Chapter Text
“You’re going.”
“I am not.”
“Coal.”
“Eve.”
“That’s enough,” Kris says, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
The three of us are standing outside beneath a willow tree. The bark is inky black and what leaves remain on it are dried to a husky brown. Wax hangs in long finger-like protrusions from the branches where eerie candles sit.
Us three North Pole residents thought it would be a good idea to have this conversation outside where we wouldn’t disturb Hex’s parents. Our friends have kindly decided to remain inside, though how out of earshot they are remains to be seen. At least they aren’t visibly peeking through the curtains, so that’s something.
Kris stands between Coal and I, and I frown. How many times has he played the role of mediator? I don’t want to strain either of my brothers in the wake of this. It was always supposed to be my problem that I was supposed to fix.
I chose to date the guy. I didn’t see the signs. I’m the one who should deal with it. But I should have known the boys would not let me do this alone. I’ve never let them go through anything alone, not if I could help it. Sometimes it’s just hard to accept the same amount of love you give someone else. Especially after someone has so blatantly used you.
“Look, I’m sorry. I know it’s not… this just kinda sucks,” I say, avoiding heavier words and heavier feelings for the moment, “I don’t know what the right answer is. All I’m saying, Coal, is that… you won’t be betraying me by showing face at New Year’s. You know that right? Nov-“
I break off momentarily, unwilling to say my ex boyfriend’s name just at the moment. “His family isn’t the only one that runs the holiday. At least one of us should be there.”
“For the press?” Coal asks.
I internally shudder at the reminder of our father’s former image-first, emotions-later approach.
“For the collective,” I respond. “I know you don’t want me to be a diplomat right now, but one of us has to be. You worked too hard for it to fall apart after only a year. Especially over something so stupid.”
Coal’s frown shifts in a way that suggests he disagrees with the word ‘stupid,’ but understands where I’m coming from, so I add, “besides, it isn’t like we did anything wrong.”
They both send me lopsided smiles that match my own, as Coal says, “there she is.”
“Alright come here,” I say, holding my arms out, allowing a group hug.
“I can’t promise I won’t punch the bastard if I see him,” Coal says, startling a laugh out of me.
“And I can’t honestly say I wouldn’t mind,” I respond.
“How about,” Kris suggests, “you promise to try and neither of us check to see if you’re crossing your fingers behind your back?”
“Sounds fair to me,” I say, laughing a little.
“Square deal,” Coal responds in kind.
“Anything in particular you want me to say to any NYE family? Any speech you want Kris to draft up?” Coal asks as we head back inside.
“You know what to say. You don’t need either of us to figure it out for you,” I say, because it’s true. I know sometimes Coal still has the occasional confidence problem when it comes to being King of Christmas, so every opportunity I have to remind him just how much he belongs where he is, I take it.
“Thanks Sugarplum, you’re so sweet,” he kisses my forehead and dashes away before I can smack him in the arm.
“Coal!”
His laughter drifts down the hall, and as much as I hate the nickname, I keep smiling.
“You know he only does that because he knows it’ll piss you off,” Kris says beside me.
“What are siblings for?”
Kris laughs and shoves me a little. I shove him back, my heart lighter.
I spend a day or two more with my family in Halloween with plans to leave early on the day before New Year’s Eve. My brothers will know where I’ve gone, they’ll know where to find me, and it’s not like we don’t have phones.
Wearing my favorite sweater, the brown and beige one that looks like a cartoon reindeer face, I duck out of Iris and I’s shared room, leave a note of thanks for Hex’s family and magically vanish in a northern direction.
A heaviness leaves me as the familiar North Pole cold settles into my bones. Frigid and uncomfortable for some, centering and fortifying for me. Home.
I’ve always loved the dark wood of our palace, the accents of reds and greens and golds, the way it always looks lit by a cozy fireplace. The halls without windows are almost dark and fire-lit enough to appear perpetually kept in nighttime. A richly colored winter night’s respite.
Nothing but candy canes and gingerbread in that head of yours, huh sweetheart?
I grumble profanities under my breath and stalk to my room.
