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1) The Mall
Arya turned over the snowglobe to look at the price and immediately put it back. Yeesh. How hard was it to find a gift that was cheap but didn’t look cheap?
The speaker crackled, and suddenly a saccharine voice announced, “Last chance to take a picture with Santa! Santa and his elves will be leaving in thirty minutes….”
Sansa yelped and Arya nearly jumped when her sister grabbed her wrist, hard. “Arya, come on!”
“What?!” Arya said, already running with her to the door.
“We gotta go!” Sansa said over her shoulder as she skidded around the corner.
She stopped and stared at the line in the center of the mall, and then hustled to the end and cut off a lady with two small children to do it.
“Yikes,” Arya said, as she side stepped around the glaring woman. “Sansa, whaddya get?”
Sansa looked at her, confused. “What?”
“What did you steal?” Arya clarified. The woman behind them went from angry to
horrified.
“Nothing, Arya—jeez, nothing,” she said, looking behind them at the woman, who had
taken her kids and swiftly walked away.
“Seriously?! I thought we were booking it because—”
“No! I can’t believe you thought that!”
“I was with you, no questions…”
“No, no, no. We’ve got to make it before Santa leaves.”
Arya took a step back and studied her sister’s face. “Now I have questions.”
“It’s Christmas, Arya! We’ve got to have our picture with Santa!”
A different family had now joined in behind them and the children were pushing against Arya in their eagerness to get to Santa. She discreetly kicked them while still examining Sansa’s blinking rate to determine for mental stability. “Children get their picture with Santa. I’m seventeen. You’re nineteen.”
Sansa huffed and rocked back on her heels. Then the people in front of them moved forward, and she quickly jumped up to take their place.
“Seriously, Sansa, this is lame. Let’s go,” Arya said, already angling out of the line.
Sansa grabbed Arya’s jacket sleeve. “Please?” she said, in the same tone that had won them Guitar Hero from their parents so many years ago. “Just hear me out?”
“Fine,” Arya ground out while taking another step forward with her. The mall was closing in half an hour anyway.
“What does Christmas mean to you, Arya?” Sansa said while standing on her tiptoes to
see the rest of the line.
Arya snorted. “If you want a Christmas card about ‘joy and cheer for all you hold dear’ then the Hallmark store is—”
“No, no, no,” Sansa said with frustration. “Like, what do you have to have to make it a Christmas? Make it really feel like Christmas?”
The question brought Arya up short. They shuffled forward in silence as tinny Christmas carols warbled through the store and children jumped in place in front of them, thrilled to see Santa.
“That’s a good question,” Arya finally drew out. “It’s been a while since it felt like a real Christmas.”
“It has,” Sansa agreed, and the two of them remained silent for the next ten feet.
The last few Christmases felt flat, the kind of half-hearted, disillusioned celebration that would normally be chalked up to the simple process of growing up. But the Stark sisters hadn’t grown up, they had been held hostage by reality and waterboarded.
“Before Mom and Dad died,” Arya finally supplied. And then Robb…and Rickon….and Bran’s accident, and Jon’s deployment…..
It had been a long time since Christmas had been anything more than a season of songs on the radio.
Sansa let out a long breath. “Right,” she said in a low voice. “And what made Christmas for us then?”
Arya pondered that as they moved forward in line. Her mother’s elegant dinners that her dad never wanted to attend but always did. Arguing in the car on the way to church. Playing family board games on Christmas Day.
A lot of things she would never have again.
“Hot chocolate with cloves,” Sansa said haltingly after a pause. “The way Mom used to make it.” She looked at Arya hesitatingly and Arya’s heart hurt and swooped at the same time at the thought. “And the board games. And buying presents at the Christmas market. And that really terrible singer that Dad used to love and played really loudly—”
“Hamish the Harper!” Arya exclaimed loudly, remembering her dad turning it on while he made breakfast.
“Yes!” Sansa said and they giggled, remembering their dad and his offkey singing. Arya smiled and unconsciously stepped closer to Sansa as they moved forward again.
