The lights on the tree were dazzling. The pine scent of the wreaths and garlands perfumed the air. A gentle orchestra crescendoed through the phonograph at the other end of the study, and a tiny train chugged along a track that circumnavigated the ceiling. The fire crackled perfectly. Not too loud, not too subtle.

Everything was soft and warm which only made Damien feel more uncomfortable as he listened to his father and mother argue on the other side of the swinging double doors.

“You experimented on him down there for months!” The lioness roared.

Death hissed in retort, “And you raised him as a slave for sixteen years, and then banished him.”

“Priest! He was a priest. Not a slave!”

“Of course. You also never told me I had a son. What else might you be lying about?”

“Fuck you.” The lioness bared her teeth.

“Only for business. Never for pleasure.”

The double doors slammed open, and Damien’s eyes dropped to the floor in the presence of the goddess he once served. Sekhmet crossed the room to him. He was still in the shape of an eleven year-old-boy, and he shrank into himself to appear even smaller. If he could, he’d disappear altogether.

His mother’s dark fingers lifted up his chin to meet her gaze. She was dressed like Jackie Kennedy in leopard print. He tried not to pull away, but his body was tensing at her touch.

“You will always be my favorite kitten.” Her eyes brimmed with tears, but he avoided her gaze. She said, “I’m so sorry. I tried to-” But Death came into the room and stood behind her, and his intrusive stance made her, not uneasy, but angry.

“I’ll see you at the ball, and we can talk then.” Sekhmet finished, beaming at her boy.

“Not if I have anything to do with it.” Death lit up a cigarette.

She ignored Death’s comment and brushed back a lock of Damien’s hair. Damien closed his eyes and visibly flinched this time.

“He doesn’t like that.” Death let out a self-satisfied sigh as he lowered into the armchair by the tree.

She finally turned on him. “And what would you know?”

“Yes, what would I know? Happy Yule, Sekhmet.”

She snarled and made for the door. Both Thanatos and his son were silent as they listened to her heels go from wood to stone and out the front door.

Damien sat motionless, trying not to tremble, trying to keep his composure.

Death made another airy sigh before he asked, “Time for presents, then?”

Damien said nothing as Death reached down and grabbed an elegantly wrapped gift box from under the tree and stretched it out to him. He had to force himself to move off the leather couch to take the present. He returned to his seat and awaited instruction.

Death leaned back into the chair and said, “Go on. Open it.”

Damien did as he was commanded by his new... father. Though Damien was in the shape of an eleven-year-old, he was still very aware of the fact that he was an ancient creature with the power to travel time and space and dimensions, he had lived countless lives, and was well over twenty-thousand years old. Though he couldn’t remember exact details, because he had tried to lock so much of it away, he was frustrated with being treated like an eleven-year old boy by his new father.

Father or master, it didn’t make much of a difference to Damien.

Without mirth, he meticulously slid off the gold ribbon and unfolded the taped edges with care. Taking off the lid to the giftbox, he found a brown teddy bear looking up at him with glossy black eyes.

“A teddy bear?” These were the first words he had spoken all night. His voice was rougher than that of a boy. He spoke with the diction and canter of someone whose innocence was rather abruptly destroyed. He looked up from the bear and gave Thanatos a raised eyebrow.

Death only gave him a small shrug as he ashed his cigarette in the tray next to him. Damien took the bear out of the box and held it up to face him. He let out a nearly inaudible scoff. “That’s uh... I appreciate it.” He set it back down in the box.

“I know you’re not a child,” said Death distantly, “but I thought it might give you some-” He rolled his wrist around in the air as he managed the word, “...comfort. Some semblance of normalcy.”

Damien mulled this over in his head. Normalcy for whom? Who was he trying to make feel better? But this was Christmas, or Yule, as these people liked to call it, and he wasn’t going to ruin this attempt of goodwill with quips or psychology.

All he responded with was, “Okay.”

Death gave a quick glance at the other presents under the tree and decided the teddy bear might have been too much. “Why don’t we get you to bed? It’s late.”

Damien nodded. He had played house with masters before, and though he was no longer a Jinni, he saw no difference. He wasn’t allowed to leave and was expected to do as he was told, and in a way, he was still granting wishes. Death wished to atone for his sins and redeem the time lost and the damage done with his son. It was a tall order for Damien to fill without the use of his magick, which would require only the snap of his fingers.

They walked together out of the study and into the grand hall. Damien carried the bear by its arm, dangling it by his side like a neglected rag doll.

