The Art Of Christmas

Dear Mario!

I know you told me not to write, and I know Master Hand has confirmed that you'd be back before the letter would even arrive— but my hand has developed a life of its own, and there's nothing I can do as it's dragging the pen across the paper.

I also know that I said I don't know what Christmas, what the fuss is all about, and truth be told, I still don't. Everyone's in such a festive mood, bustling about and decorating the Mansion with lametta, garlands with little lights, candles, fake snow and so much more. You've seen it before, yes, but I wish you could see it now too. Why do they need fake snow inside of the house? Shouldn't it be enough that there was a blizzard that covered the entire park with the freezing white mass, that you shiver by just glimpsing out of the window? Shouldn't they be satisfied with that?

Don't get me started about the lametta. I don't know who invented it, but he or she should be ashamed of the invention, because these colourful strips absolutely refuse to stay fixed to the walls or to whatever they've been attached to, and they aimlessly float through the air. And if they do decide to fall down, they land in my coffee (just like the fake snow, actually), and frankly, their texture is rather repulsive to the touch, which is why —and it's good you'll never read this, because you'd just call me lavish again— I had to toss the beverage down the sink. But I couldn't drink it with the fake snow now, could I?

And the candles. Why do they need them? There are thousands of them, Mario, literally thousands— okay, maybe not 'literally'. (I haven't forgotten how you told me to use that word with deliberation). But you can take my word that there are hundreds, that I am sure of. Red and golden and green, and this year they are tall, and by that I mean that Charizard has to light them. And they are positioned along the walls of every hallway; there are so many that the lamps don't need to be turned on anymore. And I'm not talking about the hallways only, mind you, I'm also talking about the ballroom (Luigi had to replace the ceiling light with a chandelier so huge that no one dares stepping underneath it), the dining hall and the living rooms, which are so full of little red and golden candles that the air's gotten quite stifling, and the wax is partially dropping down to the floor already. Which would be quite convenient, were I to actually finish this letter and send it to you, in which case I could seal it with some candle wax. The red one.

But— this letter, like the five previous ones, will probably end up in the bin, crumpled or torn apart so that the words will be beyond recognition. I miss you, Mario. You keep me sane when the holiday season comes around, and I wish this were the case now. Because I can't deny that the whole ambience, this crazed bustling, is rubbing off on me.

Yes, that's right. You can count yourself lucky that you've managed to escape this madhouse, because when I say it's rubbing off on me, I don't mean the pleasant anticipation kind of rubbing off.

I must confess, I just left the room to briefly get something from the kitchen (yes, tea), but then I spotted Zelda in the ballroom, who —surprise, surprise— is coordinating everything. I didn't really care about the ceremony. But she's my best friend. And she looked so incredibly stressed out that I did what any best friend would have done: I asked her what I could do to help. Bad idea.

Now, it's no secret that I've got a knack for organisation, no one knows that better than you. So dear Zelda asked me to help her with overseeing the preparations. No problem, I figured that would be an easy task.

Problem.

How this woman has managed not to fall from her feet yet is a mystery to me.

"No, I'm perfect. Don't worry about me."

"Are you sure? Look, I can help with more than just that. I can go check whether some candles have gone out, I can oversee the food production, you know, I can even taste it, and I know what good food tastes like. I can do anything. Well, maybe keep me away from the lametta and the fake snow, but I've noticed that we don't even have a Christmas tree. There has to be a Christmas tree, right?"

"Hm?" Zelda looked up from her clipboard. Her ears were erect and highly red, a telltale sign for stress.

Peach shrugged. "There has to be more for me to do."

Her friend opened her mouth, thinking for a moment. "I… I appreciate the offer, really. But I know how you're not really a Christmas person… What I want to say is that it's absolutely fine if you just want to go back to your room and relax. I don't want you to feel like you're being pressured into this insanity."

"But I want to help you, Zelda! Really, it's fine," Peach insisted. No less than two dozen pages were attached to the Hylian princess' clipboard, and it was basically impossible that there was nothing or no one in the Mansion that wasn't running smoothly. "What if Charizard has already burned a curtain? What if Kirby has put too much salt in the soup?"

"There's not going to be any soup," Zelda said. Peach sent her friend a scolding look. "Okay, okay, I'll see what you can do." And thus, the brunette began flipping through her pages and checking her notes. "Well I've got to say, some help would certainly be welcome; I'm fully stretched, and there's still so much to do until the evening. Alright, so… Do you think you could check whether the bathrooms in the western wing are still intact? Robin mentioned something about—"

The Mushroom princess' face turned even more sour.