“And pictures with Santa,” Sansa finally said with a grin.
“Cause we were young,” Arya teased. Sansa nodded. “We were,” she affirmed. “But that was part of Christmas—so why not?”
Why not indeed? Arya wondered. Alright, so it was a little dumb. But it had been a part of every real Christmas she and Sansa had have, although her heart constricted—
“Is it right to have a Christmas photo without them?” she softly said. Sansa frowned and
sighed.
“I know,” she said, her voice just as low and sad. “I don’t want one—without them—but—I don’t want to not have Christmas again, either.”
Arya nodded, and then nodded again as the full weight of that thought settled into her. They couldn’t get Robb and Rickon and their mom and dad back—they didn’t even have the power to bring Jon back from Afghanistan or Bran from his special hospital in time for Christmas. But they could try to have Christmas all the same.
“Alright,” Arya said, slowly smiling at Sansa and Sansa returning a fragile, hopeful smile back. Sansa clutched her arm as the family in front of them ran up to Santa and she and Arya stood at the front of the line.
The elf dropped a “Closed” sign between the two candycane barriers.
“Dammit,” Sansa said.
2) The Library
“Where do you think it would be?” Sansa wondered as they walked through the doors.
“Children’s section, probably,” Arya said as they looked around.
Sure enough, a line of parents and small children was leading out of the brightly colored children’s area. Sansa and Arya joined the end and started to wait.
As the line moved, they walked past bookshelf after bookshelf and end table displays, and—
“Sansa! Look!”
Ser Galladon of Morne and the Magic Sword was propped up on display next to Ser Galladon of Morne and the Trickster of Tarth and, Arya’s personal favorite, Ser Galladon of Morne and the Dragon Dreadful, all on a cloud of cotton balls with candy canes lying about to take.
Sansa’s eyes glimmered and Arya’s view of her shimmered too as she remembered how Robb used to ask them to be read again and again until their Father gave up and ordered him to choose something else for a month.
“Can we get them?” Arya asked suddenly with a fervent burning hope.
“Of course,” Sansa said, her eyes still glued to the colorful picture of Ser Galladon with his foot on the snout of the dead dragon. “It’s a library, it’s for people to take things out.”
“But we usually go to the other one—I don’t have a card for here,” Arya said.
“Oh, just go to the circulation desk,” Sansa said, picking the book up and reading the back. “They’ll help you. It’s free.”
“Great,” Arya said, already hustling to the desk.
Arya turned in the blue card and the librarian frowned at the hasty scribble.
“Age?” she barked suddenly and Arya instinctively responded, “Seventeen,” and knew it was the wrong answer. The librarian thrust the card back at her, saying, “You need a parent or guardian to fill one out for you, young lady.”
Arya thought about arguing, but for once, obedience would get her what she wanted faster. She took a blank card over to Sansa who scurried over to the desk while continually glancing behind her at the dwindling line for Santa.
“Aaaaaaand…..done,” Sansa said, pushing it across the table at the librarian, who opened up desk drawers and pulled out official-looking stamps.
The fact that Sansa was hopping from one leg to the other while craning her neck behind her was huge—normally she would love the terribly serious process the woman was going through, authoritatively stamping the card and handing it over. Arya’s thoughts were further confirmed when Sansa signed her name instead of Arya’s, and in a rushed scrawl at that. Sansa had spent years perfecting a quill-pen-worthy signature and now the card had ‘Sansa Stark’ in a barely discernible blur.
“Okay,” Sansa said, handing it back to the lady and glancing behind her yet again. “Can we—”
Arya suddenly felt like she swallowed lead soup as Santa waved genially and whispered, “Ho ho ho!” as he strode out the library doors. She turned her eyes to Sansa, waiting for a disappointed look and already feeling guilty.
Sansa paused, turned to the librarian, and asked, “Would he be coming back? By any chance?”
“No,” the librarian said, already reorganizing the latest stack of returned books on the desk.
