Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas Soloish Finished

AngelFyre was absolutely correct that he needed to be more cautious than ever - but to also appear as though everything was all the same. If anything, he needed to attempt to get his father back somehow on better terms and not have him be suspicious of him. He wasn't sure how he was going to achieve that - yet, but he had time to think on that.

And she was also correct about how he needed to be sensitive when bringing anything up to Clara. He didn't want to upset his friend but still, she might be the only one who could provide him with some of the information he needed to help confirm or deny this new outlandish theory.

Feeling better now that they had been able to speak, he drew out a slow breath before standing. There was a lot to think about and he'd do so later but he wanted to get to Clara still with enough time to celebrate Christmas with her and be back by evening. He let his endurance build up as he made his way back to the village.

He slipped in unnoticed into her home and was disappointed to see she wasn't there, but at least this gave him time to get out her Christmas gift set up. He placed his enchanted satchel down and opened it wide so he could pull out the massive wooden box, glad for his dhampir strength. It was large and could hold all her blankets and things that meant most to her.

"Mans eņģelis?” [*My angel?] Simon?” he heard her speak before hearing her enter and he turned quickly to see his friend. "Clara!" he smiled and came over to give her a hug. "Happy Christmas! I know I'm a little late but I thought we could celebrate."

He stepped aside so she could see the decorative chest and her eyes quickly fell on it. "For me?" she asked as she stepped closer to it, evaluating it closely, before leaning down to open it. She seemed quite happy with it from the smile on her face. "For you," he replied.

She ran up and thanked him again with a hug and then pulled back quickly. "I have one for you!" she said and turned. She went to her sewing area of her space and returned with a folded cream colored sweater with the slightest bit of rolled element toward the neck and sleeves. It was more than nicely made. It was perfect. Simon went ahead and moved off his jacket and then took off his sweatshirt, placing that in his satchel before slipping it on. It fit just right as if he was who it was always intended to be worn by - and he assumed it most likely was as she must have made it. "Thank you," he said to her sincerely. "Thank you," she said the same.

She went back to her chest to look at it, admiring it once more and then noticed the bag inside. Curious, she drew the bag from the inside of the chest and slowly opened it. "It's all that we need to decorate an outdoor Christmas tree. I thought we could put things on there that the wildlife would appreciate."

He came to her and pulled out first a bag of already popped popcorn, some string, and some needles. They could first start by stringing the popcorn and the dried cranberries to make some garland. That part could be done in the warmth of her very own home with the fire that was going strong in the fireplace. That's how Simon knew she had been there recently, and how he knew she was going return soon. She wouldn't have left it going otherwise.

"You are absolutely brilliant, Simon," she said to him and took the bag over to the table and he followed her. Her grasp on his language was better every time he was there. Over the summer he had taught her to read and left books with her, many books. They seemed to be helping. "Perhaps," he said and shrugged, not really knowing how to respond to that one. "How was your Christmas?" Did they celebrate Christmas? She seemed to have some concept of it and he knew she was a Christian. That, and she had made a gift for him so most likely she understood.

She nodded, placing the string through the needle in one try so effortlessly. Simon knew she was a seamstress or something like that, but it was still impressive. He was already on his fifth. "It has been a quiet Christmas," she said. "The whole village had church with leader. And I've lots of quiet prayer and reflection."

Oh what he wouldn't give to dive into it. Did he? Should he? He tried his seventh time, frustration starting to show itself as the string just wouldn't go through that teeny tiny hole.

"What is your leader like?" he couldn't resist. Simon glanced up to Clara, hoping it wasn't overstepping but she appeared calm and brought her hand out to him, offering to take the needle and string to set it up for him. She took it and again, effortlessly on the first try was able to succeed.

"We have several leaders. They are our connection to God. One is highest leader. You - " she paused, almost as if she wasn't sure she should say it, but she continued. "You remind me some of him." That made Simon feel somewhat sick, that swirling in his stomach. She totally meant his father and he wanted no comparison to such an individual - especially not with all recent discoveries being made.

