Chapter Text
Snow fell in lazy, spiraling flakes around the Black Bulls’ Hideout, blanketing the forest in white and softening the sharp edges of the world. Even the usually rickety structure of the base looked almost gentle beneath its coat of snow, icicles clinging to the eaves like crystal fangs. Warm light spilled from every window, golden and inviting, laughter leaking into the cold air in bursts.
Inside, chaos reigned—as it always did—but tonight it was a festive chaos.
A massive pine tree stood crookedly in the center of the main room, its top nearly scraping the ceiling beams. It leaned slightly to the left, and its branches were weighed down with mismatched ornaments, strands of tinsel, hand-carved charms, and several objects that were absolutely not meant to be decorations.
One of Yami's cigarette cases hung from a branch.
No one touched it.
Gauche hung a framed photograph of Marie front and center on the tree “Marie would like this,” he muttered. “She'd say the lights are pretty.”
Grey hovered behind him, nervously fidgeting with her sleeves. “I-I think it looks really nice too,” she said softly.
Charmy stood on a table beside it, flour smeared across her cheek, happily humming as sheep made of cottony mana floated around her, each one carefully holding a tray of cookies.
“Okay, okay!” Charmy said cheerfully, clapping her hands. “These ones are sugar cookies, these are gingerbread with loads of cinnamon, these are honey butter, these are chocolate-filled, these are chocolate-filled but with more chocolate, and these—” she pointed proudly “—are for me!”
A sheep bleated happily and shoved a cookie into her mouth.
Magna leaned against a pillar nearby, arms crossed, watching Luck press the final chunk of snow onto the head of a snowman just outside the open doors of the base.
“That thing's gonna fall over,” Magna muttered.
Luck grinned, lightning sparks crackling faintly around him. “Only if it's weak! And if it is, then it deserves to fall!”
The snowman immediately toppled sideways.
“Aww man,” Luck frowned as Magna snickered. Then, he smirked and leaned down, gathering a handful of snow and forming a snowball, which he quickly fired in Magna's direction and laughed as snow splattered all over his friend's face.
“Oh that's it!” Magna growled as he raced after Luck, the two of them laughing in the snow as they engaged in an impromptu snowball fight just outside the open doors of the base.
Meanwhile, inside near the hearth, Vanessa lounged in a chair with her fluffy magenta boots propped up on the armrest, a mug of spiked eggnog in hand, and Rogue curled up in her lap fast asleep. An amused, fond smile rested on her lips as she watched the room.
“Yami actually letting us decorate so much for the holiday,” she said lazily, eyes half-lidded from the amount of eggnog she'd consumed already. “Must be a sign of the apocalypse.”
Yami himself sat at the table, reading the newspaper, utterly unconcerned with the festive chaos going on around him. Beside him at the table sat Nacht, the devils on his shoulders crunching loudly on some candy canes, which didn't seem to bother Nacht much as he quietly read his novel with his legs crossed.
Asta laughed from the other side of the room, stringing garland around a bannister while Noelle stood on a chair, arms crossed, barking instructions.
“No, Asta! Higher! It needs to be even!”
“It is even!”
“It is absolutely not!”
“It looks even from down here!”
“That's because you're short!”
“Hey!”
Gordon lingered near the wall, whispering softly as he tied small charm-like decorations along the beams.
Nearby, Henry hovered uncertainly near the wall, his magic unconsciously draining the warmth from the room in small pulses. He held a single ornament in his hands, turning it over and over.
“I… um,” he said quietly, barely audible, “does the tree… need help?”
Noelle smiled at him. “It can always use more decorations. You can put that one anywhere, Henry!”
The room was warm. Loud. Alive.
And at the far edge of it all, half-shadowed near the staircase, Sideris stood apart.
He leaned against the wall, arms folded tightly across his chest, mask in place as always. Black fabric, dark and expressionless, catching the firelight. His cloak hung heavy on his shoulders, steel magic faintly humming beneath his skin like a restrained heartbeat.
He watched them silently.
Laughed at none of it.
Charmy noticed him eventually.
“Sideris!” she called brightly. “Come try a cookie! I made a special batch of gingerbread with extra cinnamon!”
“No,” he said flatly.
Charmy blinked. “You didn't even try one yet.”
“I don't need to.”
“Oi,” Zora said suddenly, tilting his head toward Sideris. “You've been lurking there all day. Are you planning to turn into a gargoyle, or are you gonna join us?”
“I am joining you,” he replied coldly. “By standing here and not interfering.”
Zora scoffed. “Figures.”
