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Agatha Bridgerton doesn't believe in Santa Claus anymore - thank you very much - but as any good big sister, she pretends. She wants to be the bestest big sister ever and - according to her parents - in order to do so, she has to keep the magic alive for her two younger siblings. She loves her brother and sister almost as much as she loves her stuffed bunny from Auntie El and doesn't want to ruin their Christmas the same way her cousin Edmund had ruined hers.
They had been playing in Grandma Violet’s living room while their younger siblings napped when Agatha had asked what Edmund wanted this year from Santa. Edmund stuck up his nose, pushing his glasses further up his face before crossing his arms, standing tall in front of the couch, and declaring that Santa wasn’t real.
She had tried not to let her feelings show, but deep down, she felt her world collapse. Had her parents spent the past seven years lying to her? Were they lying to her siblings as well?
Agatha let out a soft laugh, rolling her eyes and agreeing that of course Santa isn’t real and she’s just pretending for her siblings. Soon, Miles rejoins them and they start a new game of tag that stresses their grandmother out and all talks of Santa not being real ends as quickly as it began.
Later that night, as her parents tucked her into bed and read her a story, she asked them about what Edmund had said. Both her Mummy and Daddy looked heartbroken as they told her the truth, her Mummy telling her that she wished her baby believed in the magic of Christmas a little bit longer. Agatha grinned at her parents, promising not to tell her siblings. Her Daddy smiled at her, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head and whispered ‘That’s my girl.’
In an effort to keep the Christmas Magic alive for Thomas and Jane, Agatha listens to the two of them share what gifts they’re most excited to get tomorrow morning as they all decorate cookies to leave out tonight. She’s not participating in the conversation, too worried about giving something away, but then her little sister looks up at her with her wide blue eyes and Agatha can’t leave her hanging when she asks what gift she most wants with her sweet little voice.
“A Barbie dreamhouse,” Agatha replies as she smears green icing across a tree-shaped sugar cookie.
“Mummy says I’m too little for Barbies,” Jane huffs as she plops down on the seat she was standing on, her diaper cushioning her fall.
“You are,” her mummy says as she places a new bag of red icing down on the table.
Jane huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “How come Aggie can get Barbies and I can’t?”
“Aggie’s older than you, duhhh,” Thomas pipes up from the far side of the table, his hands and face covered in white icing.
“I hate being the littlest,” Jane grumbles, her arms crossed over her chest.
Her Daddy lets out a chuckle as he kisses the top of Jane’s brown curls. “Next year, you’ll be old enough for Barbies.”
Jane’s eyes go wide as she peers up at their father. “Promise Daddy?”
“I promise.”
Everything quickly devolves into chaos from then and before Agatha knows it, she’s being ushered upstairs and into bed with the promise of presents the following morning. She groans as she is lumped in with her younger siblings but her Mummy threatens to take away one of her presents if she doesn’t go to bed. Agatha loves gifts even if she doesn’t believe in Santa anymore, so she listens, but she’s too excited to sleep.
She doesn’t know what time it is when she hears giggles coming from the living room. She knows better than to sneak out of her room after bedtime, but a part of her wants to prove that Santa is real - even if Edmund won’t believe her.
If her parents catch her out of bed past bedtime, she will be in lots of trouble but maybe if she explains why, they’ll let her off the hook - but she doesn’t want to find out. She tiptoes to the cracked door of her bedroom, peering into the hallway before carefully stepping out into the dark hallway.
Agatha takes each step as slowly as she can, trying her best not to make a sound. She knows that certain parts of the hall and steps creek and groan under any weight - the downfalls of living in an old house. She takes the stairs at the end of the hall one at a time, the opposite of how she usually goes racing down them.
She slows to a stop when she can see the full living room come into view, crouching down to peer through the railing. There are only two sources of light in the room - the far lamp on the end table next to the couch and the bright white lights of the Christmas tree. In front of the tree is a pile of presents, one of them a box large enough to be a dream house, but that’s not what steals all of her attention. No, what does is where her mother is standing next to the presents, kissing what appears to be Santa Claus.
Her little hand flies to cover her mouth. She’s never seen her mum kiss anyone but her dad and the sight of it makes her tummy hurt. It seems wrong to see the way her mum giggles as she pulls away from Santa, the way her cheeks flush a deep shade of red that Agatha has only ever witnessed when it came to her father.
“Santa,” her mother says through a giggle as he hides his face into her neck. “We’re going to wake up the kids.”
Santa must say something into her ear that makes her laugh again but Agatha refuses to stick around any longer. She darts back upstairs, not caring if she makes any sound. The old wooden floors of the stairs groan, even under her small weight, and she hears a gasp come from the direction she just fled but she doesn’t stop, choosing instead to fling herself into her bed, pulling her stuffed bunny to her chest and letting out a loud sob.
She thought that her Mummy loved her Daddy so much so that she and her siblings would groan everytime they kissed, hiding their faces into their hands, utterly disgusted by the display of affection. Oh what she would give to see one of their gross moments right now instead of having the vision of her mum kissing someone else - even if that someone else is Santa.
