed over the water. With the assistance of her mana illuminating the space, she could finally see the room clearly.

It was grand, yet simple, with elevated pillars of white marble that lined the corners, save for the enormous pool of pure mountain water mixed with her own mana.

She waded through the Mana Reservoir until she reached the edge of the pool, pulling herself over the ledge and out. As the woman stood up straight, she grabbed her long, dark hair, squeezing the excess water from her roots to the ends, her eyes travelling down into the darkened abyss. As spaciously lit as the pool was, even after all the years of storing her mana in the room, there was still pure water in the depths.

‘Still black… I haven’t reached the bottom yet…’

The woman turned away from the water, releasing her hair as she walked towards an ornate metal door. The air of the smaller room was colder than the pool she had left, but she had always attributed it to the unfortunate side effect of her requirement.

The side room was personalized solely to her needs, though she didn’t personally own much; on silver wall hooks hung a soft blue towel, a matching colored silk robe, and a soft teal wool cloak, lined with white fur on the hood and hem. An all-white vanity with hexagonal mirrors and snowflake sconces, a single brush, and a silver pocket watch dangling on a hook. Her uniform of blue and black sat neatly on the vanity table.

It was more akin to a locker room, though to her, it felt no different than the Barracks. The only real plus side were the fluffy rugs.

The woman allowed the door to close behind her as she moved further in, her eyes catching her naked form in a wide mirror before she could reach for her robe.

Her hair was still moist, extended to her glutes and wildly loose curls to the tips; her shoulder-length fringe sticking to her cheeks, neck and forehead. Her well-toned body felt invigorated, but only momentarily. Chocolate skin dewy and refreshed, despite the myriad of old, jagged scars that marred her arms and legs.

She looked like a whole new woman, but the bags under her glacier blue eyes told the unfortunate truth.

The fourteen hour dip in her Mana reservoir was a momentary reprise from the never-ending work she was due to complete, and her day had just begun.

A light ticking caught her attention, turned towards the hanging pocket watch. She lifted the device closer to her face, taking a moment to carefully inspect the picture; a small routine the woman had done every morning since her days at the Military Academy.

On the left side of the watch sat a picture of a woman and little girl. The woman in the photo wore a tired smile with experienced, soft brown eyes. Her dress was cinched at the waist and adorned with pink and yellow flowers on the hem of a white base. The dress was old, but well kept in general. She gazed fondly at the child in the blue dress next to her; around ten years old and brimming with excitement, eager to learn about this foreign world around her.

How blind and naive she was then. 

How sentimental she was now of that decade of her life. 

How regretful she was to not have cherished it longer.

The woman sighed, trying to calm her thoughts with a mantra she learned from a friend.

‘Inner peace…be calm…’

Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't, but at least she had one to work with in her stressful work environment.

After a few moments of admiration, she closed the watch and placed it back on the hook, her thoughts interrupted by a curt rapping of knocks against the metal door.

“Yes?” the woman called aloud as she pulled on her dark blue arm and leg warmers; not for warmth, but to hide the old wounds.

“Good Morning, Commander, we got shit to do.” A man's voice sounded from behind the door, deep and soothing to the ear, like a comforting warm hug. 

“Good morning, Bast. I’m…already in a mood, so please don’t take it personally.”

“Rough night?” the muffled voice asked.

“Didn't really have time to sleep,” the woman lamented, sliding black fleece-lined pants up her waist, “Mana expulsion took longer than usual.”

“I noticed. How far did you get?” He questioned, curiously.

“I’m still sitting about three quarters of the way down,” she sighed, “No changes since Maius.” 

“Well, maybe it takes more time to flip the properties from pure water to unfettered mana,” The voice explained carefully, neither condescending nor snarky. More informative than anything.

“You said the exact same thing in Maius,” the woman retorted, hastily buttoning her blue waistcoat.

“That was before you started your Mathematical Politics studies,”

“You mean the very same studies I’m still working on?”

“Didn’t you move on to Governmental Resources?” Bast questioned

“Apparently, my studies weren't sufficient enough,” the woman responded.

“Well, I’d hate to segway to our favorite bitch of the north so soon,” the man called from the door, “But she summoned for you a few hours ago. I already told her that you were preoccupied, but she wouldn’t accept that for an answer.”

‘A message from little bitch Mrs. Claus, huh?’

Her face subconsciously scrunched at the thought of her “boss”. The woman was spiteful, decrepit and petty beyond all reason; the commander’s enemy in all regards.

