> The First Willowbrook Christmas
>  by Starscribe
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> A Very
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lilac Empathy listened to the words of the strange hymn, moving her mouth along to each verse. Her school had so many students that one little pony in the back who wasn't singing could hardly be noticed.
The other students each sang along as though it were music they’d heard for a lifetime, as familiar in their way as the old Christmas tunes that came back onto the radio year after year. They sang with much of that same energy that a child's choir ought to.
But the words they sang—that was where she found the difference. They weren't looking forward to a silly holiday where they would receive gifts from their parents, or even a slightly more religious version of basically the same thing.
Whoever had written their songs had an entirely different purpose in mind—they were afraid. She read along to songs about ponies running from a terrible cold, a cold so intense that it froze their families solid and turned every city it reached to an icy mausoleum.
Her school sorted each group by species, what the ponies called “tribes,” then again by sex. That meant that she was on the wrong side of the room, only one row away from her best friend. She went by “Firefly” now, with far less reservation than Lilac had for her own name. 
She also seemed to be enjoying herself, practically bouncing up and down in her seat as she sang about an ancient, probably apocryphal group of ponies, fleeing an incredible loss of life from one city to another.
The other little ponies in their class were, unsurprisingly, the ages they actually looked. Their attention varied, their skill in music was middling, and most of them only paid attention at the fun parts. But like Lilac, Firefly's true age was greater than chronology suggested. She knew how to sing, so much that she led the other pegasi rather than blending in like Lilac was trying to do.
Why does she care about their stupid fake holiday, anyway? She's supposed to be waiting for me to get us home.
Finally, they came to the last verse of the last song. The mythical ponies reached a secret altar, hidden in an ancient land dedicated to the True Gods. They would grant protection from the biting cold, in exchange for an offering of blood each year. It was a small price to pay while the world froze, a very little thing.
The mythical ponies agreed, red lights flashed through the room, then the pianist stopped playing.
There was no applause, because there was no audience. They performed for a row of empty windows, and a late afternoon sky. Only freezing cold air drifted in through the windows. On the whole, it made for a poor audience.
"Very good," said the headmaster. Lilac hadn't bothered to learn his name. He wanted her to learn stupid pointless things, just like the rest of these little ponies. But she had no intention of being here long term, so there was no point putting in too much effort.
She didn't have to be a “good match” for a “fine stallion” one day, because
1. that was gross,
2. she'd be gone long before then.
She better, because it wasn't just her that Lilac was responsible for. Her best friend was still counting on her getting them home. She was the one who understood magic, and only she could overcome the barrier between worlds. Without her, they would be stuck in Willowbrook for the rest of their lives.
"That performance will suffice for the year," the stallion said. "I can see not all of you devoted yourself as you ought to. I should not need to remind you of the danger we are all in. With the advent of winter, we find ourselves again at the mercy of the Windigos. Proper veneration of the True Gods, proper offering given to the ponies who can intervene, is our only route to survive another year. Do not think that the sacrifice of your parents will be sufficient for you."
The stern unicorn paced past the assembled children, as though he were dressing down a group of army recruits. She didn't know his name, but the stallion definitely mastered the scornful affect. His body was sharp and angular, his gray mane giving him a glow of dignity and old knowledge. 
Even the youngest foals kept their mouths closed until he was past them.
"We go now to the shrine," he said. "Each should offer a few drops. You may go with friends, but do not leave until you have made your offering. My institution will not be responsible if you fail to avail yourselves of our sponsors' protection. Your parents and guardians will await your return at the academy steps. We will begin with the seniors. Others, wait your turn."
The room devolved into chaos. Ponies scattered into their various groups, friends that crossed tribes or years meeting back up after their forceful separation for the performance.
Well—maybe “performance” was a little too generous a word. Their parents weren’t invited to watch the children sing. Maybe “ritual” was better. 
None of the children seemed to mind. Most of them didn't know any better, they were just following the instructions of the adults in their lives. But one did. Instead of joining her right away, Firefly lingered with the other winged ponies. She spoke in an eager whisper with the other girls, complimenting one on her performance, and giving advice to another.
Lilac didn't know their names either, or particularly care. She just retreated into a back corner and fixed her friend with a pointed stare. Eventually she noticed Lilac's attention. Then she left the other ponies behind, flying across the room to Lilac's hiding place in the back.
She was already becoming a skilled flier, though nowhere near the natural-born pegasi around them. It makes sense. She was athletic in our old world, so she can do that stuff here too. Maybe Lilac would be learning earth pony things, if she didn't have to spend so much of her time on magic.
The difference was that she didn't want to learn any of those things. The more time she could spend on magic, the happier she would be. She would find a way home, even if she had to drag her best friend by the tail to get her there.
