It was a happy time. Yuletide was the one season of the year when people of all backgrounds would come together in harmony across the empire and celebrate the joy of life, spreading goodwill and peace to their fellow man. 

At least, that's how it should have been. It was how the first emperor had intended it when he hosted the original Yuletide banquet. But in recent years, what had once been an honorable feast to which all were invited had become a platform for the rich elite to sing each other's praises whilst leaving those in need to starve in the freezing cold of winter. Emperor Tacitus in particular scorned his ancestor’s concept of charity and love for all mankind. 

However, at the Baltimore estate, the old traditions were very much alive. Across the grounds, decorations were hung in preparation for the coming feast. Holly, ivy, and mistletoe were hung over every doorway, and the foresters were coming down from the mountain with massive yule logs in tow, spreading holiday cheer throughout the manor. 

***

“Daddy? Will Mommy be home for Starnight?” I twined anxiously. Three months had passed since her sudden vacation, and already my six year old self missed her deeply. Daddy lifted me into the air and bounced me on his knee, and I giggled aloud, smiling brightly at him, but his unusually stoic face was deliberately calm. 

“...I don't know,” he confessed at last, “I haven't heard from her recently.” His voice held a twinge of something. Sorrow, perhaps? But I paid it no mind. Grownups have a lot to worry about, after all. 

Anyway, Daddy would tell me if I needed to know. He was always honest with me. That was one of the many things I loved about my Daddy. He was kind, and brave, and dashing, and he loved Mommy more than anything! It wasn't a stretch to say that he was the perfect father. At least to me. 

“But she loves Starnight!” I complained, “there's no way we can celebrate without her! It just won't be the same…” My cheeks puffed outward in a defiant pout. Daddy poked my face, deflating them with one strike. 

“I know, Angie,” he said quietly, “and I'm certain Mommy feels the same way. But sometimes we have to be strong, even if it hurts.” A tear rolled down his cheek, and I stared at it, mesmerized. “Can you be strong?” he whispered, “for me? For Mommy?” 

In that moment, I realized I wasn't the only one who missed Mommy. Daddy, too, felt a profound sense of grief at the thought of celebrating without her. It was clear to me that his love for her went beyond a typical marriage. I could only hope that I would find a love as pure and bright as his when I grew up. 

“How did you and Mommy meet?” I blurted, then immediately clapped my hands over my mouth, embarrassed at my sudden outburst. 

Daddy's eyes twinkled. A faint smile danced on his lips as he recalled their very first meeting. 

*** 

Samuel stared at the apple vendor incredulously. He knew the recent tax increase had inflated markets across the country, but he never expected the impact to be so astronomical. 

“You charge… how much?!” he asked again. 

“Six hundred scruples. And not a penny less!” the seller replied adamantly, “if you don't like it, you're free to try the peasant market. Though I doubt you'll find anything edible.” 

Baltimore scowled. He'd always hated the rift that separated commoners from the self-proclaimed “nobility”, and it was people like this that fueled his hatred even further. 

“There's nothing edible here, either,” he retorted, “so I might just take your advice.” 

“Do as you please,” the apple merchant sneered back, “I only have time for paying customers.” 

Samuel rolled his eyes and turned away abruptly, but then stopped in his tracks when noticed the customer who was standing beside him, inspecting the fruit seller's merchandise. She wore a large, fluffy coat and woolen trousers. A few golden strands of hair peeked out from beneath a finely knitted cap, and a voluptuous scarf hid her nose and mouth from view. It seemed like she was trying to be discreet, and perhaps disguise herself as a boy, but she was undeniably a woman. 

She caught him staring and he quickly looked away, but couldn't hide the soft blush that crept across his face. Her sapphire eyes peered at him from behind undersized spectacles, and Samuel felt his confidence slipping. 

“What are you looking at?” she demanded. 

“You,” he confessed, staring at the ground sheepishly. 

The girl grumbled something under her breath then turned her attention back to the merchandise. Samuel watched as she began to haggle with the merchant, proposing a bulk purchase at a significant discount. After a heated discussion, the seller relented, and the mysterious girl came away with six large canvas sacks filled with apples. 

“You're still here…?” she asked curiously. 

Samuel felt his cheeks heating up again. I must be coming down with a cold, he thought. “I-I…” he began, but the words wouldn't come out. 