“She knows I cleared my schedule for extraction…” the commander sighed, her signature frown plastered on her face as she laced up her right boot up to just under her knee, “You know, if it weren’t for the fact I had to expel my mana on an irregular basis, I would have let it take me years ago. Maybe then, she would’ve let me rest.”

“Nyxis, no,” the man argued sternly, nearly cutting off her words, “Remember what Roza said.”

“The only thing I’ve done in the last year was speedrun my way to extreme sleep deprivation. She won’t let me leave, nor will she let me relax,” the commander confessed, hastily plating and pinning her hair back into a neat bun; a skill she learned from her military days. “I’m already cooked, Bast.”

“You’re not cooked. You don’t have a lot on your schedule today, so maybe you can sneak in a nap,” the man started, “Let’s get through the general public concerns that need clarifying and verifying before we walk up to hell.”

“Go ahead.” Nyxis sighed, placing the last pin into her bun before grabbing her light teal cloak and throwing it over her shoulders, clasping the sapphire brooch in front. She was proud of her sleeper build, and loved that she could hide it behind a thick cloak.

“The Herd are preparing for the Reindeer Games and Dasher requested the Commander to attend as a formality. The date is set for Novembris 15th, but he wanted to confirm early with you to lock in the date.” Bast rattled off the first item quickly. He learned early on to keep his reports short for less delay and easier communication.

The woman lifted the pocket watch from its designated hook and placed it into her inner cloak pocket, patting it down for reassurance. “Confirmed. Wynter knows she wouldn’t be caught dead attending a “trivial and mundane shit-trough”.”

A hearty chuckle muffled from the door, but he continued. “Then the Workshop wants to implement a new alteration to the gift wrapping center, to extend the line to include one hundred and twenty seven more seats for incoming volunteer helpers.”

The commander blinked.

‘Today is the first of Novembris; even if the Witch approved it, there weren’t enough workers to build it.’

The door to the side room opened fully by Nyxis, wrapped in her cloak and staring at her advisor, bemused. The dark skinned man in front of the door stood taller than herself, sporting his signature Ringfeld House red waistcoat with a distinct white fur trimmed collar. His thick, snow white hair fell over his shoulder as he bowed respectfully.

“Wait, no. Why would they wait to begin such substantial alterations so close to the Yule? I could have pushed that through four months ago without hesitation. But now, I’m not sure the Witch will approve it.” The woman asked.

Bast shrugged as he stood straight up, shaking his head and lifting a clipboard in his arm, “They couldn’t obtain a permit in time, but we can try to bypass the system and get it approved without her knowing.”

‘Inner peace…Be calm…’

The commander huffed, “She only cares about the results, not the process. Fine; see what you can do about that, and reach out to Father Wynter if necessary, but only as a last resort. What’s next?”

“Some of the troops over in Frostlyn would like to schedule their PTO,” he noted, sharp green eyes lifting from his clipboard.

“Have Henry review them, and I’ll approve them later,” Nyxis nodded.

“The next shipment of Amnis Powder and Glacier Petals for the Creation Station is still delayed and the citizens are worried that the decorations aren’t going to be ready in time.” Bast tapped his pen on the clipboard in his hands, moving to the side to allow the woman to exit the room.

“Send a message to the Frostlyn Navy and tell them to check the radars for any merchant, trader, or harvesting boats coming from the north. If necessary, send one of the ships out for recon and potential rescue.” She assured the man. 

The duo made their way towards another door, wider than the side room and made of a thicker metal, sliding open from the center with a quiet mechanical whirl. Past the door was an elevator, illuminated by cold white lights on the ceiling. When they both stepped inside, the mechanical whirling came to life as the doors closed, beginning the 1,700 meter ascension back to the commander’s chambers with a comforting hum.

“The Moon-Lake Ballet Troupe arrived last night and are resting in the Crystal River Suite of the Valkyrie Hotel. They are ready to practice for the celebration and are asking for permission to use the Grand Ballroom as their practice room, to familiarize themselves with the space. This is their 4th request as the season approaches.”

The commander shook her head and huffed, exasperated. “Another request that could have been completed earlier in the year had she been approving these requests timely. What is the point of a review-and-approve system that she doesn’t even care to enforce?”

“Because why would she care about the mundane complaints from the common folk when she could just sit on her throne of deceit and abuse, carried by her favorite work mules?” Bast rolled his green eyes with disgust.

His disdain for their ‘boss’ rivaled her own in measures only she could truly understand. Nyxis believed that reason alone sheltered the absolute trust the elves held in each other. The man in her shadow served as her family’s advisor for the past 9 years, her Personal Relations representative on social occasions and her therapist on hundreds of work-filled sleepless nights.

