'Not a White Christmas' (Ruby Version)

[Alternate Text: A header image of a snow globe with sprigs of evergreen tree and string lights around it. It appears to be lightly snowing in the indoor setting. The main focus is the decoration; it has a shiny, silver base, while its interior is all white. Within the globe, a trio of white trees create a tiny winter wonderland. The title 'Not a White Christmas' is in regal all caps with a crimson shadows stretching out behind it.]

For maximum feels and context, please read (or re-read): "(Un)deck the Halls" before experiencing this writing. 🥰👀🖤

Classical music wafts up to the balcony and viewing area that encircles the grand ballroom.

From here, their guests resemble beautiful bows and ornaments as they slowly twirl and dance, coming together and apart in time with the music. They're so much prettier from afar. Merry red, snowy white, sumptuous gold, and festive emerald tend to overtake the floor in honor of this time of year. Ruby presses closer to the marble balusters, peeking between two of its carved supports rather than standing tall to peer over the top of the railing. She is all alone.

It's better this way.

She shouldn't be kneeling down, hunkered, and watching the revelry that's going on for far too long. Tonight marks the final addition to their family Christmas tree, her most special ornament, before turning in for the following day. The 25th doesn't have any events slated for it. She checked her father's schedule, which also had an end time for this party and a little star mark.

Her parents are late…

Cool marble digs into Ruby's cheek when she rests her face on one of the pillars, feeling her expression dip into a begrudging pout. No one can see her, so it's perfectly fine to be—

Icy blue eyes a shade cooler than her own are on her so suddenly, she almost rears back. Her mother somehow located her hiding spot in the weak shadows of the balcony, finding her place among the encompassing 'U'. She watches Ruby even as her father continues to keep the perfect tempo. Ruby isn't sure whether to cheekily wave, stare, or slink away because she should be with the other children right now.

Still, she remains frozen.

As the song comes to an end, her mother says something to her father who instantly turns to offer Ruby a fond look, although it's muted. He will not smile up at the balcony and draw attention to where his heir is crouched. Ruby has enough sense to stand again, straightening up under both of their attentions that aren't harsh.

Her mother frowns slightly, possibly conflicted by something or unsettled, which instantly redirects her father's focus away from Ruby. He leans in closer under the guise of the music, cupping her face to murmur something. As always, the other dancers cede them space to be in the center, a focal point. They deserve it.

Ruby grips the marble tightly out of concern when her mother tries to glance at her again.

She's already backed up and away, much harder to spot in the waning shadows of the balcony.

Her parents share a private conversation as the final notes fade out before a new song begins. She has been watching them for a while, using the vibrant tie and Rudolph tie tack she selected for her father as a way to locate him. Not that it would ever be hard for Ruby, but she's mildly proud of the color combinations: silver and red, like a metallic candy cane. It matches her mother's silvery dress. They let her have that.

They let her have some 'involvement' before this night's festivities created separation.

A graceful exit is no longer possible thanks to another song sending the dancefloor back into a kaleidoscope of festive colors. Her parents will be caught until the end of it; maybe that's a good thing. Ruby turns from the railing, only to find someone else lingering in the background.

Charles offers a pretty smile that soon twists with humor. "Are you moping around? Now?"

"No, I was simply taking a break," she replies.

"Santa Claus hates liars," he easily counters her before messing with the manual scooter that's leaning up against the wall. The brake lever on its handle hasn't been broken in yet, too stiff from newness. "I guess he doesn't hate you too much though, Rubes. Mine's in 'Racer Purple'."

"He isn't real…"

Charles affects an aghast expression, his lips part in shock before he starts to slowly tip the scooter over from its place of rest. Ruby is fast enough to grab it. Her warning look only causes his smile to lengthen out. "What's real is: our snowball fight," he asserts. "I picked you first—my MVP—and you just left me in the gardens. It was meant to be us versus—"

"I did not wish to play with them."

"Because of a horse? We're supposed to stay in the gardens until they're done, you know that."

Ruby roughly wrestles her new scooter from Charles's fingers because he's still messing with its brake lever. The soft metallic hiss was starting to irritate her. "There was no reason to pelt her with snow," she quickly points out. "I will not waste anymore time on them. This day isn't about them—any of them." More emotion seeps into her tone, a mistake. Charles must pick up on it because his joking posture switches into something else she can't place. He leans in.