She stared at him indifferently, then, without so much as a word of please, shoved four of the heavy bags into his arms. “Come with me,” she demanded, and Samuel happily obliged. 

It was market day in Opulus; midwinter by the calendar, and the weather mages were hard at work maintaining the light dusting of snow that drifted down from the barrier encircling the city. Their boots crunched softly through the thin, icy snow as the two of them strolled down the street, heading away from the noble’s quarter. The girl walked surprisingly fast. Samuel struggled to keep up with her as they wandered the winding streets. 

“Hey! Wait up!” the young knight huffed. 

She turned back to him and waited patiently, a faint smile gracing her small lips. “If you don't hurry, I might end up leaving you behind,” she teased. 

Samuel raised his eyebrows incredulously. He seemed about to speak, but then changed his mind with a soft chuckle. The girl turned on her heels and strutted down the road, stealing an occasional glance at the boy who was following her so obediently. 

Lovestruck, no doubt, she thought to herself, just like last time. 

*** 

“What happened next, Daddy?!” I gazed at him with bright, hopeful eyes, eager to hear more about the two people I loved most in the world. 

Suddenly, Daddy threw his arms around me and hugged me tight. My chin rested on his broad shoulder, and I felt the beating of his massive heart. His whole body shook. It took me a moment to realize that my daddy, the strongest person alive, was crying. It wasn't just one tear, either. It was a whole boatload. It seemed like an overreaction for a simple vacation… 

“Daddy? Is Mommy coming back?” I asked reluctantly. 

He suddenly stiffened. “O-Of course she is!” he stammered, “when have I ever lied to you? Just trust me, my darling Angelina.” 

His shoulders slowly relaxed as he stroked my hair. I placed my arms around his neck and kissed him lightly on his rough cheek. “I love you, Daddy,” I whispered sweetly, and he held me all the closer. 

*** 

The morning sun burst spectacularly over the snow capped mountains, bathing the pristine valley a sparkling scarlet. Daddy and I watched the sunrise from the second floor balcony, just outside of the drawing room. 

“Mommy loves watching the sunrise every day,” I said smilingly, “do you think she's seeing this one, too?” 

Daddy squeezed my hand gently, as if reassuring me he was there. “I'm certain of that,” he murmured, “wherever she is…” 

Then, Daddy doesn't know where Mommy went?! The cold hand of fear clutched my heart. Even at six years old, I was capable of making this realization, and it planted a tiny seed of doubt within me. A seed that would grow exponentially with the passage of time. 

A tense silence passed between us, and I suddenly felt very uncomfortable standing there on the balcony, alone with Daddy. I retreated awkwardly, making my way back to the drawing room. 

“Where are you going?” he asked gently. 

I looked down sheepishly, avoiding his tender gaze. “I was just… going to play in the snow!” I replied quickly, beaming. “Bye, Daddy!” I dashed out of the room and down the stairs, bumping into Charlotte as I ran. Daddy watched me go and then turned his attention to the winter gardens below the balcony. He stared at the snowbell flowers, how they bloomed scarlet in the stark, bleak winter. His eyes twinkled with longing and regret. 

“My love,” he whispered in anguish, “whatever will I do without you?” 

*** 

Charlotte and I plodded through the fresh snow. Well, she plodded. I pranced. Even though it was cold for almost half the year, I couldn't help it; there was just something magical about Yuletide snow. 

My kind-hearted maid followed me down the garden path, watching joyfully as I twirled across the glistening powder. With a gleeful shout, I jumped into a nearby snowbank, sending a shower of snow into Charlotte's amused face. 

“Play with me, Charlotte!” I giggled. 

She crouched down and dusted off my coat, warming my hands with hers. “I'm afraid I can't, my lady,” she replied regretfully, “my old bones won't be able to keep up.” 

“But you're barely even twenty!” I protested. It was absolutely absurd for anyone to call her old. “And besides! You're prettier than everyone! Except Mommy, of course.” 

Charlotte blushed to hear it. “Oh my!” she gushed ecstatically, “to receive such praise from my lady! My heart can't take it!” 

“Stop overreacting and just play with me!” I protested. I gave her my best pouting face, but my fiercely loyal maid couldn't be swayed. 

“Ms. Allison has a son a little bit younger than you!” Charlotte suggested, “would you like to go play with him?” 