Her only brother-in-arms upon Mt. Wynter, trudging with her through a mental war of attrition.

With a soft bell, the elevator doors opened, indicating the end of the ride and allowing the duo to step out into a grand bedroom of blue and silver.

The king-sized poster bed was made and unwrinkled, adorned with curtains of snowflakes and platinum hexagons. The ashwood desk held a neat stack of various books upon its surface, all in hues of blue and red, some opened while others were closed. Across the room was a smaller sitting area housing a fireplace of chiseled white brick and a set of comfortable chairs, all atop an extensive rug emblazoned with a distinctive snowflake glyph.

They paid the room no mind, passing through it towards another door, one of white ashwood.

Bast opened the door as Nyxis exited into the bright hallway, with the man closing the door behind them. They walked down the hall to the nearest staircase, but their conversation didn’t waver for a moment.

Nyxis’s brows furrowed as they traveled down the staircase. “My my, I take it she’s in a pissy mood today?”

“The day you don’t ask that question would be a good day,” the man frowned, “I know for a fact that she is not in the mood to sign basic permit papers. If we’re going to get anything done in time for Decembris, we’ll have to quickly finish ‘Cleaning the castle’.”

The commander rolled her eyes in annoyance. ‘Cleaning the castle’ was an elven code for forging the Witch's signature on official documents.

The process consisted usually of a particular group of scholars who are loyal to the citizens of Mt. Wynter, all of whom were chosen personally by Bast and herself, respectively. The group is casted into the Forgers; studying handwriting from over the centuries and creating accurate replicated signatures. The Forgers signed requests so miniscule that in comparison to the thousands of important petitions of the Mt. Wynter citizens that the witch herself wouldn't be able to remember signing it.

The fact that Nyxis even had to sign off on such executive decisions was stressful enough on the Tier 1 Paragon. She didn't have all of the tools to assist the city, but she had just enough time to set a plan for one of the busiest months of the year. 

The most she could do was support the citizens from afar, and even with what little resources that she had to share, it still wasn’t enough.

It infuriated Nyxis to her very core.

‘Inner peace…be calm…’

They moved along the grand staircase, hastily descending from the West Wing to the landing of the main hall. Nyxis halted at the landing of the ground floor, with Bast right behind her. “‘At least the castle will be tidy’ enough for the guests,” the commander responded back briskly, “Is there anything else, Bast?”

‘Call the Forgers; get it done.’

The man slightly bowed his head, fluffy, white hair moving in kind. As silly as it was to use a secret code in the home they share, one could never be too careful. Under the Witch’s rule, she was the castle, and the castle was alive.

“I believe that covers everything, but we should pay the Valkyrie Hotel a visit at some point today, to welcome the dancers.” Bast checked off all the items of their meeting, tapping on the final unresolved item listed on his clipboard.

“About that,” Nyxis turned to him, worry stitched into her brow. A face she wore quite frequently in matters of Mt. Wynter that the man attended to daily. Her emotions were usually collected and controlled, rarely overreacting to even the smallest of issues. But there were times where even Bast would notice them; the little flashes of emotion in her eyes, ranging from contemplation and frustration, to a deep never-ending rage. She always wondered how she didn’t go over the edge. 

“I may not have time to go, depending on what my ‘duties’ are today. Adding insult to injury, there’s no guarantee that their request will be granted if her mood is that of Grim Grass, but they still need a venue to work out of. I’ll do my best to get them the access to the ballroom as early as I can, but in the meantime, can you make your way over to the West Library and ask Roza for help? I’m sure the troupe would love their first official greeting from Mt. Wynter Officials to be from the Prima Donna herself.”

“You do know that’s going to be a favor, right?” He mused.

A deep sigh erupted from the woman, “First one of the week is free.”

Bast smiled lightly as he bowed to the Commander. “Of course, I’ll add that to the list and see to the preparations.”

The woman nodded to her advisor and gazed up at the main hall. The rays of light from the mid-afternoon sun shone through the cathedral-like high ceilings, glistening their path of glittered ice under a Christmas Red carpet. The scene was gorgeous, but then her gaze shifted from the glittering ceilings to the menacing air of the East Wing of the castle.

The Witch’s Suite.

With a groan, she moved over to the other set of stairs, with Bast in tow, and walked up. They moved in silence up the stairs, passing one of the hurried seamstresses, her arms filled with reams of red and silver cloth.

