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A Christmas Story: The Immortal and his Daughter


Merci

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I've been working on this story for a few days now but I was forced to rush the ending, so sorry if the ending's an anticlimax ^^"

[spoiler=The Immortal and his Daughter]

Large pelts of snow slowly drifted down from the sky. The sky was grey and unclear, with little sign of the sun, but combined with the snowflakes that fell down with it made the sight a lot more fascinating. It wouldn’t have helped anyone see any better in it, though. The ground was covered in a thick layer of snow, hindering the journey of a small group of people.

 


A man angrily made his way through the snow, mumbling to himself, each step he made sinking deep into the snow. He wore elegant white clothes fit for a prince, elegant white clothes that were perfect, without a single trace of dirt, rips, stains, or string. Unfortunately, these perfect elegant clothes didn’t come with snow boots, making it difficult for him to make his way through.

 

 


“This is ridiculous!” He said suddenly, breaking the silence that had been going on for a couple of hours. “Why do we have to travel through this snow, when there are such easier ways to get to our destination?!”

 


Behind him he was followed by three people, two of which were tired and starting to lag, both of which had brought snow boots, although both of which were also young teenagers.

 

 


“Come on, father, it’s not that bad!” One of them said.

 


Her name was Amy. She was a female, looking about sixteen or seventeen. She wore a thick snowsuit and gloves so as to protect her from the cold. She had black hair that was done in a ponytail. It had originally been straightened, brushed, and cleaned, but on the journey it had quickly become a bird nest. It had flown into her eyes too much, which had forced her to tie it. She didn’t mind that much, though. It was a bit difficult for her to get through the snow, but she managed.

 

 


“Speak for yourself, girl,” another said, whose name was Allen. His body felt tired from having walked through the entire snow. His arms dangled uselessly in front of him, although his legs still continued on, fighting the snow. He seemed to be the youngest, looking only twelve or thirteen. “We’ve been walking forever and ever and ever and still haven’t reached there yet...”

 


In front of them, the man, the father, continued walking forward. That is, if you could call that walking. Each step he sunk into the snow was done in a hurry. In a way, he moved like some strange drunken Javanese dancer.

 

 


The one who was least hindered or disturbed in any way by the snow was Viligance, a magical walking suit of armor. He marched forward dutifully, the snow not hindering him in any way. He didn’t notice the pressure the snow was trying to exert to push him back. In fact, the only reason why he was behind the father was because he was staying behind to guard the other two, the kids, from any possible danger that may appear from behind.

 


“Explain to me again why this detour is in ANY WAY USEFUL!” The father demanded, still taking the lead.

 

 


“As a precaution, sir,” Viligance said, in the voice of a loyal knight.

 


Amy had begun wondering since the start of their journey if that was his real voice, the voice of the spirit before becoming a spirit, or whether it was just a fabrication to allow him to communicate. She didn’t dare to ask, though, just in case she insulted the walking armor in any way.

 

 


The father continued mumbling angrily to himself as he pushed forward through the snow. Miraculously or not, his clothes remained as elegant as ever, and the snow that stuck on it blended with its color. Allen was starting to copy his angry mumblings, but Amy had grabbed and dumped his face into the freezing snow to make him stop before he began acting as grumpily. She was successful.

 


The minutes passed, with Amy and Allen getting more and more exhausted while Viligance and the father remained tireless, although the latter was becoming even more grumpy and impatient with every passing second to the point that his mumblings had become ramblings. Finally, Allen collapsed to his knees, nearly his entire body sinking underneath the snow, and was about to say something when he was interrupted.

 

 


“FINALLY,” the father said, loud and clear, looking off into a particular point into the distance. Amy tried to see what he was seeing, but it was too far for her to see. “Allen, get out of that snow. WE’RE – ALMOST – THERE.”

 


He stressed the last three words as hard as he could before heading off again, and Amy followed enthusiastically, walking like a energized zombie. Viligance stayed behind to wait patiently for Allen to get back up.