Nopony else noticed them. Most attention was on the front, where students lined up for their chance to leave the auditorium. Where they went after that, she couldn't exactly say. They would all have to visit a “shrine” apparently.
"Hi Lilac!" Firefly landed a short distance away. She wasn't very good at that either, and had to jog a few steps to slow down, nearly smacking into a wall. She managed to stop without hitting it, somehow. "Pretty cool holiday party, huh? We used to do things like this at my old school every year."
"Holiday," she repeated. "You mean Chr—" She wanted to say its real name, the same way she wanted to say her own name. It didn't matter how badly she wanted to get the words out, or how much energy she poured into it. Her mouth wouldn't move, and the only result was a steady throbbing in her forehead.
Lilac and Firefly couldn't use many specific words about their home. They could talk in vague terms, they could make general suggestions, or rephrase them into Equestrian equivalents. But Lilac couldn't talk about the real winter holiday, no matter how hard she tried.
She felt something settle onto her back after a few seconds—one of Firefly's little wings. Hers were bigger than many of their classmates, with different colored feathers on the underside. Maybe their size was part of what made her better at using them. "Deep breaths, Lilac. Just call it Hearth's Warming. It's close enough to the real thing."
The room was already about a third empty by then. Most of the instructors were gone, with only a few remaining to shepard students generally towards the exit. It was late afternoon on a weekend, they probably wanted to get back to their families as much as anypony.
"It is not. Come on, Firefly, you were singing along. Blood offerings are not part of any winter holiday I know of. This whole musical performance you just gave for us—you were basically bribing an evil cold god not to kill you. That's the holiday."
For all that, she didn't try to make her friend move her wing. They were soft and warm. Lilac longed for physical contact in a way that she had never much cared about back home. She refused to admit it of course, and thus yield to the humiliating transformation. So long as she kept ignoring it, she could stay in control of her life.
For a little longer, anyway.
"I'm sure that's just... the old tradition," Firefly said. Though for all the confidence in her voice when she sang, there was none in it now. "Willowbrook is just like that. Maybe it's because we're horses now. Motivated by fear instead of rewards, or... I dunno. You're the psychologist."
She had been, once. She had the degree hanging on her wall to prove it. Except that her offices were probably foreclosed on by now, her patients long since moved on to other doctors. She could only hope that they'd made the transition with a minimum of pain. After half a year gone, there was no chance the two of them weren't declared dead. The funerals would be over, their loved ones moving on.
It wasn't too late to pick up the pieces, if Lilac could find the way to open the door. "It was probably real once." She twitched, trying and failing to reach the burned scar on her back. At that moment it was hidden by the ugly uniform jackets they made every student wear for formal occasions like this one.
Underneath, some of Lilac's coat was perpetually missing. It was a price worth paying to save a life, especially since she was the only reason Little Risk had been in danger in the first place. Now it ached, and it might forever.
"There are real fire demons. That plane has an opposite, for cold instead of heat. If something got out, it could rampage just like that song said, destroying everything it touched."
"Lilac," another voice spoke from nearby, startling her to look up. It was familiar, because it was Risk's voice, the unicorn boy she'd saved. His uniform was far more sensible than the almost-dresses they made girls wear.
Maybe Lilac could get him to ask for an extra uniform, then steal it from him. She was about done wearing the girl stuff.
"Lilac, we don't have to wait until last. It's already our turn."
She took one step towards Firefly, and away from him. "I'm going with my friend. You can come with us too if you want. But I'm not going without her."
He groaned, glancing between them. "I know you two are... from the same place. But your family is important, Lilac. House Vale is entitled to almost anything you ask for."
"I ask to be with my friend," she said, each word slow and deliberate. "We were just talking about a much better version of this holiday. One that most p-ponies look forward to every year, instead of dreading."
Risk rolled his eyes. "You mean the lies they repeat in the rest of Equestria? About how ponies 'overcame' the Windigos just by feeling good about themselves? It would be nice if it was that easy. Say a few nice words to each other, and the ancient evil goes back to sleep. Unfortunately not—we have to force them to leave us alone. Make the right signs, the right offerings. At least we know who really has the power in the world, instead of blindly worshiping the princess."
The way he said it, he seemed to be waiting for some angry reaction, either from them or some other listening pony. But none came. They were in Willowbrook, after all. Lilac and Firefly had no personal investment in Equestria's political system. Why should they care what he said about the princess?
They shuffled vaguely towards the exit as other students made their way out, but always remaining far enough away that they couldn't be overheard. Lilac wasn't going to hold the prestige of her adoptive family over other kids—but if their fear of her meant they didn't try to talk to her, maybe some parts of it weren't so bad.
She didn't mind Risk's company, even if he could be a little silly. He was young, but his knowledge of unicorn magic had already proved incredibly useful.