“Great, thanks,” Sansa said without a hint of sarcasm. “That will give us more time to browse,” she said while turning to Arya. “The third one says ‘sequel coming soon’,” she whispered conspiratorially. “And the publication date was 2014. Do you think we could find the fourth one?”
When it came time for checkout, Sansa was bemusedly carrying several audiobooks of Ser Galladon and his many adventures.
“Trust me on this,” Arya said as she used the card. “Gendry, Hot Pie and I do this all the time.”
“Check out children’s books?” Sansa teased. “Sounds about their reading level.”
“No!” Arya said, smacking her sister’s arm and pretending to be offended. “Listen to audiobooks!”
“Ah,” Sansa said wisely under her breath as the same librarian checked the books out.
“Because they can’t read. Period.”
Arya smacked her again and pretended to pout instead of laugh but eventually gave in.
They settled under the Christmas tree and Sansa gave Arya a mug of hot chocolate, the smell of cloves spicy in the air. Arya gave Sansa a carefully wrapped box with jingle bells tied into the bow. Sansa shook it vigorously to make the jingle bells ring and they giggled.
“Open it,” Arya said, carefully sipping her mug. Sansa ripped open the paper with enthusiasm and then looked at Arya questioningly. “A puzzle?”
“Yeah,” Arya said, motioning for the box. Sansa handed it over and Arya opened it up and summarily dumped it on the floor. She leaned over to turn the CD player on, which clicked and whirred before announcing in a deep tone, “Ser Galladon of Morne and the Magic Sword, by Brienne Blue. Chapter One: The Quest’s Beginning. Galladon woke up and immediately leaped out of bed. The sun was rising, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and he knew it was a day for adventure….”
Arya smiled as she settled down on her stomach. “We put an audiobook on,” she said while looking up at Sansa, “and then we work a puzzle in the meantime.” Sansa leaned over her to pick up an edge piece.
“Okay,” she said with a small smile. “It’s a bit tough to play board games with just two,” she admitted. “Exactly,” Arya said, relieved that Sansa understood precisely where she was going. “But this….this, we can do.”
Sansa hummed as she lowered herself down to the floor too. “Smart thinking, Arya,” she said before bumping shoulders with her. “How many pieces is this?”
“Enough to listen to the whole series.”
“Sounds good.”
3) Ice Rink
Arya had suggested coming early to beat the lines. Sansa had beaten her to the cash register.
“Skates for two, please,” she said and Arya scowled good-naturedly. “You didn’t have to,” she said. “Merry Christmas,” Sansa grinned.
The poor desk boy wasn’t ready for them and tried to foist the worn-down, mismatched pairs they knew the staff tried to get rid of early. “Oh no,” Sansa said. “Size 6 and size 8, women’s, extra padding, and give Coach Forel my regards.”
The boy started. “Coach Forel?” he said, glancing between the two girls.
“This is his star student,” Sansa said, with a flourish at Arya who looked appropriately smug.
The boy fumbled under the counter and was suddenly able to find two pairs of skates in their size. Sansa thanked them and with a flip of her hair they left.
“Star student on hiatus,” Arya muttered as they laced up their skates.
“Everyone’s entitled to a break, Arya,” Sansa said as she worked her fingers into the sides of the shoes and straightened her tights. “Even child prodigies like you.”
Arya blushed and fussed with her coat. Sansa was no mean skater either, not with their dad’s training growing up. But hockey….
“Hockey was your life, and although it doesn’t have to be now, it doesn’t mean you can’t show off your mad skillz in front of all these noobs,” Sansa said with the same delicate inflection one would use to address the queen.
Arya snorted. “Did Jojen teach you that?” Sansa’s nose went farther in the air and she blinked dramatically.
“I too spend my time pwning these noobs on Fortnite,” she said regally while they stilt-walked over to the rink. “Jojen and I have proved highly victorious although I fear he will always be a noob….”
Arya laughed harder than she had in ages and then whooped when the cold air broke over them past the double doors. She hurried to the edge and then—
She was flying.
It was a good ten minutes before she was able to register that Sansa was doing neat figure eights in the corner, slowly reestablishing each skill before moving on to the next one. Arya skated over and Sansa looked up.