"Here," she said as she took her now empty hand and brushed it a bit over the top of his hair. Simon watched her. "And here," she said again, this time just tapping her fingertips lightly on his chin, indicating his jawline.

Simon watched her a moment and then looked down, clearing his throat softly. "The leaders are your connection to God?" he asked, using her words and hoping he might get some more clarification on the subject. Her string already had an abundance of popcorn strung upon it with a cranberry to break it up now and again.

"Yes. They hold much knowledge and they hold a greater connection." ...And used such projected influence to brainwash a group of people if his theory was correct.

"What is this?" she asked him, finally holding up a piece of popcorn. Simon didn't really think about how the popular snack had made its way to Europe from the Americas. "Popcorn," Simon replied. "It's light and crunchy. Try it."

She held one up to examine it before deciding to go for it and popped the popped kernel into her mouth. She laughed as she chewed it. "Tastes like nothing, feels like air." Simon laughed too and knew it tasted better with butter and salt but he didn't think the animals needed any butter and salt. "Rosceline would have loved this."

Was she really getting such a good hold of his language that she had used the past tense of the word correctly? Did he elaborate on it? Now was his segue in and he might not get another opportunity.

"You.... - sound like you miss her a lot," he reached, hoping that it was the correct assumption or he would just confuse her. Confusion was common amongst them due to their language barrier.

She looked to him, her blue eyes sad. "I do," she answered. "She would have enjoyed this. I am enjoying this. Thank you for being here with me. It gets lonely." Simon nodded, not evening beginning to imagine. He had Aunt Maggie and Uncle Mark, Rascal, Porter, Percy, all of his muggle friends back in London, all his friends back at Hogwarts, and especially AngelFyre. To be alone like she was gave him a sense of emptiness. If only somehow he could bring her with him into the reality of the world but it would most likely be too much for her.

"Will someday you be gone? You appeared sudden, will you leave as quickly?" Appeared. Is that what she thought? Appeared from where? "Where is home for you, Simon?" she asked him. Oh boy, this was going to get complicated quite fast. How did he explain London to her, the third largest city in Europe? "Heaven? Have you met my Rosceline? My sister? My parents?"

Heaven?

Wow, this did get complicated fast. "Mans eņģelis?” [*My angel?] It means......what it sounds like it means?" It always had reminded him of a city in The States called Los Angeles. Los Angeles was Spanish for 'the angels.' "Angel?"

"Yes, you're my angel, are you not? So I won't be so lonely. So I won't feel so lost."

30-31 December 2024.

When all the popcorn and cranberries had been strung, fruit was arranged just so, and a star had been hitched together with rope and sticks, they made their way out into the woods to find the perfect tree in which to decorate. Simon was grateful for getting to spend some of his Christmastime with his friend.

He had prolonged it. In part, it was due to the fact that he didn't get to see her as much as he'd like and they had no way of communicating outside of the village. With his muggle friends back in London or Aunt Maggie, he could write a letter and receive one in return but Clara wasn't part of a reality in which that could happen. Maybe someday, somehow, she and the village could gain liberation but right now Simon didn't know how to do that without creating a lot of confusion for his friend; confusion for something that could be beyond comprehension and lead to panic. He also wasn't sure what sort of danger it would bring to them or to himself. It didn't seem like Adrian Hawthorne would be too keen on losing such a big part of his empire that he had built. This was something big, something you devoted more than a few moments of thought toward.

His father was the other reason he extended his time with Clara. His visit to the castle was coming to an end and he needed to somehow approach his father about the whole 'Ritual' situation and have it die down somehow so he could lay low with it while he processed his thoughts on the matter. He was most likely on his father's radar and having the attention of Adrian Hawthorne wasn't good by any means. How did he yield his father’s suspicions elsewhere? Was it possible to trick such an intelligent and brilliant mind, especially when lies weren't a factor. Simon wasn't made for lying, nor was he any good at it, and he couldn't do so anyway with good conscience. No, there had to be another way.