“Good morning Lord Ringfeld, Commander Frost,” she said swiftly in passing. The two elves watched as the nymph hurried down the stairs without looking back. Sharing a harsh look of confusion, they hastily ran up to the third floor.

Upon ascending the stairs, the sight was absolutely chaotic; more so than any other usual day, especially at one in the afternoon. From servants quickly floating along the walls to others cleaning the various areas, the East Wing was crowded with castle staff.

And further down the vaulted ceiling hallway, they heard the enraged shouting of a woman, then the sudden shattering of glass.

The entire hallway suddenly stood still with fear. The servants all craned their necks around to the last room at the end of the hall, but none of them dared to move.

Nyxis rolled her eyes and turned back to Bast, whose expression matched her own.

Without losing a beat, they walked down the middle of the hallway, surprising the servants with their boldness to approach the room. Their gazes shifted hesitantly between each other until they ultimately dropped to their knees, either in a bow or a curtsey. Out of fear, the servants respected Mrs. Claus.

But out of complete and utter respect, the citizens of Mt. Wynter all adored Commander Frost.

The elves approached the room, with Nyxis knocking on the golden ornate door.

“Enter.” A snarky voice came from behind the door.

With a deep breath, she opened it and walked into an enormous room with shelves of various books and scrolls stacked end to end and high to the stone ceilings. The windows were tall with dark red curtains pulled back to a glorious view overlooking the Capricorn Mountains and the Northern Lighthouse. But in the middle of the room stood an enraged woman with golden hair tied into a queenly high bun; in her very familiar crimson red day dress, her pale complexion marred red with rage.

Next to the woman sat a young girl, no older than sixteen winters, silently crying while holding her cheek. In between them sat a shattered ornate vase, the Glacial Roses it previously held now wilting into a puddle of muddy water on the red carpet. 

Bast stilled as he took a quick scan of the situation. He began to step forward, but Nyxis positioned her arm in front of him, pausing him. She cleared her throat and moved her gaze to the woman.

‘Be calm’

“Good Morning, Mrs. Claus.” The Commander started, steeling her nerves. “I believe you summoned me?”

The golden haired woman switched her glare to her “Commanding Officer”, “About time you’ve arrived,” she jabbed, annoyed at her attendant’s tardiness. Her voice was stern and regal, and heavily condescending. “It would help if you could appear instantly when summoned, but several hours late is quite… negligent, don’t you think, Commander?”

“Ah, yes. You will have to forgive me. After several months of overseeing the majority of the preparations for Yule, and then my own obligations, even your graciousness can understand the ever-present need to rest. After all, not all of us are so magnificent as yourself to be able to stay awake for days on end, partying with the elites.”

The advisor tapped on the Commander’s shoulder twice with his clipboard in warning.

‘Calm down’

The red-dressed woman glared intensely at the elves in her presence then switched her gaze to the young girl on the floor. “Leave us.”

The young nymph bowed to Mrs. Claus, Commander Frost, and Lord Ringfeld respectfully, quickly gathering the many vase shards in her apron, and ran out the room with fresh and dried tears streaking her face as she passed. The male elf side-eyed the Commander; when she nodded curtly, he bowed to ‘The Witch’ then exited the room as well, closing the door behind him.

The Commander had always tried her best to be civil in front of a room of people.

However, if left alone in a room with her “boss”, all bets were off.

Mrs. Claus turned around, sauntering over to her desk. “If I didn’t know any better, child, I would believe that you were purposefully being insubordinate.”

“Now now, Rowena, why would you think-,” Nyxis was cut off by the loud smack of a heavy book. The source of the noise came from Mrs. Claus’s desk; a heavy book of Autumnal Ruin Traditions. She noticed it by the vibrant orange, red and yellow hues on the spine.

The book did not belong in this country, and to possess it without explicit permission from the Reyes de Los Muertos was strictly forbidden within the laws of the treaty.

For Mrs. Claus to possess the tome, her only solution would have been to steal it.

“Don’t play games with me, you little shit!” The woman sneered at the elf. “You had better watch your attitude and tone when you address me in front of those…troglodytes, Remember that any words of disrespect towards your Leader is an act of defiance.”

Nyxis matched her boss’s glare, tapping her fingers at her sides. “Stealing a text from a different country is also an act of treason, but you don’t see me traveling through country lines to obtain a book.”

“Just who do you believe you are speaking to, Frost? You of all people should know that the Jack Frost position is expendable and that I can find literally anyone to fill that position; Choose your next words very carefully.” Rowena loomed over her desk, her glare turning deadly. 