I just get my hand around the doorknob when I hear, “Princess!” shouted from my right. I tense and turn. Seeing who it is though immediately slackens my shoulders.
It’s Wren, a godsend of a woman, who keeps our entire holiday from grinding to a screeching halt. This woman has done more for myself and my brothers than any of us could ever properly thank her for. We owe her quite a few apologies as well with our frequent chaotic shifts around her carefully curated schedules and assigned wardrobes.
“Hi Wren, didn’t expect to see you,” I say.
“No, I don’t imagine you had plans to see anyone right now, which, by the way, apologies for both the interruption and the circumstances.”
“It’s okay-“
Wren gives me The Look, and I stop talking.
“I simply wanted to tell you a few things, if that’s alright?”
It’s phrased like a question, but sounds like an order. I nod. “Mhmm.”
“We’ve drafted a statement, you are welcome to read it, if you wish, we will not send it out without your approval.”
“Did Kris write it?” I ask.
Wren only smiles.
Unbidden, one finds its way to my face as well. “He didn’t tell me that.”
Wren moves onto the next item of her checklist on her tablet. “Samson has been told to expect you at the stables sometime soon, should you wish to visit the Team.”
My heart and smile warm a little more at the thought of our beloved four hoofed, antlered creatures. “Thank you.”
“I’ve even booked some ice time for you tomorrow with plenty of pucks as well as extra sticks should you accidentally break a few.”
The tentative joy I feel for this care package of an itinerary Wren’s designed shatters. I left my skates behind in New York. My red and green hockey ones. The ones my brothers had custom made specifically for me. They were and still are one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever been given. And I’ve lost them. They’re probably sitting in a nasty NYC dumpster right now.
“I lost my skates, Wren.”
She says nothing and holds out a box to me.
“What’s this?”
“Just open it.”
Dubious, I do. There’s a note resting on top of the soft yellow tissue paper inside.
Princess Evelyn,
I am tremendously sorry for the role I held in this… whole mess. I am usually much better with my words than this but I am struggling to find the right words to make up for such an event. I’m not entirely sure such words exist. I hope you aren’t further upset by my article but I felt our world had a right to know what happened, especially before a certain someone had the chance to spin the story in his favor. I am a NYE based reporter, but that does not cloud my judgement for what is right nor my commitment to publishing what is true. Words cannot express how sorry I am, but I hope this will help ease your mind and heart a bit.
Humblest apologies,
Aurora Nouveau, The New Year’s Times
I sigh and tear away the tissue paper and my eyes fill with relieved tears.
My skates are in there. Whole, safe and without a scuff on them that wasn’t already there before.
“Could you send her a-“
“Already done, Princess.”
I sniff, “thank you.”
“Additionally, and this is the last thing, I promise. You have received a few missives from three particular parties. I have blocked those messages from making their way to you, I hope the overreach is alright, but I will continue to do so until you tell me not too.”
It isn’t difficult to guess who she means. “Dad?” A nod. “Mom?” Yes, again which is actually a little surprising. “…Nova?” A final decisive nod that tells me just how little she thinks of my ex and I sigh. I’d blocked all three of their numbers, Nova’s only recently as Iris cheered me on from her side of our guest room. They must all have tried reaching me another way.
Nova is not a surprise, my parents are. Coal and Kris both seem to have gotten the brunt of things from Dad and Mom respectively. I was young enough at the time that I barely remembered what things were like before Mom left. It seems the feelings might be mutual because Mom never deigned to remember me. I was an afterthought at best. I’ve never told my brothers this, but I guess as I got older, I came to the conclusion that I was either a mistake or an ill-advised attempt to save… something. I don’t know any more, though, since Dad fucked off and the two of them renewed their vows. That he chose her and it seems to have worked. The fact that either of them, let alone both, tried to contact me in the wake of this after all but ignoring me for most of my life, swirls a new vein of sadness soaked frustration in my heart. They don’t get to just choose when they show up for me.
“Thank you Wren,” I say when I find my voice, “I… what would we ever do without you?”
“Be a lot less organized, at least. Of that, I’m sure,” she responds, trying for humor to lift my spirits.