“Having fun?” she said, slowly skating backward with a grin.
“Oh yes,” Arya said as she skated forward at twice the speed. “Are you?” She took Sansa’s arm and spun her around, despite her delighted screams.
Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree came on and they looked at each other.
“Do you still remember that awful routine you and Margaery came up with?” Arya asked as Sansa burst into giggles.
“It was inspired,” she maintained before giggling again. “Oh, it was awful.” Arya scooted back and started moving her arms in the dramatic circles the girls had done for their parents. “Rockin’ around…the Christmas tree…have a happy holiday…”
The two girls were laughing and skating for hours until the rink closed.
As the desk boy nervously ushered them off the ice, Arya suddenly realized something was missing. “Hey! Where’s Santa?”
The boy trembled. “He left just a few minutes ago…?”
The girls looked at each other. “We didn’t see him here!” Sansa argued.
The boy backed away towards the skate rental. “They had pictures in the lobby…” he managed to say before ducking behind the desk.
Oh. The girls looked at each other. That made a lot of sense.
They turned in their skates and Arya treated to Chick-fil-a peppermint milkshakes on the way home.
“Christmas in a cup!” Sansa cried as she sipped, ignoring the horns blaring as she drove ten miles under the speed limit.
Arya flipped them off while slurping again. “Christmas in a cup,” she agreed.
4) Christmas Market
Arya and Sansa were at the Christmas market. Santa was at the Christmas market. Santa, unfortunately, was on the top of a fire truck at the Christmas market at the front of the parade.
“Do you think if we asked someone to take a picture fast enough….?” Sansa wondered.
Arya looked around. “Nah, too crowded,” she said glumly.
It was true. The crowd was pressing in on the girls and they could barely move an inch, let alone turn around and ask a stranger to take a picture.
“Well, there’s always Christmas shopping,” Sansa said slowly, obviously warming up to the idea.
Arya rolled her eyes but nudged Sansa towards the booths. “Let’s go then, and maybe we’ll be back home by tomorrow,” she said.
The girls wandered around and looked at all the booths. They gawked at the fire-eaters and laughed at the mummer’s play of Florian and Jonquil, caved in for sweets at the baker’s stand (cinnamon twists for Arya and marzipan for Sansa) and finally separated near the end with the promise to meet by the car in an hour.
Arya picked herself up the handmade knife she had been eyeing as a Christmas gift to herself and then dawdled long enough that she knew she wouldn’t run into Sansa at the leatherworking booth. She picked up the pretty leather hair barrette that Sansa had looked at, paid for it, and included a nice tip. She shivered as she put it in her pocket, resplendent with a warm feeling that had been a long time in coming. She hurried to make it to the car, the thrill of the surprise present egging her on. She couldn’t wait for Sansa to unwrap it at Christmas.
5) The “Neighborhood Function”
They pulled up to the community clubhouse and Arya grabbed the presents. They weren’t sure if the event had a Secret Santa—Old Nan couldn’t remember—but she was certain that someone had told her they’d be dressing as Santa would be there.
There were maybe ten cars in the parking lot, which was good. Front of the line, picture, then back at home to finish the puzzle. They had made Christmas cookies earlier in the day, too, so Arya couldn’t wait to return.
The community center was…..decorated, if she wanted to be charitable and call it that. Tattered tinsel was strung across the backs of chairs and arranged in clumps around a punch bowl. A few people were awkwardly talking in pairs and there wasn’t a child to be seen.
Arya looked around. “Where’s the kids? Where’s Santa?”
Sansa put their coats over the back of a chair, staring distastefully at the ratty tinsel that had dropped to the floor. “I’m sure they’re coming. It’s a local event, it probably doesn’t have the pull as something fancy at the mall, we should have brought cookies and invited our neighbors to get to know each other better and invest in a community-building event—”
White gloves clapped the Stark sisters on the shoulders. “Laaayyydeeeeez,” Theon said with a hiccup. “How you doin’?” He leaned up against Sansa with a leer. Sansa slowly took in Theon’s shabby red suit and crooked hat.