“You would have to explain my termination to Father Wynter with a detailed report, and I have reason to believe that you haven’t touched a single request or petition since your extended ‘Summer Vacation’. The citizens need help with the decorations for the Yule-,” she tried to reason with the arrogant woman standing before her.

Another slam from the book. Damaging goods purposefully is a crime.

“I don’t need you to remind me what my job is; you should focus on your own!” The blonde lifted the book in her hand, waving it, “You’re four hours late and I don’t see the list of events worthy of my time on my desk anywhere. What the hell have you been doing this whole time?!”

“Alabastor prepared you a list-“ Once again, Nyxis was cut off.

“How many fucking times must I emphasize that I don’t attend meager holiday celebrations!? I do not care about intermingling with other nations! That is Father Wynter’s role as Realm Elder, not mine!” Rowena’s glare intensified, “So once you complete that task, you can go disrupt that Ruins holiday; Dead Day, or whatever-,”

“It’s Día de Los Muertos,” Nyxis corrected her boss, tilting her head with a sneer, “You’d think by actually reading the book that you’d know how to pronounce it.”

‘Inner peace…be calm…’

“And you’d think, as a useless Paragon, that you would actually complete a simple task for once. Now go make yourself useful and dust the Ruins with snow,” Rowena bit back, lowering herself into her throne of a chair.

“When do I have time to do that, what with literally maintaining the livelihoods of the citizens and preparing Mt. Wynter for the season change? I’m trying to manage it all, but without the resources-,”

“Haven’t I given you enough, Frost?” The woman shook her head in disbelief, her words seething, “You have a castle to live in, you have a job that many unfortunate people would kill for, you have a unit under your command, you have Legacy Ice Magicks in your very veins. You have the literal world at your fingertips, and yet you want more!?”

“I-,”

‘I have nothing and you know that!’

‘Be calm.’

“I do not care about the needs of those people, that is why we have advisors! Managers! Supervisors! It’s called delegation, my dear! Mt. Wynter has tiers of control for the people to answer to, and it is not you!” Rowena gestured to the easternmost window overlooking the town before placing her elbows back on the desk, “Need I remind you that you are to only take orders from myself or Father Wynter!? And with that being said, my orders are as such; Go to the Autumnal Ruins tonight and start the snow showers early to end their meager festival early.”

“You want me to halt another country's holiday because…?” The elf huffed. There truly was no rhyme or reason for this type of infiltration.

But then again, there was.

“Because I said so! The first snowfall of the season can start as early as Novembris, as we had done for centuries past. Is there an issue with that order, Frost?” Rowena crossed her arms over her chest in annoyance, her face contorted with a sneer.

Every encounter, every debate with the Leader of Mt. Wynter was a war of attrition.

A war in which the Commander had to carefully pick and choose her battles.

A war she always ultimately lost.

With a firm shake of her head, Nyxis frowned. “No, Ma’am, no issues whatsoever,” the commander said with a low growl.

‘Inner Peace…Be calm…’

Rowena smirked for the first time of the day, “Finally, a decent reply from an underwhelming dog of an assistant.”

Nyxis’s left eye twitched. She exhaled slowly, her blood boiling in her veins. She had to still try. Despite the constant berating, and despite the unwillingness to work with her boss, she had to still try, for her people.

“Before I leave, we received a request from the Moon-Lake Ballet Troupe. They wish to expedite the use of the grand ballroom for practice, but they are waiting for your approval,” the commander began through gritted teeth. 

Rowena rolled her eyes, exasperated, “Well, that is just too unfortunate! If they wanted to begin working on their little dances, then they should have requested that earlier. They will have to wait until Decembris; denied. Now, if there is nothing else from you, then you may leave.” 

‘I should jump over that fucking desk and beat the breaks off you.’

Nyxis said nothing else and bowed curtly. She opened the door behind her, passed backwards through it, and closed it quickly without facing the woman further. She stood there for a moment, trying to get the blood pulsing in her ears to calm down.

Another battle lost. But on Mt. Wynter, the war rages on.

The elf turned around to a group of servants in the hallway huddled near the entrance of the room, facing the now closed door. One of the nymphs stepped forward, wearing a simple red dress with a tan, raggedy apron and holding a newer, but equally gaudy silver vase with freshly placed Glacial Roses in her arms.

“Commander, is everything alright?” The woman questioned. 

With a sigh, Nyxis gave an exhausted smile to the woman. “Yes Arielle, there’s no need to worry.”