"Right, I'll better send Luigi." Zelda turned back to the clipboard. "No, no, trivial, no— ah, you can go to—"

A violent shower of fake snow abruptly interrupted her, covering both princesses in sticky white powder. The girls could do nothing but stand there for a few moments, mouths open in shock. "Whoops," someone flatly said from above, and the voice was accompanied by a few last stray snowflakes and the sound of flapping wings.

Was it a bird? Was it Santa Claus in his flying sleigh?

None of the above. As Peach looked up, slowly as to keep her composure, she merely spotted Meta Knight with a flaccid burlap sack that had previously been filled with the snowy powder that was now all over the room. "My apologies, ladies," he stated, his voice as emotionless as his mask, "I briefly lost balance there. I shall be more careful next time." And thus he floated away, paying the two princesses no more attention.

"There will be no next time," Zelda yelled after him, shaking herself like a dog and freeing herself of the gluey powder. "Curse that guy," she then muttered and began to wipe away the snow from her clipboard, "such a lazy bum, he was supposed to move all the sacks to the dining hall, and there's a dozen of them but I've only seen him fly by thrice in this past hour. Really, it's not that hard." The Hylian grunted in frustration and checked something off on her list. Peach wondered whether it was such a good idea to scatter the fake snow in the dining hall, of all things. She bet that in the end, the delicious Christmas meal would end up decorated with white powder in one way or another. "So, as I was saying—"

"Princess! Princess!" someone yelled, and both girls immediately turned around at the sound of that word. It was a voice Peach couldn't immediately place, and indeed, as she saw to whom it belonged, she knew why: Little Mac came running towards them, one of the newcomers. She didn't know him that well, but usually he seemed rather cool-headed; now he appeared to be quite jumpy. He came to a halt in front of them, red-cheeked and agitated. "Princess Zelda," he clarified. "We have a situation!"

Zelda sighed. "What is it?"

"The choir. Dedede insists on being in the front row."

"What?! We already discussed this! Oh, that selfish, fat—"

"Hey, Zel, why don't you let me take care of this, hm?" Peach rapidly broke in before her friend could say something a princess truly shouldn't say, especially not about a king (no matter how selfish and fat that king might be). "I'm sure I can handle it, and you can just take care of… everything else." She vaguely gestured around the room. There was a lot to do here.

Her friend briefly checked her clipboard, then sighed. "Okay, you go check on the choir then. Try to be diplomatic."

"Don't you worry. So what do you want me to do?"

Still staring at the clipboard, Zelda narrowed her eyes. "Get that avian to stay in the last row. And do not let him sing. Good luck."

Three minutes later both the boxer and the Mushroom Princess who'd followed him were standing in front of the choir and listening to their carols. When Peach checked who was part of the choir, she was briefly confused not to spot Jigglypuff, but then she remembered that making her sing (and she sang beautifully) ran the risk of everyone falling asleep. Indeed, Dedede insisting to be in the first row was indeed problematic, since due to his massiveness, he covered all the kids and smaller Smashers— but he was not the main reason why Peach was furrowing her brow.

Although Pit was (literally) an angel, his voice was anything but angelic. The second he began to sing, Peach understood that the weird noises she'd heard while writing her letter had not belonged to a wounded Pokémon.

"Deck the halls with boughs of holly

Fa la la la la la la la la

'Tis the season to be jolly—"

"Look how he's thrusting himself forward," Little Mac whispered to Peach, "but he's supposed to be the walking gingerbread house, and the gingerbread house is always in the back."

"Not only that, he's already eaten half of his costume," Peach whispered back. Which wouldn't be that much of a problem if Dedede would just stay in the back row like he was supposed to. "But whose idea was it to give Pit the lead?"

Little Mac shrugged. "I'm not sure, I think he and Dedede were the only ones who volunteered, and we needed a tenor for the lead."

"That's not a tenor, that's a tumor," another male voice said. Both Peach and Little Mac spun around to behold Captain Falcon, who stood there with crossed arms and a very confused expression on his face.

"Shush!" Peach slapped him on the arm. "Don't say that out loud! He could hear you."

"But he sounds like he's in agony," the racer argued, "and someone's got to break it to him, better sooner than later!"

"But not you," she hissed and pushed him away. "Now go and clean your car or whatever you're supposed to do, come on." The Captain shrugged and did as he was told. Peach turned back to Little Mac and the choir. "Okay, everyone stop singing," she proclaimed, loud enough to drown out Pit's awkward wailing. "And you, Dedede, stop eating your costume! Now!"

The choir stopped singing and twelve pairs of eyes all at once stared at Peach— eleven confused ones, and one sulky pair. "What is it?" Nana piped up. She was not more than a voice behind the mobile gingerbread house standing in the first row.

"Well, you sound a little… off-key."