My face lit up like a candle. “Yes, please!” I squealed, throwing my arms around my favorite maid. “I love you, Charlotte!” 

She swept me up and carried me out of the garden, and it wasn't long before we came across a lovely couple and their four year old son. The maid set me down and I scampered toward them, delighted to be playing with someone my own age. The little boy abandoned his miniature snowmen and ice castle to hide behind his mother's skirts, glaring at me from around her leg. 

“Pericles!” his mother scolded, “greet our lady properly!” Then she turned to me and curtsied deeply. “I'm so sorry, my lady!” she said nervously, “it shan't happen again.” 

“It's no problem, Miss Allison,” I replied, “he's only four after all; it would be stranger if he had perfect manners.” 

Miss Allison chuckled. She smiled warmly at me, and suddenly I felt a squishiness inside. My heart turned to mush, and I couldn't help but smile back at this lovely woman. She reminded me of Mommy. 

“Thank you for understanding, Lady Angelina,” she replied, “may the grace of the goddess bring you protection.” 

Charlotte stared at her with wide eyes. Her jaw hung slack, then slammed shut as she regained her composure. “Oh, my…” she stammered. 

I glared at her suspiciously, but could not deduce what had stunned her so. I turned back to the house's head maid and bowed slightly in gratitude. “Thank you, Miss Allison,” I said sweetly, “may the goddess keep you as well.” 

“If I may ask, what brings your ladyship here?” The man who asked was tall and lanky, with frazzled, shaggy hair that twisted and curled every which way. He peered at me through large round glasses which sat loose upon his freckled face. 

“I wanna play in the snow!” I exclaimed happily, “but it's no fun playing by myself…” 

“Lady Angelina would like to play with Pericles,” Charlotte explained. 

“Of course!” Miss Allison replied, “he would be delighted! Wouldn't you, Pericles?” 

The little boy peeked around his mother's skirts and hissed at me with an expression so repugnant I couldn't help but look away. I turned back to Charlotte with a pleading expression, and I could tell she was trying to stifle a giggle. 

“It's not funny!” I declared haughtily, “don't you dare laugh at me!” 

Charlotte quickly regained her composure. “Of course not, my lady; I wouldn't dream of it!” But the corner of her mouth still twitched upward with just the barest hint of a smile. 

Eclesia crouched next to her son and looked him straight in the eyes. He glared back, stoic and determined. “What have I told you about being kind to others?” she chided. 

Pericles looked down at the ground and scuffed the frozen dirt, kicking up snow rebelliously. “To always do it,” he mumbled. 

“And were you being kind to Lady Angelina?” 

“But I don't wanto!” the little boy protested, “I pway awl by myself!” 

“Pericles Mancer Allison!” Eclesia declared, “you go to Lady Angelina and apologize right this instant! It is rude and improper to hiss at people!” 

Pericles hung his head and trudged through the snow. He stopped in front of me and mumbled an apology. “Sorwy. Do you wanna pway wiff me?” 

“Of course!” I exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. I stepped forward to take his hand, and almost immediately, tears came to his eyes. 

“What's wrong, Pericles?” his mother asked. He pointed an accusing finger at the snow beneath my feet. 

“She killed Tom!” 

The rest of us laughed while Pericles’ face turned bright red. I lifted my foot to see two tiny twigs that were likely once arms protruding from a circular mound with a firm boot print in the center; I had stepped on one of his snowmen. 

“Stop waughing at me! Go away!” And with that, he stormed off into the woods before anyone could react. 

“Wait!” I chased after him, desperate to apologize, but the boy was much faster than he seemed, and pretty soon I found myself alone in the forest. Charlotte probably wasn't far behind me, but the twists and turns through the ancient trees formed a complicated maze through the fresh powder. 

I walked cautiously through the forest until I reached a clearing. The first thing I noticed when I exited the treeline was a large cliff that dropped almost straight down from a precarious overhang. The wind blew fiercely across the ledge, as if all the gusts in the valley were being tunneled and channeled right down the middle. 

The sky had turned a dismal gray, and great, fat flakes of snow whipped around in my face like grains in a sandstorm. For the longest time, I stared at that cliff. I'd seen nothing like it in many months. In a trance, I approached it cautiously, my heart quickening as I beheld the single flower growing out of the overhang. 

There, sitting on the edge of the cliff, was a sapphire snowbell.