Then, she addressed the entire group, waving them over to speak quietly. They all leaned in, careful not to create any noise. “Everyone, thank you for your concern, but please return to your duties. I won’t return to the castle until well into the evening, so please try to keep heads low as you work and stay out of sight, if possible. She’s in a mood.”

The servants murmured quietly amongst themselves, then with various bows and curtsies, the group dispersed quickly, either returning to work or leaving the wing entirely. The nymph behind Nyxis tugged on the other woman’s heavy blue cloak, grabbing her attention.

“We really do appreciate you lending a hand in regards to ‘The Witch’, but you should probably take your own advice. The last thing you need is a target on your back.” Arielle whispered. 

“I would love to, but our leader doesn’t care about the livelihoods of her servants, much less her people. If I can keep the heat off your backs for issues out of your control, it would be my pleasure,” the commander turned back to her, tapping her hand in reassurance.

The nymph, however, was less than convinced. She placed the decorated vase on a side hallway table and grabbed hold the elf's hands within her own, gripping them lightly. 

“Ma'am, if I may speak candidly…” Arielle began, “You are an absolute boon to this country, and I just don't want to see you get fired, exiled, or worse. You and Bast work so hard for us, and she wants to make you miserable for no reason. Don’t let her win just so she could ruin centuries of celebrations out of spite.”

The commander tapped on the other woman’s left hand twice with her thumb, before rubbing the spot softly. 

‘Warning’

“You worry too much; she can't fire me without approval from the Courts, and we both know damn well that Father Wynter will not accept that,” Nyxis smirked, slightly confident in her answer.

‘At least, I don’t think he would…’

Arielle huffed, blowing her light brown bangs out of her face to reveal a smirk, “I swear, you are so hard-headed.”

With a curt smile, the commander shook her head, “No, I'm just confident. Now, where’s Bast?”

The woman pointed further down the hall, to a set of ornate red and gaudy silver benches. Bast was crouched in front of the young servant that had run away from Rowena’s study, consoling the young nymph. The women moved back down the brightly lit hallway, and as they approached, Nyxis watched the girl twitch with hiccups, trying to catch her breath and rubbing her eyes. The light taps of feet along solid ice floors alerted Bast, and he switched his gaze to the duo.

“How is she?” Nyxis questioned as the women approached. The girl flinched, but the man sighed deeply and stood up straight, moving back a bit. 

“Still a little shaken up; she said that she was cleaning up the study, but was startled by a loud sound and accidently dropped the vase. The Witch suddenly got angry and slapped her. She doesn’t want to go back there,” the man put it simply.

Arielle shook her head, her face scrunched with a sneer, “I don't blame her, especially after what happened,” she reached for the girl’s hand and pulled carefully, signaling the young nymph to stand. 

With her face no longer shrouded by her hair or the dark corner, the young brunette stood, stricken with fear and donning a new bright red mark on her cheek in the shape of a handprint. Dried tears streaked her face and her brown eyes were red and puffy; the sight broke the older nymph’s heart.

“You did nothing wrong, Gemma,” the head housekeeper pulled the girl closer and hooked her arm carefully around her shoulder, gently rubbing her back to soothe her. She looked between the advisor and the commander, nodding assuredly, “Let me bring her down to the servants’ quarters first, then I’ll return and clean up the mess; the bitch will have to wait for me to return.”

Bast eyed the head housekeeper in stern warning, “Careful, the walls have ears.”

“We’ll walk you down,” Nyxis piped up.

The commander walked with the nymphs, with Bast in tow, out of the darkness of the East Wing back into the safety of the glittering Main Hall. When they reached the foyer, the older nymph bowed politely to the two, and floated with the girl past them down the stairs and towards the kitchen. Once they were out of view and earshot, Bast turned to Nyxis.

“So, on a scale of one to ten, how bad was it?” He asked.

“Whatever level dumpster fire is in,” The woman admitted. She started to move down the stairs, but the man grabbed her cloak, tugging her back.

“What’s the damage?”

“She’s pissy about the list you made, still hates my very existence, and vehemently denied the ballet troupe until Decembris 1st, so they need another venue to use until then.”

“She fuckin would…” The man sighed, quickly scribbling something down on his clipboard that floated in the air next to him, “Are you willing to pull another favor from Rozaliya?”

“If I truly have to,” she answered, watching him return his focus back to his notes.

“And what does Mrs. Claus have planned for you today?”

“Snow Drop Duty, but only on the Ruins. Apparently, she’s starting her shit early this year,” she turned back to the man on the stairs, “Must be nice to be that fucking bored.”

“On Día de Los Muertos? One could almost assume that she is trying to break decorum by sending her Commander into a country with tense relations,” the advisor muttered. 