“Thanks, I’ll uhm, I’ll be around,” I say, frustrated at my not knowing what to say.
“Of course, take care, alright?”
I nod stiffly and open my door, dropping my bag as I slide down it when it closes.
It doesn’t take long for an antsy energy to consume me and I finally move. I abandon the prepared statement for now and shove out to the reindeer stables.
A few hours with fuzzy creatures does me some good. So does getting out on the ice the following day. As expected in between activities I did get a barrage of texts.
Claus Kids + Peep
Coal
Eve?
Eve?!
Evelyn?
My dear, darling baby sister who I love very much?
CALL 911 MY SISTER IS MISSING!
SHE COULD BE DEAD IN A DITCH SOMEWHERE AND WE HAVE NO IDEA WHERE SHE WENT!
I left a note fucker
I said bye to Iris and even saw the triplets before I left
Coal
SHE LIVES!!!
WHERE ARE YOU
HOME.
Iris
[Song Link: Have You Seen My Sister Evelyn? by Evelyn Evelyn]
Coal this you?
You could’ve asked me
Coal
I wouldn’t have to have had my sister
TOLD ME SHE WAS LEAVING
Drama queen
I’m fine
Coal
Forgive me for worrying about my sister in her time of need
Ugh fine, thank you, love you, whatever
Kris
That’s the spirit.
Seriously, don’t worry about me
I’m doing just fine
[Photo: Selfie of Eve outside in the snow with recently cut chin length curly hair, kissing a reindeer’s face]
Iris
THE HAIR GIRL! FANTASTIC!
Also
Sprinkle!
Send her my love!
Already done <3
And thanks <3
Iris
Ofc
That text thread and the other ones I share with our larger friend group buoy me a little more in the hours prior to the day of New Year’s Eve. The next morning I’m up and out early to use that ice time Wren mentioned.
The rink I use is an indoor space. A bit odd, one may consider, for North Pole City, but sometimes it’s nice to be inside, on a intentionally made rink instead of a frozen pond. I like this one because it’s on the outskirts of town. Our paparazzi still haven’t figured this place out yet and our nobility don’t know I use it, meaning I won’t have to hear any “should-a-princess-really-be-doing-such-things-blah-blah-blah’ arguments. Though, I’ve done a pretty good job of outmaneuvering such elder members of our noble houses in the past that that’s barely an issue anymore. They know better than to set my frustration in their direction.
Finally, the people at this rink are nice and don’t worry too much about their princess slamming pucks and carving the ice in their space. They’ve known a certain side of me since I was way younger, and are used to me sneaking out here - and paying for ice time, of course - and blowing off some steam.
Hockey’s always been a comfort to me, I’ve played in some recreational leagues myself and am really enjoying the momentum women are getting in the sport. I always find the time to watch the women play. It’s a shame the New York Sirens have to share a city with my ex boyfriend.
The thought conjures his smug face in my head. Visions of golden bedsheets, sneers and not a single shred of remorse. I yell for more than just effort as I surge forward on my skates. I slam my stick into another puck and launch it straight into the face of the goalie standee I’ve set up in front of the net. The thick black disk dents the faux wooden face a bit as it bounces off and sails beside me on the ice.
“You know, something tells me you aren’t supposed to knock out the goalie’s teeth,” a voice says from one of the dugouts reserved for the teams that play here.
I turn to see Kris standing there, softly smiling with his arms crossed over a hoodless red sweatshirt with a stocking on it that says ‘I love getting stuffed.’
“Shouldn’t you be in Ireland, or something?” I ask, panting a little from the hours-long, hate-induced workout I’ve just completed. I skate over to the bench and take the water bottle Kris holds out to me, doffing my helmet and downing some of the water and splashing more of it in my face. Drops of water drip from my freshly cut shorter curls.
“Thought you might like some company today,” he says, grabbing the end of one short strand of my hair and twists it before letting it go.
He doesn’t need to say why he thought that. It’s New Year’s Eve.
“Yeah sure,” I say, a thank you in my eyes that I don’t voice, “we can go over that statement you wrote.”