But as he made his way back to the castle, he hadn't found another way. He'd do his best to seem amicable with the others and hope that all mentions of it would blow over until a later visit when he'd have more time to think of a plan of action. He didn't have long thankfully. He'd be leaving the next morning to return to London. All he had to do was get through this evening.

Simon made it back to the castle well before nightfall.

What he didn’t know yet was that he wouldn’t need to approach his father about ‘The Ritual.’ What he didn’t know, and never would, was that Adrian Hawthorne had taken control of the situation as he always took control of a situation and talked with Vanessa who had been with Simon that particular night about what happened. She had shielded Simon from knowing what was going on around him because Adrian hadn’t told Simon about it, nor second-in-charge, Gideon.

Simon got back to the castle and went upstairs to his room, setting his bag down and changed out of his warmer attire. The castle itself was never very warm but he didn’t figure vampires needed it to be so, but it still wasn’t cold enough to warrant his outside winter attire.

He arrived down on the main level as the coven was gathering for their ‘meal.’ Adrian and Gideon were in discussion over something to do with the London Stock Exchange as he took his seat. “Simon departs from us tomorrow’s morning,” Adrian told the others once that small conversation had died down when the others had all joined. Simon’s eyes moved to Lilith, waiting for her to say something under her breath like ‘finally’ or ‘about time’ but she oddly behaved herself. Their meal time was rather uneventful but that was good, as it seemed there were no red flags from his departure that day - or reeling revelation of their reality. Simon drank slowly from his cup and did his best to ignore that he was in a room filled with manipulators and destroyers of lives. Just the usual for them, apparently. Simon wondered how long it had gone on.


Anders came to clear the table, placing the empty goblets on a tray. “I’ll see you off tomorrow morning, bright and early, Master Simon,” he said. Simon hadn’t really thought about when he was leaving to catch the train at the station and it would be after the vampires had settled after their long night and wouldn’t be his father taken him since it was after sunrise. Maybe he could ask Anders a few questions that had been on his mind.

“I’ll be ready,” he said to him and smiled appreciatively. Oh, he was more ready than ever to depart from these castle walls. “As are we,” Lilith quickly got in with a smirk and then placed down her napkin and swiftly left the room. Simon watched her and as his gaze fell back to the table, he looked at Vanessa. Why was she shielding him from this? Had she just been Adrian’s pawn in this all along, trying to gain his friendship? His trust? Was she nothing more than a spy and an accomplice in all the horror?

“Samael, you wanted to show me that new project of yours, did you not?” Gideon said as he stood. The others had a good way of keeping tabs on Samael and keeping him occupied so he didn’t try to go plan a hunt. Simon knew Gideon’s tactic and was pretty sure the other vampires knew as well - with the exception of Samael himself who seemed appreciative that someone had shown an interest in his latest work.

“I’m headed to my room as well,” Vanessa said, looking over to Adrian before getting up. Simon saw the glance and this was what he was dreading. Perhaps they weren’t leaving to depart for the moment to do their various recreational activities but leaving so that his father could be alone with him. He wasn’t ready to be alone with him.

Adrian knew. His father knew that he was asking questions about The Ritual and Simon had yet to come up with a plan on what to say, on how to approach this. He was entering dangerous territory here. There was absolutely no way he could even attempt to lie and try to deceive his father that he thought any of this was okay. He wouldn’t.

The only thing he could do was ride it out.

“Simon, join me in my office,” Adrian directed. It was an order. There was no ‘I would like you to join me in my office’ as if Simon had a say in the manner and there was no ‘please’ to make it an invitation in which he could refuse. It was absolutely an order.

Together they walked through the quiet corridors. Simon could navigate his way around the castle easily now and not only knew which room they were going to but knew the path they would take to get there.

It wasn’t until they were in his father’s office and the door was closed that Adrian would speak again.