Besides, he didn't act as immature as most of the other foals did. Lilac only had so much patience to deal with kids, even if she was one.
"If you want to celebrate a real holiday, you don't have to go along with what they're doing," Lilac said. She still kept her voice down, in case any of their instructors happened to be listening. A school that went to so much trouble for their ritual would not take kindly to her openly defying it.
But nopony bothered them. All she had to do was look like she was obeying, and everything else took care of itself.
"Forget blood offerings at a ritual shrine. Get a tree, decorate it, make cookies and a honey ham and stockings and anything else your family used to do."
Firefly looked back, expression transforming to a grin. From her face, she genuinely hadn't even considered what it would be like to defy the adults around them. "I... don't think my dad understands the local holidays very much either. He acts like he's putting me in charge because he wants me to develop leadership skills or whatever—but I think he doesn't know. I could tell him whatever I wanted."
"The pony who adopted you," Lilac corrected. "I know we're... stuck with some of the dumb words. But you shouldn't let them manipulate you."
Firefly shrugged open both wings. Even at the end of the line, even with nopony watching them, her expression remained furtive. Who was going to catch them here? Who cared what they had to say?
Firefly, apparently. The same way she let them bully her into singing along with the ritual. She would probably go right along with blood offerings at a cult's altar if Lilac didn't get her to stop and think.
"What about you, wanna have a... holiday party with me?" Firefly finally asked. "You can even come, Risk. So long as you don't act all weird."
"I'm not gonna act weird," he snapped. "Are you sure it's a good idea to have a party during the season of cold and despair? We don't have infinite protection against the Windigos, even with the right blood offerings. They won't like it if you spit in their faces."
"They're not gods," Lilac said flatly. "Even if they're powerful spirits of cold and darkness, they don’t know what we're doing."
She patted Firefly on the shoulder, making the short pegasus look up. Short compared to an earth pony like herself, anyway. "We'll have to do it at your place. The Vale household is just going to cower around the fireplace and mutter prayers like everypony else."
Firefly's smile faltered. "It... might not be as great if I host it. We don't have the money you do. My dad—the one who adopted me—winter is tough. There aren't as many currents bringing in new parts of the Cumulus Maze for him to explore. It will be better in spring."
Finally, they reached the doors and had no choice but to make their way out. The line of students continued into the center of town. Most of them weren’t making it all the way back to join up with their families at the school, despite what the headmaster said. 
She couldn't see the shrine from here, but what did that matter? Lilac wasn't going to give offerings at it, anyway.
"Money is whatever." Lilac reached into the pockets of her silly jacket, withdrawing a little cloth pouch filled with different sizes and shapes of metal coins. She tossed it to Firefly, landing it on her back. It still sucked to just use her mouth for everything, but she had months to practice now. Lilac was learning.
"Spend that however you want, and tell me when it's gonna happen. Willowbrook ponies seem like they... actively hate the holiday. I can probably get away with spending it with you."
"Oh." Firefly rolled sideways, catching the little pouch of money with a wing, then tucking it away again. "I can do that!"
She leaned out to one side, staring at the long line of waiting students. She groaned, settling back in beside Lilac. "The pegasi are practically there already. Why'd you have to pull me out? Half the shops will closed before we finish with this dumb ritual."
"Because nothing they're doing matters. Just wait for a group of ponies to pass by, and go. I'll cover for you."
Risk cleared his throat loudly, glaring between them. "She needs to give an offering before she leaves, Lilac. So do you. The true gods can't protect us if we don't."
"She doesn't," Lilac said, just a little louder. Loud enough that the ponies directly in front of them turned to stare. "Go on, Firefly."
"You're the best, Lilac!" The pegasus leaned in close for a brief, pony hug. She only had to wait a few seconds more for an opening: a large group of tourist ponies moving through town. When they weren't looking, she slipped into their group from the back. Soon she was gone, and none of the instructors noticed.
"This is a very bad idea," Risk repeated. "Weren't you listening to the music? The Windigos almost wiped ponies out. Being nice to each other isn't good enough."
Lilac shrugged. "You can go wait in line for the blood altar if you want. But I can see the family carriage waiting at the front of the building. I'm leaving."
> Merry
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Firefly didn't usually take the stairs up to her apartment anymore. It wasn't just that the climb was long and inconvenient, though it certainly was. But the instant she learned how to fly, why would she ever waste her time trudging up step after step.
She had a painful reminder of just how miserable that process could be, now that she had heavy bags weighing her down.
There was simply no chance she could fly with that much weight. As she got higher in her building, even the apartment  seemed to struggle to hold up her weight. 
Nothing in Willowbrook was quite ordinary—much of the city's ponies huddled in old stone construction from before the fall of Nightmare Moon. Those that didn't ended up in places like her father's apartment building.