This was Thanatos’s Yule mansion. He had a multitude of mansions with different themes and purposes. This mansion’s sole purpose was Yule. Every surface was lined with garland. Every door was adorned with a wreath. Each fire was lit, and the air was thick with the smell of pine, cinnamon, and cloves. At the end of the festive season, Thanatos would move them into another mansion, in a different isolated world, with a different theme.

They passed the main entrance on the way to the grand staircase, when the front doors pushed open. A burst of frigid wind and snow poured in with the accompaniment of Loki, who was bundled up with a hat, scarf, leather gloves, and a wool overcoat. “Have you ever heard of the idea of Christmas in Florida?” he asked. “I heard it’s quite lovely and warm.”

“Is that where your boyfriend is at the moment?” Death quipped.

“Barbados, actually, in a sense. He sends his apology. He couldn’t make it.”

“Couldn’t or wouldn’t?”

“Neither here nor there.” Loki flashed Thanatos an annoyed grin. “He is still on probation and cannot leave the Netherworlds, if you recall...”

Thanatos let out a pleased chuckle.

Then Loki peered down at Damien. It was hard to remember the boy was, in actuality, an ancient, powerful, recently-released prisoner. And having forgotten that, Loki asked him in the patronizing, obnoxious tone adults use with children, “And how was your Yule? Did you get presents?”

Damien’s annoyed smile was just as obvious as Loki’s had been. Maybe Damien was less inclined to play house than he had thought.

He put on a smile and a transatlantic accent, like he was an orphan from Annie, “Aw geez, Mister. It’s been great. Just great! There’s a train, a tree, and everything! Best Christmas a kid like me could hope for!” With that, his fake smile dropped into a frown, and he walked away with his slightly-limping gait. The two gods watched, stunned, as Damien disappeared down the hall.

“What the hell was that?” Loki asked.

Thanatos blinked and shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m telling you that thing is impossible!”

Death started walking back towards the sitting room where all the remaining presents sat unopened, and Loki followed him. More to himself than Death, Loki said, “Or maybe the twenty-some-odd-thousand-year-old Jinni-god just has an attitude problem.”

Death quipped, “Don’t we all.” It was a comment and not a question. He sat down in his arm chair and immediately lit another cigarette.

“Well, you could imagine why his might be different,” Loki suggested.

“Yes. I can imagine.”

Loki observed the tree while sitting down on the leather couch, “There are still a lot of presents.”

“I only gave him one. I wasn’t sure he could handle the rest.” Thanatos too glanced at the several dozen presents under the tree.

“Well, it’s best to take it slow. Don’t want to overwhelm the boy.” Loki smiled politely.

Death scoffed. “Just look at what the bear did...”

“The bear?”

“I gave him a teddy bear as a present.” He laughed at himself, “Like an idiot.”

Loki shrugged, taking off his gloves. “I think it’s sweet.”

Thanatos glared at him.

Loki leaned forward. “You can be sweet. Get over it.”

Death let out a low hiss and looked away.

“Speaking of,” Loki began, “Eros and I got you a little something.”

“Like what? A parenting book?”

“No. We did look for one. Though, they don’t make parenting books for your particular situation.”

“Ah!”

Loki pulled from his breast pocket a long velvet gift box. He slid it across the coffee table.

Thanatos grimaced at it for a moment before bending to receive it. He opened it and saw a single paint brush with a thick wooden handle and dark bristles.

“It’s the magick brush of Ma Liang. Eros found it in one of my warehouses...”

He watched Death admire the brush with childlike wonder.

“... and he says you paint?”

Death’s eyes bolted up to Loki. All fascination had vacated his mismatched eyes, and nothing remained in his gaze but the threat of death.

“I thought he was joking, but he said,” Loki paused, “you used to paint.”

Death returned the brush to the box and snapped it shut. “I don’t. Your husband is mistaken.”

Loki’s eyes squinted, and he made a series of facial expressions before he corrected Thanatos. ”Boyfriend. You said husband.”

Death snorted. “You both might as well get on with it. Everyone expects it.”

“Actually, his family expects him to use me for my money and make out like a bandit, while my family expects me only to keep him around until my ends are met.”

“There. Doesn’t that sound like almost every other married couple?”

Loki clicked his tongue. “You and your distorted view of love.”

“Do you love him?” Death didn’t miss a beat.

Loki’s mouth opened to answer, but no sound came out.

Thanatos’s eyes pried on until Loki cleared his throat, and in a small voice replied, “Yes.”

“Then I’ll pay for the wedding.”

Loki guffawed, “Wedding? Thanatos, I haven’t even thought of proposing.”

“Like I said, you might as well get it over with... and don’t tell him I’m paying for it.”

