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The first Christmas after the incident with the traitor was rough. Pica knew– the whole family knew– that Doffy loved the holiday and they were all doing their best to carry on the traditions and celebrations to lift the young master's gloomy mood. But Pica, an old hand at both Doffy's gloomy moods and his own, could see the hollowness beyond the good cheer.
The decked halls felt empty, not only lacking the traitor and the kid, but Vergo, too, was gone for another year. And there wasn't any fresh blood, either. The traitor had chased off a lot of the newer kids, and then, after the incident, Doffy had locked the doors to new members. The ranks were thin, and the real Corazon was away.
No wonder it felt empty.
Pica tracked quietly through the snow, finding Doffy sitting alone on a bench in the training grounds. Moonlight glinted off his glasses, and snow settled on his shoulders. Pica sat down next to him, careful not to tip the bench. Doffy slid right up close to him anyway, and laid his head on his side. Pica's arm was jerked up around Doffy's shoulders by threads that shone in the moonlight, and he took the cue to pull him closer.
They sat that way for a while, as the snow blanketed them. Pica didn't mind too much about the cold. Doffy was warm, anyway.
"What are they up to in there?" Doffy finally cut the silence like a knife.
"Mostly waiting for you," Pica answered softly. "Dia's teaching Derringer the words to that old Christmas song he made up."
"The dirty one?"
Concocted to make Doffy laugh back when they were kids, with the tune of a regular Christmas carol and the filthiest words Diamante knew.
"Yeah."
That got a chuckle out of Doffy, who shifted, nuzzling against Pica's side. "Guess I shouldn't miss the kid's education."
"We can sit here as long as you want, Doffy."
They sat there for a while longer, gathering snow like a pair of statues– Doffy regal and kingly, and Pica always his ungainly knight.
The moon passed behind a cloud, and Doffy finally hopped to his feet, tugging Pica upward with string like he'd often done when they were children.
"Let's go in."
Pica nodded, and followed along dutifully. He thought of blood on the snow, and wished that he could have relieved Doffy of the burden of the traitor's death. He pushed thoughts of skull crushing away, and tried to focus on Christmas.
Everyone cheered, raising their glasses when Doffy came back into the warm hall. Pica carefully dusted the snow off of him, and Trebol pressed a drink into his hands and told him not to catch a chill.
Doffy smiled and Pica could see the stiffness in it; but when Doffy raised a toast it was 'to family, not to blood'. And Pica remembered, and knew Doffy remembered, that what was between them could never be spilled on the snow.