"And you threw an icicle, Ruby."

She did.

The distress in the horse's whinny made her so upset that breaking off a nearby icicle felt fair; it happened too quickly. "There were rocks in the snow, Charles, and she is my father's horse," she reasons in spite of knowing how this could've ended badly. He knows it too. Ruby tries to quell her reaction, slipping on a false smile. "I would never aim at you. That's what matters."

Charles takes it—accepts it—by matching her smile before he glances away to the stairs.

"I'll say you aren't feeling well," he decides. "I'll let you mope, and I'll even let you rest for your upcoming snowball fight with your [Surname]."

She dislikes how he said your last name, although there's a palpable 'but' just waiting.

"But remember: someone had to let you."

Charles watches her for a moment until he laughs to himself and leaves down the stairs to both do damage control and inflict some. Still, it means she's alone again, which isn't always a bad thing. Ruby collects her scooter, already mentally mapping out a route through the back halls of the palatial mansion that will become her race track. The marble can endure it. She manages to dodge most everyone, adept at knowing when a child's place is to be seen and not heard. It isn't one of those times.

They had their dance earlier; it was a showcase of cotillion footwork along with their fancy attire.

Now, the adults are having their moment in the ballroom, or more importantly, in the throngs of socializing, gossiping, and business dealings along its edges. Her father once told her that dancing with her mother was a reprieve. Music drowns out the rest while they're kept close in each other's arms instead of assessing what's around. It's an escape in the heart of the event.

She'll remember that.

Ruby's thoughts are the only company she has while careening down the long halls. No one's around to tell her otherwise, so she keeps on picking up speed to blitz down another one and then another. It's only when she grows bold to start trying to twist to a stop or to take a corner too fast, that she realizes a problem. The brake is sticking. It works, just there's a delay in between her squeezing it and how it clamps on the back wheel to decelerate her speed. She starts to slow down—to adjust—but it's still too quick.

BANG!

She hits a side table, an antique that's withstood decades of use, landing on her side in a heap and then something falls on her too. Ruby's earlier anger is still within easy reach. "Damn it!" she half-exclaims. "Stupid piece of—" She stops her cursing tirade when what's on top of her rolls lower to stare back beneath its fearsome, bushy brows. "Ludwig." Ruby collects the old nutcracker with care, hauling herself up into a seated position. The aches from the fall are supplanted by nostalgia from a childhood story. She admires the details of the decoration.

Her father told her a story about King Ludwig, the man whose castle inspired fairytales. He was also called 'mad' by a few, but Ruby liked him on principle of him being interesting. Naming this nutcracker after him occurred years ago, yet he's always posted somewhere to guard their home.

Through the rush of blitzing around, Ruby hadn't noticed she was getting closer to the more private part of the mansion. There are areas meant for public display and business along with those that are in-between before getting to the family's rooms. She glances back down at Ludwig before standing up again and leaving her scooter behind for now. Her gait is a little stiff, tender. At least she didn't break anything.

Like the nutcracker, many of these decorations have been with the Verners for generations. The level of craft in Ludwig's carving and hand-painted regal, military outfit is difficult to find these days. Besides, most new decorations wouldn't have a legitimate mini-weapon.

Ruby smiles down at the nutcracker's glinting polearm axe, focusing on that rather than how her steps are echoing faintly in the mansion. She uses the lever to hold a silent conversation with him. It isn't unusual for her—these self-contained games an only child would create; however, they don't have the same appeal as competitions with you. Ludwig asks for a status report on her injury because he's the only one around to have witnessed the fall.

"I'm tougher than that," Ruby boasts. "Strong."

"Then why the limp, young Verner?"

She doesn't reply to that question, walking with taught poise again and less echoing steps.

"Why the dour mood? You are not the one on duty."

"It feels like it," she mumbles. "I thought dinner and a dance was going to be the end… But no."

"It could be far worse: frostbite, a frigid blade through your gullet, icicle impalement—"

Ruby stops moving the lever when she hears footsteps up ahead followed by voices that definitely aren't her parents. No, they're unfamiliar sounding, one seems frantic and the other's gruff. From a nearby alcove, out comes two people who are dressed in the penguin-like outfit of this evening's servers. They shouldn't be here.