“Theon….” She said faintly. “I didn’t know you were here,” she said while delicately removing his hand off her shoulder.
“I didnnn know you war sssssiiiiingle,” Theon said jubilantly, patting her on the shoulder again. “I woolda fixed that loooooong agoooooo!”
Arya hissed at him and jabbed him in the side. “Knock it off, Theon,” she said brusquely and Sansa looked at her in thanks. Theon looked at her in confusion.
“I thought you war datin Gendry, Arrrrrya,” he slurred, looking around for her boyfriend. “Oh!” he whispered louder than Arya could shout. “Didja just break up? Sorrrrrryyyyyyy….”
Arya would have punched him had he not seemed so dolefully sincere.
“Not your business, Theon,” Arya ground out. Theon wobbled then leaned on her instead, breathing rum into her face.
“Sshhuure, babe, but a singles’ mixer means two things.” He stopped, thought, and restarted. “You’re siiiingle,” he said with a meaningful glare at Arya, “and you wanna mix,” he said with an attempted wink at Sansa. It would have worked better with one eye, or at least both at the same time.
“Uh, no, Theon, that’s not why we’re here,” Sansa said while trying again to get Theon’s arm away from her shoulders.
“Whaaaaat?” Theon burped. “Then whyyyy are you here?”
“We wanted a picture…with Santa,” Sansa winced.
“Babe,” Theon proclaimed loudly. “You can sit on my lap…..anytime……!”
Arya gagged while Sansa wrinkled her nose; they each pushed off Theon’s arm and ran to the car while he collapsed on the floor.
+1 The Hospital
Arya was still laughing about it days later when they were running an errand for Sam. “Heeeey Sansssssaaaaa,” she said in a dopey voice. “Why don’t we turn on the tuuuunes and get cooooozyyyyyy…..” she said dropping her voice in an oily way as she fiddled with the radio in the truck. Sansa squealed and threw her hands up in front of her face, laughing. “Stop, stop! Ugh, it was so gross!” she shrieked. The girls howled with laughter at every red light, even while pulling into the hospital parking lot. As they inched forward in the snowy lot, Sansa searching the rows for a spot, Arya bolted upright in her seat.
“SANSA, IT’S SANTA!” she yelled. Sansa whipped her head around. There he was—red suit, white beard, red hat and all, just standing on the front steps of the hospital, waiting for them.
“Thanks so much for coming guys,” Sam said breathily, jumping down the stairs to their truck. “I appreciate it so much,” he said while trying to shift the huge white bag out of their truck bed.
Arya hopped out immediately and helped him get it over the sides. “Is that…is that….” She said, spluttering. Sansa was wide-eyed at the wheel.
“Fake beard? Yeah, Grenn made it,” he said, fiddling with the ties of the bag. “He and Pip couldn’t make it tonight, but he got me a nice beard last week from the costume shop to compensate. The one last year was so itchy,” he said, screwing up his face while remembering.
“Pip and Grenn?” Sansa said as Arya’s jaw was still on the ground. Sam was the perfectSanta. His cheeks were red with cold as they stood in the parking lot in front of the hospital, he patted his belly absentmindedly as they talked and his eyes were bright, looking between the sisters bashfully. “My elves,” he said. “We always pass out presents to the children who are here at bedtime on Christmas Eve, it’s my favorite day of the year.” He beamed at them and Arya swore the icicles melted off the hospital stair railings.
Arya and Sansa looked at each other.
“Let me park the car,” Sansa said.
They got hot chocolate from the doctors’ lounge at the end of their rounds. Sam had stopped with each child and talked with them, and it hadn’t surprised the girls a bit that he knew everyone’s names.
“From their records,” he said, spooning the dry mix into three mugs.
Arya shook her head. “Not many people remember names and faces, Sam. It makes you a good doctor but also a great Santa.” Sam blushed and turned back towards the hot chocolate, and Sansa rooted around in the cupboards for napkins.