“Well, she’s already in possession of stolen material, so I don’t think that she cares much about decorum. Any chance of a restored treaty is dwindling for every minute that book is on the premises,” Nyxis explained. She watched as her advisor’s eyes widened slightly. Surely the cogs have started turning in his head.

To hold forbidden material from another country was treason, something he knew well. He looked sternly at the elf.

“How do you want me to proceed?” Bast queried.

The woman stood with crossed arms concealed under her blue cloak. She could not do much for the citizens today, and yet she was willing to somehow fix the impossible.

“What do you suggest?” Nyxis questioned back.

“If she’s still pissy about that list, I can make up some bullshit list for next year’s ‘worthy holidays to attend’, but by her standards.” the man began, writing swiftly on his clipboard.

“Keep her in her own circle since that’s what she’ll prefer. While you’re at it, find out what her schedule is, so I know when she’s going the fuck away,” the woman ordered swiftly.

“Sounds easy enough, and the stolen material?”

“There’s a book in her study with a tri-colored spine,” the commander pointed briefly to the East Wing, then nodded back to the West Wing, “We have to somehow steal it back without her noticing. If you can manage it, return it to my room. I’ll grab it before I leave and bring it back to the Ruins before anyone realizes it's gone.”

“That is a pretty steep plan. Are you certain it will work?” The advisor’s brow furrowed with worry.

“Bast, she’s fucking with me, just so she can get me fired,” Nyxis sighed deeply. “Every day is a battle. She’s doing everything she can to keep me out of public affairs, and while I want to help the citizens, we still need more resources in order to start Yule off without a hitch. The citizens need help, she doesn’t care to fix it, and I can’t do much of anything besides go drop three feet of snow on another struggling country’s doorstep for, what I can only describe as, either shits and giggles or out of pure fucking spite!!” 

Two taps on the floor.

‘Warning’

‘Be calm…’

The elf stood quietly, allowing the woman to catch her breath and collect herself.

The commander shook her head, defeated. Stopping an international tragedy was not on her to-do list, and yet it still somehow became her problem.

Like usual.

“I doubt it will work, but I don’t have any other ideas, unless you’re sitting on one,” she muttered softly.

He released her cloak and placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it softly, “I don’t have a plan, but I’ll make one up as I go. We've been doing this for centuries, so believe it or not, you can rely on me. I’ll handle the finer details; you go get ready to leave.” 

Nyxis looked up to the man, and nodded slowly. “Yeah, I'll…go now. Thanks again.”

With a reassuring nod, Bast released his hold and watched as she floated away, down the main hall stairs.

 He understood the weight she was under.

The elf was the only one close enough to the Elders that could speak for the people, but even then, she couldn’t compromise with that frustrating woman. 

Rowena didn’t understand that the Commander was the true reason the citizens of Mt. Wynter received any help whatsoever. When a situation arose, the people went to their Commander for assistance and support. Mrs. Claus was just a figurehead, a glorious display of old money and even older lineage.

But nothing Commander Frost could do would make the Witch come to reason.

The night was cold and dark, and the skies were clear of the clouds.

Nyxis flew over All Hallows, quietly admiring the architecture of the Gothic buildings, the beautifully designed dark buildings with sharp roofs and chimneys littered the streets.

Although for a holiday, the normally bustling streets were scarce with people.

Día de Los Muertos was a different holiday, one that was always held in the Forgotten City, Remisia. The Royal Family lead the citizens of All Hallows through the city’s Realm Gate of the Dead, where a grand festival is held with their family members that had already passed on. The celebration lasts for three days and three nights, so there would be no reason for the Royal Family to be home this evening.

The elf lowered herself on one of the balconies of the Los Muertos Royal Castle and peaked into an open window. She scanned the room for people, before stepping in quietly.

The room was filled with dark wood shelves lined with colorful spines of books and tomes, with additional opened books strewn along the dark oak tables. They paled in comparison to the spiked black chandelier dangling from the high ceiling. The air was still with the silence of the night, a blessing from the bustling noise of her own castle. 

She stepped in further, gazing in awe at the height of the bookshelves. Nyxis had always loved books, but more so learning. Any book she could get her hands on was studied carefully for new information about the world she was pulled into. At some point, her love of learning became a way to survive. As much as she would regret to say it, she yearned to open one of the numerous tomes to learn the secrets inside.

But doing so carried a possible death sentence.

Nyxis shook her head, returning her focus to the book in her hand. She turned around to one of the many dark oak tables and placed it down under one of the vibrant tomes, hiding it among the other colorful book faces. With an exhausted sigh, she moved back towards the window, floating over the edge of the balcony.