 

 


After only a few more difficult steps through the snow, Amy finally saw what Protheus had seen, a large mansion, Airemo Mansion, their destination. Super-energized by the sight of shelter, she ran forward, skipping across the snow before her feet could sink in, and skipped past Protheus, surprising him a little.

 


Amy arrived at the large front doors that stood in front of her, it occurred to her that she couldn’t open it, and waited impatiently for her father to come and open them. When he did, he just pushed them open. A large amount of snow fell in. Apparently the doors weren’t locked in any way whatsoever.

 

 


“Oh.” She said to herself.

 


She entered the mansion, fully enthusiastic, and the warmth inside of it after that long journey in the snow seemed incredibly relaxing. All the fatigue and exhaustion from the journey instantly disappeared. One might call the room the living room. Except it was a gigantic living room.

 

 


“Just so you know, there aren’t any servants here,” Her father said suddenly, his back turned. “Meaning if you want something, you’ll need to get it yourself, or just ask Viligance to get it for you. Don’t disturb me, as there’s something I need to do here for a couple of days. I’m still annoyed by that little detour we had to take.”

 


And without another word, he impatiently stormed off further into the mansion. Amy wondered a bit about what he was planning, but she forgot as soon as the familiar sound of Viligance’s metal footsteps entered the mansion, dragging along a bundle of clothes wrapped around a stick. Or maybe it was just an unconscious Allen.

 

 


Amy’s full name was Ameliorer Damiena Maximus, which wasn’t a very attractive name in the least. That man, Protheus Maximus, was her adoptive father. She didn’t remember her original surname, but nor did she care that much. After all those dark years in the orphanage, her old self had ceased to mean anything to her. She was glad the orphanage was gone now.

 


They were here because there was something here which her father needed to do, and apparently he couldn’t do it elsewhere. She had only been with her father for just over a year, but they had moved around a lot. Airemo Mansion was just one of the many places her father owned all across universes, but this one seemed to stand out in a way from all the other places they had been to.

 

 


A massive BeoVision television featuring a 103”, 100 Hz plasma screen, decorated and coated in diamonds, sat at the very end of the room, accompanied by a Blu-ray Disk Player below and two large speakers for sound. They stood out from the rest of the mansion, which looked like a combination of ancient and medieval. Maybe because of the fact that everything in the mansion, the furniture, floor, walls, decorations, even the paint and materials themselves combined aspects of many different cultures; British, French, Japanese, even Arabic.

 


While she was busy admiring the enormity of the mansion, Allen had been dragged by Viligance towards one of the many sofa randomly placed around the room, and thrown onto it. Amy couldn’t help but frown at the two of them, the servants. Usually it was only her and her adoptive father who traveled. No one else had ever specifically accompanied them before. It took her a couple of seconds to realize that Allen was returning her stare.

 

 


“Why are you looking at me that way?” He called out to her from the sofa. “Go on, girl, shoo. It’s Christmas, go eat some cookies or something.”

 


For a kid who was forced to walk miles and had had only half a minute of rest, his voice sounded powerful. She couldn’t really figure it out, but maybe it was the comfortableness of the mansion, or maybe it was just another of her father’s magic.

 

 


There was something about her father that had stood out from anyone else which she had noticed in the few years she had spent with him. He moved in a way that disregarded his surroundings. Once they had walked through heavy rain together, and while she got soaked with every drop – every now and then nearly losing her balance – he walked as normally as if it were a normal day, disregarding the puddles on the ground and the heavy rain raining upon him as nonexistent.

 


It was only a few months ago when he had revealed to her that he was immortal, that he had lived for over three millenniums, and that he was a bit of a sorcerer in a way. He had begun to teach her about magic bit by bit, but she didn’t get much of it and he was always very busy. Still, he somehow always had time to bring her along. Mostly, all he has ever done is talk to people, direct them, write things in a language she’s never known onto papers, and send them away.