“You are wanting information about The Ritual,” he stated. Simon nodded, glad there was a way to affirm it without having to put anything into words right now. Was his father upset? Annoyed? Adrian Hawthorne just continued with that unreadable exterior that he always held. It was frustrating.

“It is what happens at the end of each of our annual balls. All the covens come together as a united front, we toast to another year together, and we have a large fire as a symbol of divinity - and to demonstrate our religious zeal.”

Simon wanted to ask about the messiah and about the screams but he knew that if his father wanted him privileged to that information he would have told him but he also knew that if his father knew he knew about the messiah and the screams that he would have at least attempted a lie of a cover story. For now, Simon thought, it was good that his father did not know that Simon himself knew. “It was the only part of the ceremony I had missed. Vanessa dragged me away to see her paintings and previously she hadn’t let me see her paintings all summer,” Simon explained, rather impressed that he could keep the disgust that he was feeling at bay from his voice.

“They are museum worthy,” Adrian said, speaking of Vanessa’s paintings and Simon was glad for a diversion of the subject. He could drop it right now and give his father the illusion as if asking about The Ritual was nothing more than a mere question - as if he wasn’t fixated on it. “I agree.”

He probably wouldn’t see his father again before he left and Simon was just fine with that. If he had committed the atrocities that currently plagued Simon’s mind, how could he live with himself? How could his father call himself a God-fearing Christian when he was playing God
himself?

“I should get some sleep soon. Early start tomorrow,” Simon said, preparing for his exit. It was early morning when he would head out but with the quickly rising sun, he would make his destination to the train station without any of the members of the vampire coven, including his father - thankfully.

“Then I shall see you next on your Spring Break,” his father stated. Stated. It was a statement, not a question. He hated how his father was so absolute in everything that he did or said - as if it was his way to every detail or no way at all. Simon wouldn’t question it though as there was far too much to figure out there, an entire mystery to properly unravel and perhaps solutions to be had. Maybe by Spring Break there would be a plan. “Yes. See you, then.”

Simon took leave from his father’s study, glad to be away from his presence. He had always felt there was something off about Adrian Hawthorne but now he was starting to realize that perhaps it was so much more than that - an evil essence, a lack of morality, a soulless darkness.

And were the others just as bad? Even Vanessa? What if she was nothing more than his father’s little spy, there to befriend him and then report on anything he did or say to her? It sickened him. It angered him. It frustrated him to no end and he decided he was not going to leave that Christmas visit until he spoke with her; no matter the potential consequences.

He took the direct pathway to her bedroom and knocked upon the door. There was little chance she was elsewhere so Simon was pretty certain she was inside. “Vanessa. I need to speak with you,” he said, unsure she’d hear through the heavy wooden door. He used the knocker again and by the second knock, the door opened. Vanessa watched him, an unreadable expression. Simon was growing so tired of the vampires and that sort of expression. “Can I come in or can we go somewhere a little….more private?” he asked. He watched as she drew in a slow breath, her eyes seeming to sadden and she opened the door wider, wordlessly inviting him in. He came inside.

Where did he start with her? Did he tread carefully and leave out some information to try and manipulate the situation like he did with his father? “I…..” he paused, not coming up with the words. Simon sighed. Vanessa motioned for him to sit in a chair that she had in the large room and after he sat, she sat down on the sofa beside it. “...Are you just like the others?” he asked. She brought one of her hands into the other. “I mean…. I don’t even know where to start. I don’t even know what to say,” he whispered.

Vanessa shook her head. “I’m not. Not yet. Probably some day I will be,” she spoke, her words shaky. “I know what you’re asking. I know why you’re asking. Please…let me explain,” Vanessa continued. “I’m here for you, Simon. I’m on your side. I’m your friend. I’m your ally. I promise. I promise on every happy memory I desperately try to hold onto of my family and I promise on their well being for all eternity. You’ve been thinking about the night of the ball, haven’t you? You’ve come to some ideas about what happened when I dragged you away. And your father has spoken with you about it.” He nodded.