Link scratched his head. "Off-key? Shulk, check your guitar," he instructed the newcomer and started inspecting his own lute, while Toon Link reached for his ocarina. The two Hylians were, as usually, clad in green. However now their outfits were embellished with white, fluffy cotton, and they were sporting bobble caps. Their cheeks and tips of their ears were of a bright, and unlike Zelda's, very unnatural red. And as they were tuning their instruments, and Peach, intrigued, took a closer look, she noticed that the redness on their faces looked a lot like make-up. "Guys, what are you supposed to be?"

"They're elves," Greninja clarified and stole a candy from Dedede's edible outfit, "Santa's Helping Elves, more precisely. Never heard a Christmas story in your youth?"

Explaining that where she came from no one celebrated Christmas would be pointless— Peach had done so many times before, and yet she was met with disbelief each time Christmas came around, again and again. She was skilled in ignoring those little jabs.

Link spoke before she could think of an intelligent comeback. "Oh, she has, Greninja, it's not her first winter here. Is it the costumes, Peach? Did you not recognise the traditional attire?"

What traditional attire? Peach had no idea what kind of clothes Santa's Helping Elves used to wear during the Christmas season, on their days off or anytime for that matter.

"Don't criticise the costumes," Little Mac suddenly heatedly murmured into her ear, "Marth made them."

"No, they're excellent! Now that you say it, I can totally tell you're elves", the Mushroom Princess was quick to assure. "Santa's Helping Elves," she added, and Greninja nodded. "I mean… Yeah, with the bobble cap, and the ears and the… make-up, yes, you two are the obvious choice. I guess it's my fault for not being familiar with… Christmas lore."

"Oh, don't you worry, Peach," Link laughed and got back to tuning his lute, "a few years more and you'll want to be a Helping Elf yourself!"

That was something Peach knew with certainty wouldn't happen, but if Marth were ever to ask her to put on one of his designs and pretend to be a Helping Elf, she would hardly refuse— simply because she liked peace in the Mansion. If one wanted to remain on good terms with the Altean Prince, one should not say a bad word about his designs. "But Marth didn't do your make-up, did he?"

Toon Link looked up. "No, that was Snake. It's supposed to look natural."

"Please, you guys look like you fell into a pot of molten crayola," Shulk snorted and plucked a few times on the strings of his guitar.

"Ey yo don't you say anything against my make-up skills, boy," Snake himself shouted from behind the piano, clearly enraged, "you ain't seen no one with such mad camouflage skills as me! Ever! That is a natural, rosy nude look, it's supposed to make ya feel dandy, said so on the damn box, you got that?"

"What?!" a woman yelled, and suddenly Dedede was pushed aside and awkwardly stumbled around in his bulky costume to regain balance. A few candies that had been glued to the gingerbread house fell to the ground, and Samus stomped to the front to plant herself in front of the piano. "Feelin' Dandy? You took my beauty kit!"

Snake stood up to face the bounty hunter at eye level and slammed his hands on the piano keys, creating an awful, cringe-worthy sound. If the piano hadn't been in need of tuning before, it probably was now. "Well what was I supposed to do? Do you think I own a beauty kit with the colours necessary to create a natural, rosy nude look?"

"I told you to stay away from my bathroom!" Samus yelled and began ripping away candy from Dedede's costume to throw it at Snake, who tried to shield himself while furiously explaining exactly why that was something he would not do. Peach wasn't keen on knowing the details of Snake and Samus' very weird and clearly complicated relationship, and neither was the rest of the members of the choir, she assumed, given their big-eyed and open-mouthed faces as they watched the bounty hunter and the special agent verbally abuse each other in the middle of the music room.

Right before Samus could take Snake in a headlock, the two were pulled apart with the joint forces of Peach, Robin, Little Mac, and Lucina. "Enough, you two," the princess shouted, "it's Christmas! 'Tis the season of love and understanding, people! You shouldn't be fighting!"

"Well I know someone who's not getting any love tonight!" Samus screamed at Snake, making both Robin and Pit giggle, while Snake retorted with insults, winding himself in Lucina and Little Mac's arms.

"Guys, just shut up," Peach screamed and, with Robin's help, dragged Samus to the other side of the room. "You can bicker, or whatever it is you guys do when you're mad at each other, afterwards, is that clear? Sam, you stay here, Snake, get the heck back to the piano and for the love of god, Dedede, stop! Eating! Your! Costume!"

Peach began to understand why Zelda had wished her good luck. With a very sour face, King Dedede rammed the half devoured candy cane back into the gingerbread on his head, and after returning the princess' icy stare for a moment, he pouted but obediently stepped to where her finger was pointing: The last row.

