Twelve Days of a Nevermoorian Christmas

𝒪𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝒟𝒶𝓎 𝑜𝒻 𝒞𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓂𝒶𝓈...

...the Deucalion gave to me, two festive boater hats, and a very large Christmas tree.

It would be a lie if Frank said he hadn't noticed the Christmas tree in the Deucalion's lobby.

It was very large, and very hard to miss.

But Frank if he was asked, he'd likely reply with a snarky, "No, I hadn't noticed," or an, "Oh, really? A Christmas tree, how lovely! How big is it?"

It was clear to anybody that he was upset about it.

And, of course, he was, how could he not be? How dare the hotel go ahead and outdo him. The great party planner, the wizard of spectaculars and the genius behind all things decorative in the hotel! She hadn't even confided, even a little bit, in him about her grand Christmas plans.

Quite frankly, Frank was heartbroken.

"You just don't get it Jove!" He had wailed when Jupiter confronted the vampire-dwarf after the cooks alerted him to the disappearance of several canisters of whipped cream – the indulgence of which was one of Frank's most guiltiest of pleasures. "Am I no longer good enough?"

"I'm sure that's not it, Frank. You do a fantastic job. We couldn't have a better festive organiser than you."

"You mean it? You really mean it, Jove?" Frank had asked, sniffing as he raised his head from the couch to look at the ginger man he was draped across. "Because your hotel is telling me otherwise."

Of course, this was hardly the first time Frank had put up a fuss, especially in the lead-up to a major holiday. Every Christmas, there was always something. Every year, without fail.

Last year it was over the Great Gingerbread Disappearance, which had turned out to be a sleep-walking Frank's favourite treat.

The year before that the vampire-dwarf had thrown a tantrum over Jupiter disallowing an ice-specialist to coat the Deucalion's interior with a thin layer of ice. "It's too dangerous Frank, we have elderly people who'll be slipping down the stairs." "We have an elevator for a reason, Jove!"

And the year before that Jupiter had said that he couldn't bring polar bears into the hotel. "Frank, they'll wreck things and harass the guests, maybe even try to eat them!" "But Jove, we could ride them around!"

The year before held one of the Hotel Deucalion's greatest mysteries – the Case of the Missing Bon-Bons. The Deucalion staff hunted for days, and Jupiter eventually got so sick of Frank's mourning that he hired a detective to find them. But it was no use. They were never found.

And the year before that, there was a horrible snowstorm that prevented Frank from being able to firstly source any decorations, and secondly stopped a lot of seasonal guests from experiencing the grandness of his festivities.

And the list goes on and on and on, dating right back to Frank's first year at the Deucalion when he was still very extravagant but just subtle enough that everyone actually sympathised with him when Fenestra adamantly refused to have snow in the hotel.

Perhaps the sympathising was more to do with this being Frank's first year with Fen as a co-worker, or because they knew the Magnificat looked like she'd straight up eat the vampire-dwarf if he even suggested another outlandish idea.

Either way, the sympathy did not last long, as can be noted as Chanda rolls her eyes as she passes Frank in the lobby, sitting underneath the giant tree muttering something along the lines of, "Stupid tree. I could have done so much better."

That evening around dinner time, Frank dragged his feet up the stairs, heading for his room. He had been denied access to the kitchen, which meant no more whipped cream. It didn't bother him too much, truth be told. It was just emotional eating, and Chanda was always lecturing Morrigan on how bad it was.

He was still more upset at the Deucalion for her breakage of trust.

Throwing the door to his room open with a sniff, Frank strode in, intent to lie down in his child-sized coffin and cross over the realm of the unawake. Perhaps his dream world would prove better, fairer, more merciful than his real world.

But that's when he saw it.

Saw them.

Sitting upon his coffin were two... hats?

Yes, two straw hats with red and green checked bands.

Aha, they were boater hats. Or so Frank came to the conclusion.

But where did they come from?

After investigating his room for intruders, Frank decided that no one could have been in his room since he last was, around lunch that day for a small nap. And that's when it clicked.

He brought his teary gaze up to his wall. He shuffled over with a sniff and gave it a pat.

"So, you don't hate me after all! Thank you, my friend. Shall we leave this behind us, so long as you consult me before conjuring up a giant Christmas tree in the future?"

The patch of wall made no sound, but that didn't stop Frank from grinning. He hung the second boater hat on a hook in his room.

"Now, see, Deucalion. We are matching!"

It would be a lie to say Frank was not positively glowing in the lead up to Christmas.

He was grinning contagiously from ear to ear, boater hat sitting upon his head at all times.

But if he was asked where he'd gotten the hat from, he would likely give a bashful smile and say, "A very dear friend left it for me."

Ah, it was going to be a very merry Christmasindeed. 

~ Written by WundrousPotato