 

 


She knew enough to realize her father always left her to go elsewhere whenever she slept, but she’s never really known what he did when he was gone. Whenever she woke up in the morning, his attitude could have been just about anything. Sometimes he was happy or delighted, sometimes due to success or sometimes due to anticipation. Sometimes he was mad, sometimes due to failure, sometimes due to something unexpected having ruined his plans, or sometimes just because she had caught yet another disturbing contagious disease that he had to waste his energy on curing.

 


And sometimes, very rarely, she caught him sad, just staring off into the horizon, likely recalling a past memory of his. It must have been a rather important one for him to remember after so many years of living. His attitude quickly switched back to his usual one as soon as he noticed her, though.

 

 


Then what the Allen kid had said earlier was processed into her mind.

 


“It’s Christmas?!” She said, and leapt to her feet. She had a vague idea on what Christmas was. It was along the lines of celebrating the snow, which appeared every end of the year and in the middle of the celebration an old man called Santa Claus will give everyone presents. It was supposed to be an important day for many people, but for a couple of years since she had left the orphanage she had forgotten all about it. “How come nobody told me that?”

 

 


While Amy had been self-absorbed in her thoughts, Viligance had taken to sweeping the floor with a broom, a broom which had appeared out of nowhere, as she couldn’t recall ever seeing a broom anywhere around the room. He swept the floor diligently and loyally, without halt. It was a rather awkward scene to look at, a black knight sweeping the floor like a servant. Viligance ignored her.

 


On the other hand, Allen had fallen asleep, probably out of fatigue from the journey, or probably just because the sofa was incredibly cushy and comfortable. Wasn’t he supposed to be a servant? It didn’t matter that much, but she had to wonder why her father had chosen a kid like that as their accomplice.

 

 


She turned back to the walking suit of armor.

 


“Hey, Vil, can you help me find something out?” she called, but he didn’t reply, instead continuing to simply sweep the floor. “Um, hello, Viligance?

 

 


At the sound of his name, Viligance’s helmet turned towards her, but he still continued sweeping the floor from where he was. She guessed that in order to get his attention, she would always have to call him by his full name.

 


“What’s the time right now? And the date?” She asked. She wanted to remember what date Christmas occurred on.

 

 


“The time is four o’clock PM, and the date today is the twenty-fourth of December.” Viligance said, again in his noble, knightly voice. She wasn’t attracted to it or anything. It was just a detail worth noting. She wasn’t expecting him to say anything else so she was surprised when he did. “If you wish to know about Christmas, in most countries it is celebrated on the morrow, the twenty-fifth of December. Many believe that on that day the son of God was born.”

 


In most countries? Amy figured that that meant that there were some countries that celebrated it on different days. That and the other detail about the son of God intrigued her. She chose a small chair randomly lying about close by to Viligance, and sat on it. Viligance was still sweeping the floor.

 

 


“Oh, do go on.” She asked of him. “You can sweep the floor later. But please tell me everything you know about Christmas,”

 


No reply.

 

 


“. . . . Viligance.”

 


The suit of armor suddenly stopped sweeping. In fact, it had suddenly ceased all movement, just standing there motionlessly. For a moment, Amy was worried that she had somehow killed it, but then Viligance turned once more to face her, and the broom in his hand disappeared into thin air, as if signifying that he was to sweep to floor later.

 

 


“Very well, mi’lady.” He said, and although, it was faint, Amy was able to detect a small hint of enthusiasm within his tone. “I’ll tell you all there is to know about Christmas.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 


 


It was still dark. She knew that in a few more minutes, the sunrise would begin and lighten up the mansion. The thick raining snow from yesterday had stopped, and she had taken a peek at the window. It was too dark to see anything clearly, but she could barely make out the thick layer of snow from yesterday. Did they really make their way through all THAT? It was hard to believe. But she guessed that it helped that the fact it had been somewhat grey and neither she nor the kid Allen wanted to be left behind freezing in the cold.

 

 


Apparently there had been two hallways leading from the gigantic living room, and among these hallways there were a lot of doors. It was almost like a hotel, except that they were the only ones here. She wondered if anyone else had ever lived in this mansion. But then again, that was unlikely, as the mansion was privately owned by her father himself.