Loki thought, “Even if I did propose, I doubt we’d do a wedding ceremony, given, again, what our families think of us.”

“If they think that, don’t invite them. And it’s the least I can do after-”

“We’re over that. It had to be done. You said so yourself.”

Death stood and put out his cigarette. “Leave before I change my mind.” He struck out his hand. “Happy Yule.”

Loki took a moment to stand, evaluating whether or not arguing with him on this point was worth it. But, he stood, and they grasped each other’s forearms. “Happy Yule. See you at the ball.” And Loki turned to leave the mansion.

When he exited the front door of Death’s winter wonderland mansion, he did not walk into the whipping wind and snow, but rather he strode in his townhome. He walked up the stairs and into the office where the windows had been turned into French doors, opening to a balcony overlooking a magickal illusion of the Caribbean Sea.

Eros was reclined in a chair, bathed in equatorial sunlight. His eyes were hidden behind dark shades, his button down was open, flapping in the gentle breeze, revealing his bare chest, but he still wore his dress slacks.

Loki leaned in the door frame. “How is your solstice?”

Eros’s lips turned up into a smile. “Perfect.” He breathed in the briny air. In a far less dreamy tone, he asked, “How was Death?”

Loki clicked his tongue. “He says he doesn’t paint.”

“Bullocks.” Eros reached over to the table on his right and took up the fruity yellow drink with an umbrella sticking out of it. He took a sip and said, “He paints.”

Loki crouched down next to him. “And Damien is... I don’t know.”

“We probably won’t know for a while, I’m afraid.” He lifted up his shades to examine Loki’s face better.

Loki knew this trick and kept his face from showing any emotion or desire so that Eros couldn’t read him. But, Eros already knew that trick and glared.

“What’s wrong?”

Loki rolled his eyes in defeat. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just... How are you, really?”

Eros huffed and sat up, bringing his knees to his chest. “I’m fine for, you know, discovering an ocean of repressed memories of Thanatos and Hypnos aiding the efforts to imprison me in Tartarus. I’m fine.”

“And also aiding and abetting your escape, and ensuring that you didn’t get reimprisoned.” Loki added.

“Yes, and that. I’m fine. I am adjusting to being on probation, despite the fact I bested the Fates,” he said with seething resentment. His bitterness fell flat, and he pouted, “I want to travel and swim in the real Caribbean.”

“Right. But, you didn’t go back to Tartarus,” Loki offered as a silver lining. “I, also, didn’t go to Tartarus, and they’re gone for now. And at least you can still see the different worlds... through the window.” He gestured back to the blue illusion beyond the balcony. But, then, he added in a snarling voice, in spite of the pleasant smile on his face. ”You’re fine.” Still crouched next to Eros, he jumped to his feet.

“Well...” Eros said, unsure how to proceed with Loki’s fluctuating demeanor. He scrutinized the tones of Loki’s voice and his microexpressions. “It’s better for having met you. I really am fine given the circumstances. I’m just... taking a hiatus. Trying to reconcile. I need to get back on my feet the right way.”

“You’ll only be on probation for another nine hundred years, so take all the time you need.” Loki flourished a hand.

Eros stitched his brow. “I feel like you’re trying to make a point, but through all your many layers of sarcasm, I can’t see it.”

Loki took a breath, then, “I’m frustrated for you,” he began in earnest. “I know this is hard, and I wish there was more I could do, aside from making fake oceans and mimosas.”

Eros reached out a hand and gave Loki a doll-eyed look. “But you’re so good at making them.”

The giant slumped. “Fine. Do you want another drink?”

“Yes, please.” Eros smiled.

Loki reached around to grab Eros’s half-empty glass, and he made to exit the balcony.

“Oh, and darling!” Eros called.

Loki looked back as Eros was lowering his shades and reclining into the chair.

“I know that wasn’t why you were upset, but I’ll let you have it because it’s Yule... and because I love you too.”

Loki scowled at the smile creeping onto Eros’s lips.

Eros was the Love god. Eros might not have heard Loki’s full, awkward conversation with Death, but Eros had felt it when Loki had admitted to his best friend that he, Loki, was indeed in love with Eros.

Loki chewed on his lip and nodded for a scheming moment before grinning.

Loki knew that Eros had no way of knowing the entire conversation he had just had with Death and would have been in quite a different mood if he had.

“Good. Right. Well then, I’ll let Thanatos know you are more than happy to let him pay for the wedding.”

Eros bolted up, ripping away his shades, ”What?” But, Loki had already sauntered off into the office.

"Loki! What wedding?”