“I’m here for you, Simon. Dedicated to you. Always,” she reached over and brought her hand out towards him and when he didn’t bring his to join hers, she reached further to take his. “Please, Simon,” she repeated her plea and squeezed his hand before removing hers.

“Your father called me in earlier today to say that during the game of Charades that there was a paper slip with your handwriting that simply said ‘The Ritual’ and that meant you were prying - you didn’t understand what that all regarded and you were hoping that one of the vampires would give you insight through their actions. He knew I was with you when The Ritual occurred during the ball. He wanted to know what you heard, what you saw, what you knew. I told him that I dragged you away before you heard anything, before there was anything to see - that I brought you here to see my paintings and that you knew nothing. I didn’t tell him about how you even saw a fire. I gave him only the bare basics because he would not be upset with any of that. He wants you to know about The Ritual but in his timing. And I…I went along with that because you listen to the leader of your coven and you especially, maybe perhaps no matter which coven you are apart of or none at all listen to Adrian Hawathorne. You don’t ever tell him no. You don’t ever deny his request. You follow.”

Simon watched as Vanessa looked down, her eyes watery as she spoke but no tear ever ran down her face. “And I went along with it because it’s a terrible, terrible thing. It’s….. It’s atrocious what is done. And I’m shamelessly a part of it by allowing it to go on. I don’t want to be a part of it but I’m too much a coward to do anything to stop it. I don’t want to be a coward, Simon. Maybe once upon a time I would have been able to figure out a solution, been able to gather the courage to stop it - but each year I grow more and more like them. They weren’t always this way. We grow cold. The darkness encompasses us; consumes us. Little by little we lose our humanity and become less what we were and more toward nothingness. It’ll happen for me someday. I don’t know that I ever will be able to think of solutions to big problems or find courage where courage is needed.”

“But I don't agree with any of it. I hate all of it. Please, believe me. I only followed orders and I only wanted to shield you from the most unstable of everything that goes on here. I will always protect you.”

She was looking back at him again, her eyes pleading that he understood; accepted. Simon got up from the chair and came over to the sofa and took seat beside her. “I trust you,” he whispered. “And this isn’t something we can figure out all at once, alright? Don’t be so hard on yourself. There’s higher powers at play that are making the plans and decisions. And you are more Vanessa Varon, an amazing person, than you are Vanessa Varon, member of the Chosen Ones of the One God. Understand?” she nodded, melting into his embrace as he hugged her.

The two talked for a short while longer before he said his farewell for that trip. He would see her again soon, during his Spring Break it seemed. Adrian Hawthorne had said so and as Vanessa said, you don’t tell Adrian Hawthorne no nor deny his request. You follow. Simon had seemed to figure that out as well. Besides, it was always better to come here to the Castle of Babilstow than to have Adrian Hawthorne come visit London. That ‘man,’ if you will, did not need to be around Aunt Maggie, Uncle Mark, his soon-to-be new cousin, any of his friends, or his beloved AngelFyre. It was better if Simon came to Adrian than Adrian coming to Simon.

There wasn’t anyone else he needed to talk to and maybe he really should get some sleep before his early start tomorrow. …..As if sleep would find him. Okay, maybe he should at least get some solitude in his own room before his early start tomorrow. Simon made his way from Vanessa’s room to his own, venturing through the empty corridors. Empty, with the exception of something on the corridor floor right in front of his bedroom door. It was almost the size of Rascal, his pet rat back in London but it wasn’t anything alive. Maybe he had dropped something on his way out that morning - perhaps a glove or a hat. Simon came to his door and stopped in front of the item and now upon closer inspection could see it was the small golden teddy bear he had given Lilith. "Thank you. I shall name him Simon." - she had teased when she received it. It had been the only time that Lilith had ever referenced his name correctly and had surprised him. Simon knelt down and picked up poor golden bear Simon, full of pins that stabbed him in every single direction. Lovely.