There was no building code, no attempt at anything approaching meaningful safety standards. Instead, with each floor Firefly climbed, the old building grew more precarious. Each floor was grafted to the ones beneath it, and somehow they had to expect it all to stay standing.
Firefly was a pegasus filly—light enough that she could land on the upper branches of trees without much difficulty. But the weight of a Christmas feast was enough to make her worry. The building didn't usually groan so loudly on her way up the stairs.
Eventually she reached her front door, and the several locks she had to open to get inside. Once she thought that Dust Storm was just being paranoid—but after months in Willowbrook, she now knew that everyone acted that way.
She had to use her mouth for most of it, though she was decently good at using her wings for lightweight tasks. She couldn't put much force on anything, but locks didn't need it.
The lights were off inside, as usual. Her dad used them about as much as a bat pony. At least they had finally finished moving his furniture collection.
That was the charitable way to think of it. Technically speaking, he was probably just a hoarder. Now thanks to her, he could be a “recovering” hoarder. Dusty wasn't like those struggling people who got made into TLC shows. All he needed was a little outside perspective to remind him of what a normal person kept in their house.
She could walk all the way into the kitchen without having to fly over stuff. Good thing, since she couldn't fly. "Dad! I've got a delivery coming in a few minutes. Hope that's not a problem..."
There was no reply. Both of their bedrooms were off of the dining room, and she peeked towards his. Her own was open, and the space beyond clean and orderly. Not a single item of Dad's furniture collection imposed on her space.
The kitchen and dining room were mostly clear now too, except for a large pile of expensive, mismatched chairs in one corner, all stacked on each other. Dad wouldn't get rid of them no matter how many times she pointed out that their different colors would never work together in any coherent room.
"Dad!" She raised her voice, spreading her various bags out onto the kitchen counter. "I'm gonna decorate like you said I could! I got the, uh... Hearth's Warming... stuff!"
Again, there was no answer. Not completely unexpected. The stallion worked a strange job, salvaging from the ever shifting ruins of sky buildings that found their way over Willowbrook in Equestria's air-currents. When somepony spotted an interesting building, he had to go up, no matter how inconvenient the hour.
That's for the best. He can't tell me no if I'm already doing it.
She wouldn't have much time to work with, so she would have to use it wisely. 
From the growing gloom on the horizon, she guessed she had an hour at most before her dad returned home. By the time he did, he would find a much improved version of holiday festivities. Lilac was right about one thing: why should they have to settle? 
She was already doing such a good job just enduring the new life in Equestria! Not many others could adapt to a new body, make some new friends, and keep from completely losing their minds in the process. She deserved some credit!
She started by dumping the contents of her bags out into the room. Only the single tourist shop near the train had anything that even resembled proper holiday decorations, so she had to get most of that at a fabric shop. Rolls of sparkly stuff with lots of tassels kinda sorta resembled tinsel. She wasn't exactly sure what the balls were for, but once they were painted they would serve as adequate ornaments. 
At least Equestria had candy-canes. In the last six months, Firefly had a crash course in learning to cook. Her adoptive father was useless, and also not terribly interested in eating the results.
She added the bags of flour, confectioner's sugar, and sprinkles to the kitchen, along with a carton of real eggs. They looked like horses, and maybe they shared some genetic heritage—but they still cooked in much the same way that she remembered. The recipes Firefly was gathering from across Willowbrook—and from the visitors she got to talk to—cooked basically the same way she expected.
By the time she had her first batch of cookies ready to go, she heard a knocking on the balcony door, and she scurried out to meet them. The delivery-ponies looked confused and a little annoyed with the order, but it wasn't like they could refuse.
"One pine tree, and stand," said one, his voice a gruff bark. "You want our help to get it inside, little filly?"
The stallion landed beside the tree, looking over her.
It didn't matter how many months she spent living in Equestria, Firefly would never just adapt to how insanely big everyone was. Part of her still thought like she was tall, strong, and confident. Nopony would mess with her old self. But then this pony glanced in at the open doorway behind her, tail smacking into the railing. "Who else is here, filly?"
"Whole family," she snapped, backing away from him. "Don't bother bringing the tree in. My dad will take care of it. I'll go get him now. Dad!"
She snapped the sliding door shut in his face, then turned to stomp purposefully away. "Dad, the tree's here!" She vanished around the corner, but kept yelling. "Yeah, I told them to leave it out on the balcony!"
There was no lock on that door—or none that would mean anything. If they wanted to, a pegasus could easily pry it off the wall. Her dad had salvaged it from a ruin, meaning the wood was light enough to last on a sky building. Just like so much that they owned.
Then the pegasi took off, and her heart stopped pounding. I'm not alone. That's right, you don't want to come in.