"You said there were fuckin' jewels, Dickens!"

"I know, I know, Marney… Shhh, please, shhhh."

"No, you don't," Marney seethes. "You delivered booze for this party and got ahead of yourself."

"You are trespassing." Ruby's controlled voice slices through their brewing disagreement that will ruin Christmas that much more. She won't let that happen to her family. "Get out."

They stare at her.

She inclines her chin in an effort to make up for the height difference, completely secure in the fact she is a Verner, the heir. She belongs here; it's her home… Her father doesn't need to worry about these people. Ruby stepping forward prompts Dickens, the mousey one, to scuttle back until Marney claps him on the shoulder to stop his retreat. Ruby remains proud, even if they should both be cowing down now, so she pushes it further. "I know your names—your faces—and if you try anything, I will scream."

"Let's just go—she's their daughter. We'll end up, like, I don't even know what they'll do."

Marney ignores her accomplice's fears. "You'll scream over that fancy music?" she asks. "I guess you've got a set of lungs on you, eh?"

"You are welcome to find out," Ruby retorts. "I know my father will ruin you both." That didn't get the lady to stop coming closer. Running could work, unless they have a gun, yet a small part of her recoils at the idea of fleeing. She's gripping Ludwig more tightly now. "…He will."

"Where do your parents keep their best jewelry?" Marney asks. She gestures for Dickens to flank the kid so that they're both advancing on her. "Not the necklaces and chains—those insane gems. If they're real."

"It isn't a myth," Dickens mutters.

Ruby slides her left heel back, torn between bolting and standing her ground when they're mere steps away. "It's a private collection."

Marney chuckles in disbelief. "Okay, where's the 'private collection'?" she clarifies. "We could get that and more for her… Way more."

Her amused leer turns into something opportunistic when she looks back at Ruby; it's something she quantifies in seconds. Marney isn't going to let this go. That's dangerous, and the tiny polearm axe is locked in the nutcracker's hand, possibly glued to the wooden base he stands on. There isn't anything else in sight to toss at her. Ruby's heartbeat picks up just like out by the stables, vision tunneling slightly as she tries to take in what's around—what to do.

She's emotional—angry, upset, prideful, and afraid—but that should be funneled into action.

She was taught better.

But all Ruby grasps onto in this tense moment is an uncompromising need to strike first.

"Nope, she's a kid—a child. It's too far."

"She's perfect, Dickens."

"We can't get out of this! It isn't a quick haul."

When Marney goes to roughly grab Ruby's arm, Ludwig unhinges his jaw to bite down on her extended hand. Ruby ensures at least two of Marney's fingers are in the slot before slamming the lever down. It's brutal, a muted crunch. She still tries to break through those fine bones rather than relenting. Instantly, the intruder cries out, reaching out to push her away from—

A snow globe impacts Marney's head before shattering against the marble in a pool of liquid and glitter. She reels back, stunned, while Dickens stares in horror. Ruby turns to see her mother rather than her father at one end of the hallway with a downright frigid look on her face before she extends a hand to Ruby.

She goes to her in an instant.

Lois brings her to her side in a hug, but Ruby doesn't have a chance to say something to her.

"You wish to view a collection…?"

Everyone turns to Mr. Verner at the opposite end of the hallway, though all Ruby sees is her father blocking an escape. They're caught in between. He hasn't looked at Ruby yet, intent on staring down these Intruders.

"I have one to show you in our curiosity room."

"Sir, listen," Dickens starts. "We didn't—"

"Fuck, she broke my finger," Marney loudly complains, still clutching her head before bracing on her accomplice to weather any dizziness. "Shit."

Ruby peeks down at Ludwig to see the crimson staining his beard alongside his teeth.

"We didn't steal anything, sir. Honestly."

"No, you did something far worse. Go on." Mr. Verner signals to his nearby security. Two men dressed in black follow the order without any hesitation, taking the intruders by their arms to walk them deeper into the mansion. "I will show you what you missed soon enough…"

Dickens is still trying to make a case about how they're mostly innocent, except Ruby is too focused on how her mother's hold tightens to keep her close. She isn't looking at Ruby. Her father continues down the hall. His expression softens for her, though it isn't immediate because he casts a long glance at where the intruders went before concentrating back on them.