Sleep didn’t find Simon that night but he remained in the seclusion of his own bedroom, safely away from the ideas and morals (or lack there of) of some of the others that lived in that castle. There was nothing that slowly chipped away at his morality, his cleverness, his courage, his strength. In fact, his faith and his education and his experiences in the world only continued to strengthen him in all aspects. Perhaps he could, in time, figure out a viable solution to the mess at hand. Somehow it had to end and he couldn’t properly and morally accept himself if it continued. It was all sorts of wrong, but how could one person - just a nearly sixteen year old wizard, solve generations of issues of an entire society? It would certainly be something to think about.

And soon he would find reason to REALLY focus on a solution. That morning, Simon gathered up his bag and headed down to the front entrance of the castle, passing by that stock room he had seen during the night of the ball where the blood had been stored. Thinking back, there were lots of things stored in that room that seemed odd to him and he decided to make a quick trip before his exit. Inside, there were wooden crate boxes, a large cross perhaps fifteen feet tall, and lots of other various items. There was an area to his right with a long counter and some shelves that contained bound notebooks behind golden lined glass doors. Simon walked closer and saw dates written upon the spines. Years. Simon opened the one marked 2000-2025. He flipped through the pages. Various names had been written down under each year and then had been crossed off until only one remained. Some had only a few names, some pages had dozens upon dozens. He went to 2024.



All names were crossed out like the other pages but one - Rosceline. Simon thought of Clara’s friend. These were the names of the chosen Messiah. Simon felt a chill as he looked at the name and then it occurred to him - another annual ball and Ritual and chosen messiah would occur this year. Was there already a list in progress? Simon quickly turned the page to 2025. Only one name was written.

Clara

No, not Clara. Not Clara! Simon felt weak as he stared at the name for several more moments before shutting it and placing it back into the book cabinet. It was more important than ever now to find a solution - and quick. Before this next summer’s end.

Simon left the storage room, ensuring it was exactly the way he found it, and gladly departed from the castle. Such an odd place filled with such an assortment of individuals. Simon could happily turn away from most of them but it was the few that he couldn’t that would keep him tied to the place, tethered, chained, and connected.

“Ready to go, Simon?” Anders greeted him as he got to the carriage. Simon slipped his bag into the cabin. “So ready, Anders,” he said with a heavy sigh, not sure whether he wanted to take a deep breath to take in everything he had learned on that trip or just breathe it all out and hope to forget it. He couldn’t forget it. It was all too important.

“Anders? Mind if I open the window and we can talk on our way to the station?” There was a little window in the front of the carriage near where the driver sat that was always closed but Simon didn’t feel much like being closed off right now and alone to his thoughts. “I don’t mind at all,” he said. Both got situated and the horses took off, each stride distancing himself from the madness. “Anders, my father. You’ve worked for him awhile?” “A good while, yes,” he said. “In fact, working for your father is the only job I’ve ever held.” “Does anything about him, or the others, seem - particularly off to you?” Simon ventured, his curiosity getting the best of him. Just what did Anders know? The man beside Simon smiled. “I know what your father is. What they are.” Simon watched him. Did he really? Like - really? “Oh,” Simon said.

He fell silent. “Do you live…..close by?” Surely Anders didn’t come from the village because he left the village, he drove cars, he went to places like train stations to pick him up on his visits. Anders nodded. “I live in Lostwithiel, small town. There isn’t much work there and not one that pays what this pays.”

“Anders, did you drive me on my visit during last Christmas? When the accident happened?” Simon asked, wondering if he was overstepping but so far the man had answered, hopefully honestly, all of his other questions. The driver beside him grew quiet. “No. That was Jenkins. Something must have spooked the horses and they veered off road, tumbling down to the ravine. Jenkins was thrown and the horses didn’t make it. Your father was livid. Didn’t find out about it all until after you had left back for London and we found all the wreckage. I’ve now been instructed to be the only one to transport you. You’re in good hands with me, Simon, my boy.” Simon smiled, realizing it was a play at how he had earlier in the trip called him “Anders, my good man.”

“Excellent, get me back to London.”