“Do you want to help decorate the tree?” Henry asked Sideris slowly.
“No.”
“Hang ornaments?” Asta tried.
“No.”
Vanessa raised her spiked eggnog. “Drink?”
He glanced at her. “No.”
Asta deflated slightly. “But… it's Christmas,” he said gently, as if that should explain everything.
Sideris let out a short, humorless laugh. “Is it? Didn't seem to notice.”
“C’mon, Sideris! You don't have to be all… you know—” Asta waved his hands vaguely “—like that.”
Sideris’ fingers twitched. “Like what?” he asked.
Asta hesitated. “Uh… grumpy?”
The room quieted just a little.
Sideris laughed. It was short. Bitter. Humorless. “Ah,” he said. “Forgive me. I forgot it's the season where everyone pretends their lives are perfect.”
Noelle stiffened instantly. “What is that supposed to mean?” she snapped, hopping down from the chair she was standing on. “You've been acting unbearable all evening!”
“Only this evening?” Sideris tilted his head slightly. “I'm improving.”
“That's not funny!”
“I wasn't joking.”
Vanessa sighed softly, setting her mug down. “Hey,” she said, tone gentler now. “You don't have to like Christmas, Sideris. But you don't have to spit on it either.”
Sideris turned his masked face toward her. “I'm not spitting on anything,” he said quietly. “I just don't see the point.”
“The point,” Noelle shot back, “is spending time with people who care about you!”
Something sharp cracked in the air.
Sideris stepped forward before he could stop himself. “People who care?” he repeated. “That's rich coming from a Silva.”
The word landed like a blade.
Noelle froze. “…What did you say?”
Vanessa straightened slightly. Yami lowered his paper.
Sideris realized too late.
But the damage was already done.
“I said,” he continued, voice low, steel humming beneath it, “that I don't take lectures on family from royalty.”
Noelle's face flushed. “You don't know anything about my family!”
“I know enough,” he snapped. “Enough to know that when people disappear or are even slightly different, Silvas don't go looking. They throw them away like trash.”
The room was dead silent now.
Grey had gasped softly and hid behind Gauche, who turned sharply to watch.
Henry stiffened, his eyes growing sad as he watched his friends argue.
Gordon stopped whispering, hand lowering from the tree where he was fixing to hang another ornament that he had made himself.
Nacht and Yami had both stopped reading, and even Nacht's devils had stopped crunching on their candy canes.
Asta looked between them anxiously. “Uh… guys…?”
Noelle's hands shook at her sides. You could almost see the steam coming from her ears. “You take that back.”
“Why?” Sideris asked. “So you can pretend it never happened? That's what Silvas are good at, aren't they?”
That did it.
“Get out,” Noelle said, voice trembling. Her lilac eyes glistened. “If you hate Christmas so much, if you hate us so much, then just leave!”
“Noelle—” Vanessa tried, her voice gentle.
Sideris laughed again, harsher this time. “Gladly.”
He turned and stormed up the stairs, footsteps ringing against the wood. The warmth of the room faded behind him, laughter replaced with awkward silence.
Vanessa watched him go, unease curling in her chest.
“…That man,” she murmured.
Sideris shut his door with a sharp click and leaned against it, breath coming heavier than he wanted to admit. He ripped his mask from his face and hurled it onto the bed.
Amber eyes stared back at him from the mirror across the room—eyes that didn't belong. Eyes that ruined everything.
The rest of him was hers.
The hair. The face. The magic.
Acier Silva stared back at him every time he looked.
“Pathetic,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face.
He sat heavily on the bed, staring at the floor.
Christmas.
Family.
Love.
Lies.
He lay back, exhaustion finally pulling him under.
The room grew cold. Not from the snow. But something deeper.
Then, a presence.
“Sideris Silva.”
His eyes snapped open.
A figure stood at the foot of his bed, draped in tattered robes, face obscured by shadow, chains faintly clinking with every movement.
“Who—” Sideris bolted upright, mana flaring instinctively. “Who the hell are you?”
The figure inclined its head.
“I am but a messenger,” it rasped. “And I come bearing warning.”
Sideris’ jaw tightened. “Get out.”
“You will be visited,” the spirit continued, unbothered, “by three spirits.” The chains rattled. “One of what was. One of what is. And one of what may yet be.”
Sideris swallowed hard. “I don't believe in ghosts,” he said.
The spirit leaned closer. “You will.”
And with that, it vanished—leaving only frost creeping across the floorboards.
Sideris sat in the silence, heart pounding.
For the first time in years…
He did not feel alone.
And that frightened him more than anything.