Agatha doesn’t even care that Edmund was wrong and that Santa is real, she’s too heartbroken.
There’s a soft knock on the door she had slammed shut before it quietly creeks open.
“Aggie?”
Her mother’s voice is soft and soothing, in a way that doesn’t match her previous behavior.
“Go away,” Agatha grumbles into her pillow, refusing to look at her mother. Her lack of movement doesn’t do much to dissuade her mum, the bed dipping as she sits on the edge of it, her hand coming to rest on her lower back.
“Agatha Violet.”
It’s a rarity that her parents use her full name or take such a stern tone of voice when speaking to any of their children so she sits up, pulling her knees to her chest, her bunny still in her clutches. She still refuses to look at her mum, the image of her kissing Santa burning in her brain.
“What you saw - it’s not what you think.”
Agatha rolls her eyes, finally meeting her mother’s gaze. Even though she seems upset with her, there’s still a softness and layer of understanding etched on her features. Just the sight of her reminds Agatha that this is still her mum, the same mum who sings her lullabies and reads her stories and takes her on adventures - the same mum who loves her unconditionally.
“I thought you loved Daddy,” she mumbles, a fresh wave of tears starting to stream down her cheeks.
“Oh my baby,” she whispers, a hand coming up cup her cheek, her thumb rubbing the track of tears away. “The only people I love more in this world than your father are you and your siblings.”
“Then why?” she gasps as a sob escapes her.
Before her mum can reply, there’s another knock on the door and it pushes open again, a head popping into the dark room. “Did we get everything sorted in here?”
Agatha looks towards her door, her eyes blinking in confusion. It’s Santa’s head in her doorway, red hat and white beard, but it’s her father’s voice and it makes her eyebrows burrow in confusion.
“Daddy?” she questions, her tears no longer falling down her cheeks.
Santa lets out a soft chuckle as he fully steps into the room before taking his hat and beard off to reveal that it is her father in a costume.
“Sorry to ruin your Christmas baby girl,” he states as he takes a spot next to her mum on her bed.
“Daddy, I already know Santa isn’t real,” she reminds him, her demeanor completely changing now that she knows her family isn’t falling apart.
Her dad chuckles, leaning over to press a kiss to the top of her head. “I hope you’re not upset with your mum still.”
Her head shakes and she crawls over to sit between her parents, her arms wrapping around her mum’s neck in a hug. “I’m sorry, Mummy. I shouldn’t have gotten upset with you.”
Her mum presses a kiss to the top of her head, nearly in the same spot her father had just kissed, as she pulls Agatha onto her lap. “It’s okay, Aggie. You didn’t know any better.”
“But don’t make it a habit,” her dad pipes up.
Agatha shakes her head as she turns to look at her father. “Never.”
“Good. Now that we have everything all sorted, I think it’s time for some little girl to go to bed. She might not believe in Santa anymore, but she has two younger siblings that do and who will wake her up very early in the morning for presents.”
She mutters her disapproval under her breath but climbs off of her mum and slips under her covers, her bunny still tucked underneath her arm. Both of her parents stand up and bid her goodnight before slipping out of the door. It doesn’t take long for her to fall asleep, her mind already racing with the new stories she’s going to come up with with her new Barbies.
Agatha wakes up the next morning to her little sister jumping on her bed, screams of Santa came, Santa came! Aggie come on! It’s time for presents!
She wraps her arms around Jane’s legs, pulling her down onto the mattress. “You’re gonna hurt yourself Janie.”
Before her sister can say anything else, Agatha’s door flies open, her brother standing in the doorway in his pajamas.
“Presents!” The five year old screams as their parents appear behind him.
“Thomas, when I told you to get your sisters, I didn’t mean for you to scream at them.”
“But Mummy!” He protests, turning around to look up at her. “Santa came!”
Jane climbs off the bed, her little hand tugging on Agatha’s in an effort to get her out of bed. “Come on, sissy! It’s time for presents!”
Agatha lets her sister drag her out of bed and follows her lead down to the living room where there are presents spilling out from under the tree, nearly covering the entire room with gifts.
It doesn’t take long for the beautiful living room to turn into a mess of wrapping paper and boxes, all three of the Bridgerton children declaring that each of their new toys must be played with immediately.
The last gift that Agatha unwraps is her Barbie dreamhouse, a gasp falling from her lips as she realizes what it is.
“Mummy! Daddy!” she exclaims, her blue eyes wide as she turns to look at her parents. “Santa brought me my dream house!”
Her mom leans into her dad from where she’s sitting on the arm of the chair he’s in, a wide smile on her face.
“That’s so cool!” Her dad replies, the same smile on his face.
As it turns out, Agatha Bridgerton doesn’t need to believe in Santa Claus to have a magical Christmas, all she needs is her family intact.
The news that she will be getting another sibling in the new year makes it the best Christmas ever.
Well that and her Barbie dreamhouse.