 

 


One of the doors led to her room, which was a red door. It wasn’t technically red; it was more of a rusty-brown type of color made of a strange hard marble kind of material. It also had a weird doorknob in the shape of a medieval swords’ hilt, so basically one would open it the same way they would unsheathe a sword. She wondered a moment if the designer had been drunk when he designed it, but stopped when it occurred to her that it might’ve been her father. Overall, it was difficult to describe so she just called it the red door.

 


She passed by the red door and continued walking on. The other doors were designed in a similar fashion to hers, but none of them were red. She kept on until she had reached the end of the hallway. She didn’t know what the other hallway contained, but she knew she would never find out.

 

 


At the end of the hallway was a door made of a strange black metallic substance. Viligance had said that the door at the end was the room of her father, so she hoped he was correct. The doorknob, unlike all the others, was a simple and ordinary one, but it seemed exotic when she looked upon it. That was probably because she had seen too many exotic-looking ones.

Amy stared at it for a couple of seconds in a strange kind of way before suddenly remembering what she had come to do, which wasn’t to admire the ordinary yet standing-out doorknob. She turned it, pushed it forward a bit opening the door, and entered.

 


“. . . The last known record of the Sphinx was when the Egyptologist Arthur had encountered a statue of it-”

 

 


Her father had been reading a book, but he paused as soon as he had noticed Amy coming in. He left the book on the desk in front of him and turned around his chair to look at her. He raised an eyebrow, but Amy was busy taking in the room’s details.

 


The room was large, not quite as large as the living room but it was averagely large. The entire back wall was made of glass, allowing Amy to see quite clearly the length of the layer of snow that covered the ground, which was a meter deep by now. And by now, the sky was already red, sunrise was starting.

 

 


On both sides of the room there were two large white bookcases that covered the entire two walls, filled with loads and loads of books, some of them brand new, some of them old and ancient. The floor was carpeted in a whitish color, and the ceiling seemed to be white too. In fact, if it wasn’t for the red sky providing color, Amy could’ve fooled herself into thinking that her eyesight had gone black and white.

 


Placed in front of the glass wall at the back was a small white desk made of a marble substance and a white chair that could spin to go along with it. Sitting in the chair was her father, and when she noticed him raising an eyebrow at her she quickly remembered what she had been planning to do.

 

 


“MERRY CHRISTMAS, FATHER, AND HAVE A HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!” She exclaimed happily, her arms rising into the air.

 


The sound of her voice echoed throughout the room. And right on cue too, the sun rose high enough above the snow to be visible through the glass wall, slowly showering the dull white room with light, light, and more light with every passing second. Amy herself blended well with the light, and in it for a moment one could have been fooled that she was an angel. The very sight was awe-inspiring. If there had been a vampire in the room, there would’ve been no escape for them anywhere.

 

 


Her father, however, was not a vampire. And he was not impressed or awe-inspired in any way. He frowned at his adopted daughter.

 


“What has gotten into you?” He said, annoyed and impatient. “Words like that are meaningless. Don’t bother with them.”

 

 


Amy was stunned. She was expecting a multitude of reactions, but not one like this. Her arms dropped down and felt like useless dead weight. She tried to say something in reply but for a second or so it sounded like random gibberish.

 


“B- b- b- bu- but- but- but . . . it’s Christmas today!” She managed to muster.

 

 


“Yes, so? Is today honestly so important that you have to appear here and interrupt my research with useless statements?” Her father retorted, turning his chair back to the desk, his back to Amy. “Christmas is worthless.”

 


“Y- y- y- you can’t really m- m- mean that, can you?” Amy tried to reply. “It h- h- helps people understand each other a- an- and- and- and-“

 

 


“I’ve lived for thousands of years!” Her father snarled, his voice echoing. “And when has a worthless thing ever benefitted me? Never. People who celebrate it waste their mortal lives, like the pathetic cockroaches they are!”

 


Amy’s jolliness was completely shattered, she herself on the verge of tears. Viligance had told her all there was to know about Christmas, but now it didn’t seem to make any sense, all that random holiday spirit gibberish seemed to be nonsense through her father’s eyes. Was that how it was like to be immortal?