“Or we don’t have to. Up to you.”
“Let me get this stuff off and we’ll head home.”
He nods and pats me on the shoulder.
As soon as I shower, I let Kris into my room. We take ten minutes to go over his proposed statement. It’s good. I tweak a word or two, but it remains mostly unchanged. It describes, from Christmas, a dedication to continue the collective as well as an assurance that We hold no ill will towards the institution of New Year’s or its families as a whole. It states that though we regret the actions of individuals, we are still committed to a friendly relationship between our holidays. It’s really good, likely an echo of most of what Coal is saying while he’s in New York tonight. I take pride in knowing that Kris wrote this not for anxiety ridden duty to our Holiday, but for me. Because he knew I wouldn’t be comfortable with anything other than something he’d written for this and he wanted to help.
We’re in the little sitting room section of my suite. It’s mostly identical to those in the rest of the palace. Rich dark wood, Christmas greenery draped over the mantle, gently roaring fireplace, long low coffee table, two comfy chairs and a matching couch. Where mine differs is the surplus of fluffy warm blankets practically everywhere, a handful of notebooks and binders in NYU purple left over from my recent semester kicked into a corner, and the general disarray that comes with me leaving items around. It’s a little messy, but it’s mine.
Kris sends me a video he took of me at the rink before I knew he was there. In it, I line up a shot, shoot it straight into the corner pocket and celebrate with a little jump on my skates after. It was one of the moments I had just lost myself in the joy of skating and holding a hockey stick in my hand.
I watch it again and decide to post it. Most of my social media accounts are mainly for the standard use of the internet. Usually cute Christmas pun based usernames that I found funny and I don’t really post much, at least nothing that could be traced back to being me. Shoutout to Tumblr. But, in the wake of the events that led to Dad’s stepping down and Coal stepping up, I decided to create my own - for lack of a better term - official account on a Holiday world specific site. One where I controlled what image I put out about myself. The fact that I never posted anything about me and Nova despite his insistence is another red flag I should have seen.
I caption the video something simple, Joy persists anyway, and smile.
The first like is Kris, he’s right next to me and I tagged him in it. Coal and Iris aren’t far behind followed by Hex, Loch, Siobhan and Finn.
I put the phone down and plop my head on my older brother’s shoulder. He smiles, hugs me, and we sit like that for a while.
In the quiet of the moment, my thoughts spin back to the recent events of my life. I try to think of something else, but, like my brothers, I’ve never been that good at mental health self-preservation and none of our brains listen to our wishes very well. Shoutout to our parents for that.
I think the worst part isn’t that Nova cheated on me. It isn’t even what he said to me. A lot of it was awful and I don’t agree that I deserved it, but I don’t blame him for his comments about Christmas. We are trying to be better but we weren’t for a long time and his Holiday suffered for it. The worst part, I think - and though I am incredibly grateful for the news breaking the way it did so he can’t backpedal and pin the whole mess on me - is that in the end of this whole thing, I still look weak and stupid. I shouldn’t have trusted him and I did anyway and got hurt because of it. Publicly.
I breathe out hard. I’m done being babied. I’m done with this itching pitying feeling crawling around in my heart. So I do what I do best. I get creative.
The blanket draped over me flutters and billows back down to the couch as I shoot up and across the room to grab a notebook on top of the stack. A green one with reindeer and gold music staff detailing painted on it. A gift from Loch this Christmas, likely an attempt in his bid to get Coal and I to like him after the unfortunate aspects of his and Kris getting together. With how happy he’s made Kris, he really didn’t need to do all that, but I still really appreciated the gift. Inside are blank music staffs, some are filled out but much of the book is still empty.
I sit back down next to Kris on the couch and stare at the page, tapping beats out with the eraser of my pencil, opening another notebook and writing stray lyrics and chords down as they lightning bolt into my brain. It’s a chaotic state of being, but it’s me and I love it.
Did I mention that a year ago I dropped out of Duke to study music at NYU? Well, there you go.