Lilac Empathy was one of the wealthiest little fillies in Willowbrook. She lived in a mansion that was almost a castle, with servants who loved her after saving Little Risk's life.
Firefly lived downtown, where ponies’ teeth fell out, and dark shapes skulked about in corners and alleys once the sun went down. She should do better to remember that.
She wasn't going to let a little scare ruin her night, no matter how rational it might be. She went back to cooking, decorating, and preparing. She mixed cookie dough, hung garlands of real tree branches wherever she could find a place for them. She arranged candles wherever she thought they'd be safe, but didn't actually light any. They would have to wait until the next day, when Lilac arrived for the festivities.
She was not going to appreciate the climb.
Eventually Firefly dared to return to the balcony door, and peek through the wooden slats. The sky overhead was fully dark. That meant most pegasi wouldn't want to be in the air, including herself. Her eyes were excellent when she had sunlight to see by, but became far weaker once that illumination was gone. 
Even in Willowbrook, there were few exceptions to that. A pony needed to see where they were going to find their way around.
One of those landed on the railing as Firefly emerged, daring to step out into the opening. But this was far from the half-dozen swarthy delivery stallions. This was a filly her age, and she was alone.
"Thought I'd stop by," Velvet Moon said, hopping down off the railing and landing at her head level. "Why do you have a baby tree?"
"It's called a—" She tried to say exactly what it was called, and failed. Because of course, nothing could ever be simple. She could do everything to prepare for a holiday, but not actually say its name.
"An important decoration." She straightened it on its stand, looking in approval. The tree was freshly felled, with little patches of spider web on one side. Loose needles tumbled around it, because of course the ones she bought it from had no machines to shake them loose.
If Christmas trees existed in Equestria, they weren't in Willowbrook. The locals didn't seem to know the tradition even existed. "Help me carry it inside?"
"You want a tree inside?" The filly obeyed anyway, joining her on the other side of the tree. She didn't seem to notice or care about the webs that Firefly was avoiding—at least that made one of them.
"Yes. It's a special tree, and since you're here you can help me move it. I already cleared a space." 
Like her, the bat pony wasn't terribly strong—even by little pony standards, pegasi weren't physically gifted. But she was fast, and that was even more important.
They had to drag it some of the way—but that was fine, even if it meant tearing off a few branches and damaging the needles on one side. She turned that part facing the wall, then settled back, breathing heavily.
"And... it's in. Perfect."
Velvet was quiet too, recovering just as she did. But she was apparently stronger, because she had her voice back while Firefly was still overwhelmed. "You gonna tell me what this has to do with Hearth's Warming? Is it part of your wind altar?"
She rolled her eyes. "No, it's not. It's... something we decorate." She stood up, then gestured at the table. "I painted some ornaments. You could help me hang them up, maybe."
The bat looked from her to the painted balls, then back again. "This other stuff—it's Hearth’s Warming too? The socks and colorful string and pieces of trees..."
"Yes," she said flatly. "Almost. Where I come from, we called it something else. But I like my version a little better. It's less... creepy and weird. Now help me."
Velvet did. She carried over a tray of painted ornaments, hovering along beside Firefly to offer them one at a time. She didn't seem confident enough to place very many of them herself, though Firefly couldn't guess at why that might be. It was just a tree; they weren't going to break it.
"Ponies don't seem to care for it much around here," Velvet said, as soon as she set the empty tray down. "Everypony is so afraid. I don't know why—they act like we're about to get attacked. But if we got attacked every year, there wouldn't be any town left."
Firefly giggled. "Yeah, I guess not. You wanna help me decorate some cookies? I plan on having them tomorrow with my family, but you can take a few home."
The bat backed away, spreading both wings. "Nah. I should... probably fly home now. You let me know how it goes, though! You look like you know what you're doing."
"Every year since I was a kid," she said, glancing around the little apartment in satisfaction. In terms of holiday preparations, she could do worse. Maybe the ponies who lived in the rest of Equestria had an easier time, without a cult that hated Christmas running their towns. 
But with what Firefly had, this was a pretty good start. And she would get to spend it with the only other pony in Equestria who ever knew what that meant.
> Christmas
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Are you sure I have to dress like this?" Lilac stared at her reflection, ears folding and tail tucked between her legs. It didn't matter how formal the clothing looked, how close the family tailor had made it to her actual body—it was far from anything she would ever be willing to wear.
But Iris Vale and her family were not the sort of ponies to ask whether she wanted something or not. Lilac would do it because it was expected, and her complaint would mean nothing. "We used the same style as the ancient priestesses of the winter goddess," Iris said. She approached from behind until she was standing almost beside Lilac in the mirror.