He's distracted by what's to come.

Ruby is aware of this, reaching out to take his hand, which hides away that vengefulness so it's just a dapple of something dark. He smiles faintly for Ruby, kneeling to be at her level and taking an interest in the bloodied nutcracker. It almost helps to put her at ease. Her mother's hand hasn't left her even while they're alone.

"Ludwig deserves a medal of honor," Mr. Verner jokes. "I will have one made for him."

"I messed him up, the blood."

"It adds character," he kindly disagrees. "I should have him in our security detail instead."

Ruby feels her mother's fingers briefly tense before she skims them down Ruby's cheek to offer unsaid comfort to her. She spares her a glance before focusing back on her father. "Are we going to have to reschedule?" It's a question no one else has to ask their parents aside from maybe Charles; he doesn't seem to care as much. "Our tree decorating?" Ruby finds it easier to peer at Ludwig's wet beard than the regret eclipsing her father's love for her. "That makes sense…"

It still isn't fair!

"I promise to take care of things tonight, but then Christmas day will be yours—ours," Mr. Verner vows. "Star, you have my word. I cannot let what happened"—he releases his daughter's hand—"stand… They were rather naughty."

The weak humor doesn't land, not when Ruby peeks up to see the unrepentant steeliness in her father's gray eyes. He is beyond outraged, but it's kept mostly controlled. He's better at it.

"Okay," Ruby agrees to those terms. "Also, I hit a side table."

"Were you hurt?"

"No."

"Then we have too many of them, regardless."

Ruby grins some at that. She'd hug her father if her mother wasn't holding fast, but they trade a fond smile before her parents share a look that has multiple levels of communication. She can't parse them all out; no one could aside from the two of them. It's special. Ruby almost rolls her eyes when they share a quick, cheek kiss where her mother rests a hand over her father's heart.

Finally, they part ways leaving the two of them alone in the remains of a broken snow globe.

Ruby watches her father walk away before the suggestion of baking cookies for Santa from her mother doesn't pull a scoff from her. She's aware of the truth, but there's comfort in this little, white lie. Ruby hugs her back in earnest.

Tomorrow will be their day.

. . .

. .

.

"So, it really is blood…"

"Did you think it was ketchup, [Surname]?"

You stop inspecting the nutcracker, Ludwig, at Ruby's teasing remark, lightly batting at her shoulder, though she easily captures your hand to hold it close. "We don't need to revisit that particular, dark memory," you remind her. The dead boar flashes across your mind. "I liked yours."

"You did? It wasn't the most riveting."

"It was yours, so I liked it, Verner." You cut through her playfulness with ease after sensing her vulnerability while she recounted the story. While you know nothing bad happened, hearing that a young Ruby came across intruders did worry you along with the loneliness throughout the tale that she chose not to fully hide. You lean in closer to share a sweet kiss with her, minimally pulling back. She doesn't let you go too far by wrapping her arm around you. "Charles was annoying back then too. At least he's consistent… But it's cute you were 'saving yourself' for a snowball fight with me."

"I merely wanted you to have the best experience of defeat at my hands."

She says that so proudly as if it will make up for the dusting of a blush to her cheeks. You're far too tempted to kiss her to help deepen that hue, but Ruby lifts an eyebrow in challenge. She knows. It does mirror something she said about her parents, those shared looks. For a moment, you seem to relent, letting your hand slip free of her grip before turning back around to kiss her cheek.

"That was 'devious' rather than 'naughty'," she points out without any bite. Ruby is blushing more now, unable to hold steady eye contact as she surveys the undecorated entry. Your days-long clean-up has been successful. The festive decor is almost completely stashed away. "Satisfied?"

"Almost. I think Ludwig should stay out year-round and then I'll be. He can go somewhere else."

"He is a nutcracker."

"He's more than that, but it's your call."

Ruby softens for you, choosing not to say anything further while collecting your hand in hers along with the nutcracker who had been hidden away for too many Christmases in the mansion.