 

“Ch- ch- ch- chris- chris- christmas isn’t w- w- w- w- wor- worth- worthl- worthle- worthless!” She protested, unable to control her stumbling. She was shaking all over. “Ch- ch- christmas i- is m- m- mea- mea- mean- meani- meaningful! Ha- ha- haven’t you ever c- c- celeb- celebra- celebrated i- it- it b- b- b- before?!?”

 


“Well,” Her father said, and paused for a moment to recall a memory. “In the olden days, we did have something similar to Christmas. It was called the Demon Days, and bad luck always happened to us on that day. That was the Ancient Egyptian’s version of what you now call ‘Christmas’, and frankly, they did have a point.”

 


Amy couldn’t take any more. She broke down, crying. “I HATE YOU!” she screamed, and ran out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

 

 


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 


A few hours later, Viligance opened the same door and entered the room. The sounds of his metal footsteps were extremely familiar to Protheus, who had returned to researching, and very clear in the hollow white room.

 

 


“Now what? Are you going to wish me a Merry Christmas too, Viligance?” Protheus asked sarcastically, once again setting down his book, once again somewhat annoyed. “Because I’ve already had someone beat you to it.”

 


For a moment the suit of armor stood motionless, before taking out his sword and stabbing it into the ground. From there, he kneeled down on one knee, both of his hands still on the sword’s hilt.

 

“Sir,” he said, in his noble voice. “I had witnessed for myself the events that had occurred earlier at sunrise. And so, with all due permission I ask of you one thing: why did you reject Christmas in such a way to your daughter?”

 


Protheus spun his chair around to face Viligance, and rose from it. He walked forward until he was in front of Viligance, and looked down upon the mobile armor with an expressionless look on his face.

“She will learn that all celebrations become meaningless once she’s immortal like me.” He said. “And she’s not even my real daughter. Why should I care for her selfish needs?”

“If I may, sir,” Viligance continued. “Your daughter will not be immortal for years to come. And there would’ve been no harm in you accepting Christmas, especially with your eternal life. Every second is yours to waste.”

For a moment, the two of them stood still, the sorcerer and his creation, the king and his knight, the immortal and his friend. Protheus had to admit he had a valid point there, and although he was perfectly capable of derailing everything Viligance said, he decided it would be better to simply rise up and end this matter before it gets too bothersome for him to handle.

“Well, I guess you’re right,” Protheus admitted. “So what do you suggest I should do about that?”

 


----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 


When Allen finally found her, inside her room, lying on her bed, she was still crying into her pillow over what had transpired that morning. When she noticed him, her head emerged from the pillow. Her face was soaked with tears, and her hair was even worse than a bird-nest, a lot much worse than yesterday.

 


“Geez, what a crybaby,” he said. “Still crying over that? Get over it. It was only a minor thing.”

 

 


“G- go aw- aw- away.” Amy sniffled. “I h- ha- hate ev- every- everything.”

 


“Overreaction much?” Allen said. “I looked through all these rooms looking for you and this is what I get? Okay, great, thanks a lot.”

 

 


While waiting for her to stop crying, his curiosity began to wonder. The room was rather nice for that of a girl’s, not containing any dolls or pinkness. The room was sort of simple. The walls and carpeted floor were a dark blue, while the wardrobe was a lighter blue. A mirror was laid hanging on one side of the room, but he wasn’t interested in looking at himself.

 


The bed itself seemed to be quite big, definitely fit for royalty. It was a rich red color, which somehow managed to fit in well with the blueness of the room. It was hard to describe, it was as if the differently-colored room and bed belonged to each other. There was a window on another side of the room, but it was dark outside, as it was already night-time.

 

 


And now that he had examined it, it was boring.

 


“So, when you feel like it, take a shower, brush your hair, and dress into some proper clothes before heading over to the living room,” He said, hoping the girl was listening. “There’s a surprise there waiting for you.”