Arya tugged her jingly hat off and tiredly pulled her phone out of her bag. Her eyes widened.
“Sansa!” she yelled. Sansa whirled around and Sam dropped the spoon with a clatter. Arya held the phone up. A bold white 11:59 was lit up over a screensaver of her, Gendry and Hot Pie on a rollercoaster.
Sansa gave a little shriek and dropped the napkins on the desk. Sam looked between them both with frightened concern, asking, “Is everything alri—”
Arya was throwing her hat back on and Sansa was straightening their striped bowties. “Stay right there, Sam!” she yelled.
Sam looked utterly confused. “Wha—”
Arya ran around him and squeezed in on his left. Sansa put her hand up and expertly tilted the camera for the best lighting. Sam continued to splutter as she adjusted the camera, two girls grinning wildly besides a surprised Santa.
“Merry Christmas, Arya,” Sansa said tenderly.
“Merry Christmas, Sansa,” Arya replied with a waver in her voice.
“Oh,” Sam said suddenly. “Oh, you want a picture with me? As Santa? Really?” He beamed, and the clock in the hallway started to chime, twelve high peals of Christmas bells. Arya’s heart was about to burst when the camera snapped.
Epilogue
When they finally made it home that night after dropping Sam off, Arya and Sansa went straight to bed.
“Remember when we used to want to open presents right after midnight?” Arya said with a wince as they climbed up the stairs.
“Remember when Rob actually woke up Mom and Dad right after midnight to do it?” Sansa asked with a matching grimace.
“Let’s sleep in,” Arya said, yawning. “Preferably ridiculously late.”
“Mom and Dad knew exactly what was up,” Sansa said while stretching. “Promise not to open gifts without me?”
“Promise,” Arya said while heading into her bedroom and flopping on her bed.
The next morning—or rather, afternoon—found the Stark sisters in their pajamas around the tree. There were a few gifts from their friends and Arya could already guess that the gingerbread wrapped present was probably from Hot Pie. As excited as she was to open Hot Pie’s and Gendry’s, though, she wanted to watch Sansa open up her hair barrette more.
“Here, Arya,” her sister said while handing over a beautiful silver present with a golden bow. Classic. She grinned and carefully unwrapped it piece by piece, gently untucking each fold in the paper and smoothing it out.
Partially because she knew her sister liked to keep the paper.
And partially because it drove her absolutely mad.
Sansa was bouncing on her knees when Arya finally unveiled an old-time compass on a brass chain. “Wow,” she breathed in awe.
“Turn it over!” Sansa said with excitement.
To Arya, intrepid explorer, it read, who will find as much adventure as she wants and still find her way home.
Arya teared up and suddenly crushed Sansa in a hug. Sansa laughed and hugged her back.
“Do you remember the stall?” she asked into the crown of Arya’s hair. “At the Christmas market?” Arya nodded against Sansa’s neck. Finally sitting up, she rummaged for Sansa’s gift under the tree.
She presented Sansa with the blue package and red ribbon, and tried not to laugh as Sansa immediately ripped the package open. “Arya!” she shrieked in surprise. “I love it!” Arya beamed as Sansa hugged her and immediately ran to the hall mirror to put it in her hair.
Arya leaned back and felt the floor buzz. Leaping up, she rustled in the paper for her phone. “Sansa!” She called. “Jon’s calling!”
Sansa immediately ran back, barrette crooked in her hair. “And?” she said, jumping onto the couch. Arya joined her there and pressed “accept”.
“And?” Arya asked.
Her phone buzzed again. Superman Bran.
Arya gasped and Sansa giggled. “Jon, she loves your present!”
“Oh good,” a grainy version of Jon’s voice said. “Conference calls are too often used for evil, like neverending meetings. I figured we could give it some Christmas cheer.”
“Bran? Jon?” Arya asked incredulously.
“Arya,” Bran’s voice came in clearly over the phone. “How are you? Sansa? Are you there?”
“We’re all here, Bran,” Sansa said, cuddling into Arya’s side. “And after we catch up, we have some stories for you….”