They were nearly the same outfit, with a similar level of attention and care devoted to each detail. Clearly no expense had been spared for her ensemble. That did nothing to make her feel better. "I don't see the point of all this work. I'm not a priest for anyone. Shouldn't we be focused on celebrating the winter holiday?"
"Celebrating..." Iris turned away from her, gesturing for her to follow. "The rest of Equestria does. But we know the truth. We know that the events they repeat each year are a fictional construction."
"Maybe," Lilac argued, trailing behind her. She felt like someone's pet dressed up for the holiday, with a silly dress and an oversized red cap. At least this one wasn't fur-lined—but in some ways that would almost be better. "But should that matter? It's about having fun, the reasons aren’t important. We invent reasons to celebrate all the time."
If she somehow took photos of how she looked right now, and took them home to her world, no one who saw would have any idea they were looking at the same person.
At least they wouldn't be embarrassing her. Only Firefly knew the truth, because she had to go through all the same torture.
"Ordinarily, you might be right." Past Lilac's private restroom was a bedroom that made her blush just to look at. Despite her protests, the walls were still soft purple and the bed still filled with plush toys. It didn't matter how often she dislodged them before getting to sleep, the staff would always replace them when they made up the bed in the morning.
She might as well be fighting against the tide for all the good it did.
Fortunately they left quickly, back out into the house.
In Lilac Empathy's old world, she had not been wealthy enough to live in a mansion like this. But when she imagined how people like that would prepare for Christmas, she always saw things like the set of Warbucks's mansion in Annie—bright red ribbons everywhere, smiling servants in green vests, and lots of music.
Instead, the windows were all covered with white cloth, packed in so tight that not even a trickle of light emerged from outside. Only a single trail of candles remained in the middle of the house, leading the way for anypony who had somewhere to go.
"Your father is unhappy with the way we remember the holiday here in Willowbrook, so he always makes a point of being away on his duties. Where he goes, ponies repeat fanciful stories about friendship solving all of winter's ills. But by repeating that story, they make themselves vulnerable. Ponies reinforce a lie. If the Windigos return to their cities, they will remember and rely on that lie. They will freeze to death in their homes."
The great dining room sometimes hosted strange parties, where ponies came from all over the town wearing masks and robes. Lilac was rarely allowed to go anywhere near them. But she would've welcomed a gathering like that—at least it would mean that ponies were there.
Instead, the great house felt almost completely empty. Vale had at least twenty house servants that Lilac had met, and probably plenty more that worked in less visible roles. 
With all that talent and manpower, Lilac imagined a pretty epic Christmas party. Shame they didn't want anything to do with the holiday. 
There was at least one room decorated for the event—a shrine, constructed in a slightly sunken, round room on the first floor. The walls were covered in white curtains, with a few pale lanterns glowing in their glass cases.
The room was unadorned with furniture, and there wasn't so much as a cushion to sit on and relax. The only interruption in the entire huge area was the altar in the center.
This was finer than the one she walked past many times near the center of old town. Instead of stone, it was carved from fine wood, covered from one side to the other in ancient etching. Figures vaguely resembling eastern-style dragons encircled it from top to bottom, with little points of glittering blue stone for their eyes. 
The carpenter had been a master of their craft, creating a work that was lifelike and incredibly dynamic. Shame it was so hideous.
On its top surface was a polished metal blade, extending a few inches up from a low bowl. The blade was speckled with dark blood, and a faint brown residue glittered from the bottom. This was no mere decoration—someone had actually used it.
"I know you already made an offering at your institution," Iris said, directing her to the base of the altar. "We will not repeat it. But before we begin this day, we must supplicate ourselves before the winter goddess, and thank her for her ancient protection. For you, I suppose it may be closer to thanks offered to kindred. Nevertheless."
Those words hung in the air between them, forming their own strange pressure. Reminders of the Seers' dark beliefs. Even after living with me for half a year, she still thinks I'm one of their ancient gods, imprisoned in young flesh. 
Terrible things waited for both of them if the cultists discovered that they weren't gods of anything, and never had been. But she could never admit as much, just as she couldn't tell them about all the other problems with her body. The ancient gods were above caring about such petty inconveniences.
Lilac settled down on her haunches beside Iris, lowering her head as if in supplication to the carving. "She who guards the furtive fires against the cold," Iris whispered. "Whose eyes spy the comings and goings of every storm. Watch over us on this solstice. Let our fuel last until the cold relents, in your due time."
Lilac kept her head down until the little prayer was finished. The words were stranger than most she heard from the many local cultists, but not by much. 
There wasn’t a single servant in the space with them. She smelled no food cooking elsewhere in the house. She'd seen more happiness from an active shooter drill.
"Do you really think she can bless us from... all that distance?" Lilac asked, as they finally left the ritual shrine behind. "I remember being... that far away. I didn't have the power to protect anyone from winter."