Part of her job was complete. No one saw her arrive, the book was returned to its rightful place and no one will see her leave. International tragedy avoided.

And yet, there was still an emptiness that lingered in her. After all, she should have been in Remisia, celebrating with the rest.

But not tonight. Another year missed.

‘One day…’

The commander was so deep in her thoughts that she didn't initially notice how low she was hovering. She floated to another balcony and lowered herself towards the railing, overlooking the grand city. It was quite rare for her to visit any other country ever, especially after the breakdown of the Equinox Treaty. It was a shame she couldn’t visit more, for its beauty could only truly be experienced at night.

Was it her job to ruin this solemn beauty?

Suddenly, the elf heard the opening twist of a doorknob. Without glancing back to see, she floated hastily to the left side of the window, out of view. The footsteps slowly moved closer to the balcony, then a man, donning orange and black ceremonial attire with a regal pumpkin orange sash, passed through the threshold of the window, continuing to the edge of the balcony. The blood drained from her face.

‘Shit shit shit shit shit! Not now!’

The elf watched the man sigh with exhaustion, overlooking the very city she was moments ago. Without making a sound, she floated upwards to the roof, focusing her eyes to the sky. She had to start the squall, before she was noticed. But then, a deep voice rang out in the quiet night air, in her direction.

“Now is not the time, Frost.” The voice was deep and warm, yet cold and distant. There was an air of exhaustion and frustration in his aura. Nyxis could feel the cautious glare on her face.

Enemy spotted.

‘Be calm…let's play this cool…’

“I never asked, Your Highness. I'm not here for you,” she watched as thick dark clouds moved over the city, cooling the atmosphere around them, “I honestly didn’t expect you to be here tonight. Don’t you have a party to be attending?”

The man clearly was not paying attention to the sky. Good.

“That’s none of your business, why the hell are you at my castle?” He growled. She could feel his glare piercing at her skin.

“You know why; It’s the best view in the house to begin my path. I am doing my job, after all.” She said simply. Well, it wasn't a full lie.

“It's Dia de Los Muertos. Can't you find another time to “do your job”? Let the people celebrate without the fear of pneumonia,” He projected above. Right then, she felt a sudden wave of hesitation.

Was that a plea? From a prince?

The clouds were in place. Nyxis finally shifted her gaze from above to the Prince of All Hallows under her feet, anger filled emerald green eyes meeting calculated glacier blue. “I think you and I both know I can't do that. Mrs. Claus wouldn't stand for it.”

“...Fine… If you have to do your job, then can you at least leave Remisia alone?”

He was pleading, a rare sight indeed.

“Hm, that will cost a favor, Your Highness, are you willing to part with one?” She smugly coaxed.

The elf noticed the Prince's right eye twitch. 

‘I'm really not supposed to be here, but maybe I can leverage this…’

“...What do you want?”

“A free favor, one that I can use on anything; anytime, anywhere.” The elf said.

His green eyes squinted in suspension. “Why extort a favor from me? Why not my father, or my uncle?” he questioned.

“I could, but I'm not talking to either of them right now, am I? I'm here, talking to you, and getting ready to do my job and lay the first snowfall of the season. But if there's a problem with that, then I-”

“Fine! One free favor from the Prince of All Hallows! Ya happy!?” The man screamed into the quiet night air.

He was definitely riled up, but was it from her presence, or something else?

The elf felt a smirk form across her lips. A favor from the Crown Prince of All Hallows was unconventional for a Wynter Esprit, especially in the treaty's current state, but it was always a welcomed occurrence. “Ecstatic…That's more than enough. Good evening, Your Highness. Always fun to frustrate you.” As soon as she finished speaking, the air swirled around her frame with snow and hail before disappearing into loose snowflakes.

Before she knew it, Nyxis had arrived back at the Realm Gate to the Equinox Court. She sighed softly, not even gazing at the miraculous display of architecture.

Tonight, she saw what could only be quiet desperation from her enemy. But was he really her enemy? The life she lived in Liliácea was nothing compared to the one she was living now. Her mother had always told her to give people second chances, even when they didn't deserve them.

‘But in truth, he did nothing wrong…’

Another exasperated sigh escaped her lips. She couldn't punish the citizens of a struggling country, not on one of their happiest holidays.

He owed her a favor, and after tonight, she decided that she would owe him one of her own.

An eye for an eye.

A favor for a favor.

‘Tomorrow is another fucking day…’