It’s actually how Nova and I met, we were studying different things but we saw each other in the library and recognized each other like that one meme of the two Spidermen. The good news is this breakup hasn’t ruined the joy that school switch brought me. I had to start almost completely over in my studies, but I’m enjoying this way more.
I pound out the beats of a chorus of a potential song and jot it down before Kris nudges me. I glare up at him but he responds by holding up his phone.
I pick mine up. Several notifications from the group chat appear immediately, but my eyes snag on another notification first.
There are tons of comments on the video I posted, an outpouring of support I didn’t expect to get. I smile as I scroll through and like a few of them. My eyes catch on one.
It’s from someone with the username Cassie_<3. Their profile picture is what looks like a girl with curly brownish pink dyed hair, dark skin, purple eye makeup and the prettiest smile I think I’ve ever seen. The comment left is a poem.
“Joy and woe are woven fine, / A clothing for the soul divine; / Under every grief and pine / Runs a joy with silken twine. / It is right it should be so; / Man was made for joy and woe; / And when this we rightly know, / Safely through the world we go. - William Blake, “Auguries of Innocence” (1863).”
I pause, reread the comment and smile. I like it, comment back a “thanks, that’s beautiful,” and then finally turn to the ever increasing notifications from our group chat.
Sleepy Hallow, St. Paddy, Their Boyfriends and the Best Holiday Girls
What’s all the drama about now?
Coal
The bitch ain’t here
Please do not call the prominent figure of a winter collective holiday a bitch
Coal
He hurt my sister = he’s a bitch
Kris
Agreed.
Coal
He’s lucky that’s all I’m calling him
I want to kill him
Icicle style
No one would know
What happened to that promise we made earlier?
Coal
We never said no killing
Hex
Dear
Loch
Prick deserves it but it sounds like the boy’s in proper trouble with the folks
Iris
Good
Thanks guys
Loch look
[Photo: Shot of Eve’s music journal, several notes in the beginning of a song]
Loch
Glad it’s useful, love
<3
Coal
SHE’S WRITING MUSIC!!
I’M SO PROUD!
I go to school for it
I probably should be doing it
Coal
will you still say you know me when you’re famous?
Prick
Coal
Whatever are you talking about?
I am very proud of my baby sister and her burgeoning music career
I’m allowed to say that
Hex control your boyfriend
Hex
Glad you’re channeling your feelings into something
Also, on it <3
Coal
I WILL NOT BE SILENCED!
Despite not being able to be silenced, there proceeded to be no notifications in the text thread. So much for that.
Cassie_<3 replies to my reply, “poetry usually is.” Then I get a message request from her. Not seeing any reason not to, I accept.
Cassie_<3 on Festive
How do you do that on the skates?
Well, you stand up on them and since they’re connected to your feet
No, I mean, it’s just really impressive is all
Not really when you’ve been doing it since you could walk
Modest, everyone says skating is hard
Anything you have to practice is hard
Have you never skated before?
An elbow drives into my side and I am pulled from my dms. I glare over at Kris who asks, “who are you texting?”
“This question coming from the guy who used to anxiety spiral over his phone?”
“Uncalled for,” he says and I momentarily hate myself for bringing up Mom with him, but he’s smiling so the feeling shrivels. “You were smiling. Who are you texting?”
“Is this an interrogation? Get off my dick.”
“I just want to know what’s got you smiling and whether or not I should leave you to it instead of turning the New Year’s coverage on.”
I put the phone away. “Just looking at comments on Festive,” I lie. “We can put the coverage on, I’ll be alright.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, asshole.”
Kris smiles, “okay.”
We watch the coverage, talking amongst ourselves, occasionally chiming in on the group chat. The boys and I used to do this together every year, ring the new year in by commentating the coverage ourselves. It’s not the same without Coal, but the coverage does briefly show him. He waves at the camera and I can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s waving specifically at us. Based on what my friends and family have said, Nova likely does not make an appearance when the Aulds, Langs and Synes do the countdown and year transfer. I wouldn’t know though, because I fall asleep on Kris’s shoulder, comforted by the platonic love I’m surrounded by - even from far away - and the exhaustion of the past few days, before the new year even happens.