 

 


-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 


She wasn’t really sure what that Allen kid had meant, but she hoped he hadn’t been playing some cruel kind of joke. She had already taken a shower and straightened out her hair as hard as she could, before putting on a simple black dress provided by the wardrobe. She even bothered putting on a bit of make-up, something she normally never did.

 

 


When Amy was ready, she headed down to the living room. If that Allen kid WAS playing a practical joke on her, she would kill him. Seriously. She didn’t feel very well after what had happened that morning. Of course, she had to admit she was a bit surprised when she had looked at the time. Past Six o’clock already! Apparently that meant that she had cried for twelve hours, without food nor drink. And she wasn’t even immortal yet like her adoptive father.

 

The thought, as soon as it occurred to her, made her feel hungry, and thirsty. Her stomach suddenly rumbled, which was embarrassing. She was glad nobody heard that.

 


When she reached the living room, she noticed that all the lights were off. Funny, she never noticed any source of light or anything the first time she had gone there, which had led her to assume it was another one of her father’s sorcery tricks. And so if she was correct, then that would mean that he had extinguished it. But why-

 


An orb of light suddenly appeared in the center of the room. Or at least, Amy guessed it was positioned at the center of the room. However, it by itself wasn’t strong enough to lighten up anything anywhere, that is, the orb suddenly exploded.

 

 


When it exploded, all of a sudden there was a flash which blinded Amy for a second or two, forcing her to rub her eyes and try to restore her eyesight.

 


“A Merry Christmas to us all, everyone,” said a familiar voice in a relaxed tone.

 

 


When her eyesight was starting to return, she was able to make out a large dinner table filled with a lot of food, especially that turkey in the middle. Despite the large dinner table, there were only four chairs. Three of them were occupied. One of those occupiers was standing up, holding up a glass of- was that wine?

 


“A Merry Christmas to us all,” Amy’s father said once more, smiling genuinely. “And a happy new year. Why the hell not?"

 

 


 


 

The next day, four presents of different shapes had mysterious been placed in front of the Beovision television, each one attached with a nametag, of which read ‘Allen Slugwrath’, ‘Viligance Pendragon’, ‘Ameliorer Damiena Maximus’, and ‘Protheus Maximus’ respectively. Although the former three had originally instantly assumed it was Protheus who had gotten, he denied it and swore he never got them.

 

 


Inside Allen’s present was an iPhone, something he had been wanting for a long time now.

 


Inside Viligance’s present was a tough shield to match the strength of his sword, something he had felt he was lacking.

 

 


Inside Amy’s present was, strangely enough, a letter from another person who had come from the same miserable orphanage as her, as she had been worried she was the last among them. The contents of this letter are still unknown to this day, as she had let no one else see them.

 

And finally, in Protheus’s present, there was a mundane chess set made of wood. Why he wanted such a normal present is still also a mystery.

 


Since they had all gotten what they had wanted for Christmas, and no one had confided to each other about what they had really wanted, they were forced to admit that perhaps Santa Claus really does exist. Or that Protheus had learned a spell on how to read minds.

 

 


Either way, we wish you all a Merry Christmas, and a happy new year!

[/spoiler]
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  • 2 weeks later...

I mean...it was nice, but it was definitely an anticlimax. That's my only strike against it but unfortunately it's bad enough to count for three. Feels like something by a good author using a very bad writing prompt. Good writing, good characters but it's incomplete. No direction. Take the same characters and write another story with it or just rewrite the ending.

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[quote name='Lord Smeagle' timestamp='1325747749' post='5749266']
I mean...it was nice, but it was definitely an anticlimax. That's my only strike against it but unfortunately it's bad enough to count for three. Feels like something by a good author using a very bad writing prompt. Good writing, good characters but it's incomplete. No direction. Take the same characters and write another story with it or just rewrite the ending.
[/quote]

Yeah, I thought so. It's just that I was running out of time so the ending had to be rushed. Rushed badly. But at least it started off nice, right? >_> Well, I guess I would have to just rewrite the ending but I mean, Christmas is already over. /facepalm

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