Iris stiffened, freezing from her ears all the way back to her tail. "You should probably not say things like that where anypony else can hear," she whispered. "Perhaps it is true. But it is not as we are taught. Your power is undimmed by the depths of Abaddon you were cast into. You remain the true and just rulers of Equestria."
Except you had to summon us here. We couldn't reach on our own. More importantly, they didn't want to be here. She should be back in her own world, celebrating with her own family. Doubly so for Firefly—she would probably have a kid of her own by now. If they were already on the way, they'd be arriving with only one parent.
"Our worship is done for the day," Iris continued. "You may use the time however you wish. We are commanded not to adorn it with false worship as the Equestrians do. Their reverence of myth is not acceptable. Except—one instruction. Don't go into the mountains. Whatever peace you find there is not suitable for a night like this one. There may be cold spirits watching, and we should not test their strength."
"I won't!" she said. There was nothing much to see out there anyway—her magical patrons rested now for winter, and would not call on her again until the first thaw. She would know when the time came, because she would see the first breezie wings emerge from one of her indoor flower pots.
She scampered a few steps away, then stopped so abruptly her hooves slid along the polished wood floor. "We aren't going to... do anything tonight? No... festivities?"
"Absolutely not," Iris said. She was still standing where Lilac had left her, just outside the little ritual chamber. "We obey the commands we are given of the True Gods. Do not test me."
Lilac left without further argument. She returned to her room, then stripped out of the silly dress as quickly as she could. It was far from the worst thing she had been forced to wear in Equestria—but it was still a dress, which she rejected on principle.
She kept the hat, because it was red and felty and close enough to the real thing. The winter chill outside couldn't intimidate her beyond that, not with the endurance of an earth pony and her longer, winter coat of fur.
Changing into one of the silly things caused an endless list of inconveniences—but where there were benefits, she would accept them as the payment given for what she had to endure.
She hurried downstairs, then through a tiny door in the center of a hallway, meant to be hard to see. The people of Vale House were not required to interact with the servants much on a daily basis. Of course it was only another layer of inconvenience when she wanted to find somepony.
Thankfully, the one she was looking for was the son of the house steward, so she wouldn't have to wander through servants' passages until she got caught and kicked out.
He was waiting in their common room, already wearing a pair of little saddlebags. 
He hopped out of the chair as she approached, glancing nervously to either side. But there was nopony else in the room to see. "You know you aren't supposed to be here."
She shrugged one shoulder, ambivalent. "Maybe maybe, who cares? You ready?"
He groaned. "You mean am I ready to defy the traditions of a thousand years, and spend time with one of the dumbest pegasi in Willowbrook?"
Lilac stiffened, freezing in the doorway. "You don't have to come. I can still go alone."
Risk sighed. "I won't say anything to her. I just don't understand the point of being near her. There's nothing to celebrate. Hearth's Warming is a lie."
"Maybe maybe," she said again, turning her back on him. "I'm not celebrating that. Firefly and I remember a different holiday. Technically, it would've already happened in the place we came from. But this is a different world, so I say it happens whenever we feel like it."
Little Risk caught up with her by the time she reached the door. The front of House Vale had huge pillars and guards on duty at all times, with creepy statues to watch over her whenever the ponies weren't around. The servant exit, by contrast, blended into the wall when it was closed, and barely even had a walkway leading out.
Risk shivered the instant he was out in open air, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck. "Couldn't we stay inside?"
"We will stay inside," she countered. "Firefly's place. She should be ready to start the party about now. I've never actually been there before."
"You'll wish you didn't," Risk said. "I've watched her fly home sometimes. She's in the spookiest looking tower you ever saw. Our extra weight might knock it over."
"Then you better practice your teleports now," Lilac said. "Because we're going."



The wind was particularly fierce that day. From the moment Firefly woke, she found herself fighting against the structure of her rooftop home. Windows opened practically on their own, filling the space with blasts of snow and blisteringly cold air. Eventually she lit the fireplace with the largest fire she could, and covered up every window and opening.
There were some benefits to having a father who collected random crap from the ruins he explored in the Cumulus Maze—it meant they had plenty of blankets and fabric to hang over every entrance. Eventually she resorted to covering up every door too, except for the bathroom. 
"They're angry," Dusty whispered, at what she guessed was around midday. "Everypony says we aren't supposed to remember today. When we repeat Equestria's lies, we lose the protection of its True Gods."
Firefly rolled her eyes, but couldn't reply. She had a burning stick in her mouth, which she used to light candle after candle. It was about the right time for her best friend to arrive. Once Lilac was here, everything would be perfect.
Firefly wasn't the best cook. Equestria had no meaningful concept of "roast," so she had to do with a substitute made mostly of wheat and oats. At least they had honey, and some other festive spices. 
It was far from a perfect job—but as she lit the last candle, even Firefly had to admit it looked pretty good. The flickering orange light, smell of allspice, and homemade decorations—she'd definitely celebrated worse Christmases before. This beat anything from when she was deployed, anyway. Couldn't get ham in Afghanistan either.
"It's just a structural thing," she argued, once she had the little lighter extinguished. "Now we've got it all covered up. Just be ready to help me get it open again when my friends get here."
Her dad might be useless at decorating for the event, and worse than useless at cooking—but at least he was permissive. How many other parents would let their little filly decide how to spend her own holiday?
Firefly knew when her friend was coming not from any sound, but by the gentle sway to the building that meant someone was on their way upstairs. She rushed to get a few final preparations done, pulling the huge plate of twice-baked potatoes out of the oven to join their not-roast.
Then she heard the voices. Only two, despite her hopes that Velvet might be coming along for the Christmas meal as well. Poor little orphan, she didn't deserve to be alone for the holidays any more than Firefly and Lilac. But she couldn't force the bat to show up, or she would hide from Firefly for another few weeks, until she reemerged far into the future.
Firefly bounced nervously up and down in front of the door, adjusting the feathers in her wings so none of the green poked up from the top. If she had a few more days to prepare, maybe she could've made something cute to wear. But that last part was probably for the best—Lilac would make fun of her if she wore a dress.
Then came the knock, followed by nervous muttering on the other side. "This can't be it. Nopony should live in a place like this. This building should probably be condemned."
"Help me with...right here." Firefly lifted the heavy blanket they had over the front door, squeezing under it with one leg. The air on the other side was freezing cold, but she could endure it. Firefly's coat wasn't just fur, there were downy feathers underneath, insulating her for flights in the upper air. Not that she enjoyed being cold, hence the fire.
One hoof appeared overhead, pushing the blanket aside for her. She got the knob into her mouth, then managed to open it. 
Cold air blasted through the opening, catching her wings and flinging her backward. She slid a few steps, facing into the wind. Snow was coming down hard outside, a cold far fiercer than the day before.
Two little ponies huddled together in the cold. Even with a heavy jacket, Little Risk was clearly the worse for wear. Snow clung to his coat in places, leaving his face faintly blue around the edges. Lilac had no coat and no scarf, and had plenty of thick white flakes clinging to her. Yet she didn't seem to notice. 
"Firefly? Hope you've got something warm in there, my friend wasn't ready for the trip."
Firefly nodded, gesturing for them to come in. "It's nice in here, but it won't be if you let the heat out! Get in!"
Lilac had to drag the unicorn through the door. But considering how bad he looked, he probably wouldn't even survive the return trip, if he turned back the way he'd come.
Once they were inside, and the blanket was back in place, the oppressive cold began to fade. Firefly brought a few towels, so they wouldn't ruin the already awful floor with a fresh lake. "Food's almost done. Hope you're ready for the best holiday ever."
Lilac followed her into the kitchen. She walked slowly, taking in every detail of the strange house.
Firefly's wings snapped closed, and she looked down in shame. "I know we don't have... as much as you. It's no House Vale."
Lilac nudged her shoulder in a light, pony hug. It was quite a bit colder than usual, since the filly still had snow in her coat. "I wasn't gonna say that. I love what you did with the decorations. Just missing the flashing lights, and some of the music."
"We can sing later," Firefly said. She was beaming again. "Some of them are impossible, but some aren't. I tried them while I was cooking, made a list."
"Perfect." Lilac let go, then turned back the way she'd come. "Mr. Storm. Thanks for letting us visit for the holidays. Risk and I are very grateful."
Risk nodded, shaking free of a soaking-wet towel. "Barely... made it up all your steps."
The older pegasus shrugged his wings. "My daughter insisted this was the proper way to memorialize the occasion. Family, friends, food—clearly she knows something I do not."
He followed her into the kitchen, then stopped beside her, wrapping one wing around her shoulder. Unlike Lilac, the pegasus was actually warm from spending the morning inside with her. Maybe she should act embarrassed all the time like Lilac—but why should she? Dusty did his best, many parents couldn't say the same.
"A few things," she agreed, grinning back up at him. "Like how to cook. You better give it a chance, Dad—it's supposed to be really good." 
"Sure, sweetheart. I can tell you put your heart into it."
The night was everything Firefly could've imagined. The wind raged outside, carrying a downpour of snow that blanketed Willowbrook beneath it. But no matter how angry it got, it couldn't overcome the friendship inside Firefly's little apartment.
It wasn't the life Firefly wanted; it wasn't even the universe Firefly wanted. But with at least one friend from home, it could be enough. She couldn't say the words, but she could still have a Merry Christmas.