They let go of Samus, who crossed her arms and, clearly offended, stared anywhere but in Snake's direction. But she willingly took the sheet of music Popo offered her, and soon Link announced that the instruments were tuned. The music started to play.

It was hard for Peach not to screw up her face at the sound of Pit's voice— in fact, she'd wondered how the others could look so undeterred, but now she noticed that Lucina flinched every time Pit hit a high note, and Shulk's brows were constantly furrowed. And it were not just the high notes, no, it was the entire song. The angel himself had a completely carefree smile on his face.

"Don we now our gay apparel

Fa la la la la la la la la!"

"Please tell me you can sing," Peach whispered to Little Mac, unable to hide the desperation in her voice.

He shook his head. "Sorry, I sound worse than him," he said, an apologising look on his face, while Pit merrily continued the assault on their ears.

"See the blazing Yule before us

Fa la la la la —"

"More like blazing Yune!" Oh, great, another interruption. The choir paused in the middle of the verse, and Peach could not keep herself from rolling her eyes as she turned around, already knowing exactly who to expect. Ike stood on the hall, a massive chainsaw on his shoulder and Kirby chewing on his leg. "For the Goddess of Chaos' sake, you people are making these noises?" His usually so unperturbed expression had given way to a unsettled one. "I guess I'm glad none of you seem to look like they're in pain."

Someone behind Peach gasped, which was followed by a brief choking sound. One less problem, then. Whether Ike's bluntness was tactful was really questionable; but it always came in handy.

"Why don't you take the mic and start singing, then?" she suggested.

Ike's face fell. He opened his mouth, thought for a second, closed it and bit his lip while Kirby rolled around his feet. Then he walked away with a confused expression and the pink creature in tow.

Peach turned back to face the awkward silence. Dedede had already another candy cane in his beak, Nana and Popo suddenly found the music sheets interesting enough to study them from up close, the musicians were awkwardly inspecting their instruments, while Samus was still unerringly staring down Snake from afar, and Robin and Lucina just stood there and sheepishly scratched their heads. Pit himself looked… confused.

"Well, looks like the cat's out of the sack, then," Peach declared and shrugged. What else could she do? "I'm so sorry, Pit, but he kind of had a point. The high notes do sound a little forced."

The angel sighed. "I know. I'm not the best singer." He rammed the microphone back in its bracket and raised his arms. "Look, I just volunteered to make the Lady Palutena proud, okay? No one wanted to take the lead, and she's really been looking forward to hearing the choir on Christmas eve, so I thought I'd give it a try. But I'm not deaf, people, I know I can't sing."

His confession was so cute that Peach placed a hand on her chest and had to restrain herself not to sob. How adorable that little man was— it warmed her heart. Even Samus looked a little touched, and Lucina was already being mocked by Robin for having reddened.

"But I don't understand why there has to be a lead. Aren't we all equal? That's what Christmas is about: Equality and love."

"And presents," Dedede quickly added. He was left ignored.

"So I don't know whose idea this was," Pit continued, "but let's sing together. We should all be in the spotlight. We should share the love and peace."

By now Lucina was snivelling, and Peach swore she saw Link blink away a few tears. Yes, that was definitely something she welcomed every time Christmas came around. No matter in how bad a mood or how nervous or stressed out a Smasher might be, it was hard to actually stay in a bad mood given how everyone was making an effort to spread the love and joy.

And while Samus wrapped her arms around Snake and gave him a soft kiss on his bearded cheek, and Shulk launched into a new song on his guitar and Dedede started humming (because his mouth was full), Peach leaned over to Little Mac. The boy nodded his head in time with the music and the choir's singing.

"Hey, Mac," she whispered.

"Hm?" He had a serene smile on his face.

"So if they're the Helping Elves and Dedede's a gingerbread house… Who's Santa?"

Yeah, guess who's Santa?

Yes, Dedede played that role last year, and I assumed he would do so this year as well, but no. A) He's the mobile gingerbread house (though by the evening he'll be more of a walking ruin). B) After last year's disaster I assume it's wise not to have a Santa who eats the candy he was supposed to share himself.

Moreover, the children already saw him. And on a side note, I am really surprised that we are still supposed to go along with this 'Santa-is-real' stuff. Aren't they old enough by now to know that he is not? Why do they have to live a lie in the first place?

(Maybe living a lie is a little over the top, but never mind. You get the point, right, Mario?)

So anyway, I asked Little Mac who Santa is, and out of nowhere, Lucas and Ness appeared next to us. "Whatever do you mean?" they said, "Santa is Santa. His Elves are having a day off, which is why Link and Toon Link will have to help him out, but Santa Claus is Santa Claus."

And then Little Mac looked at me as if I just told them they're adopted and hissed "Santa's in the fitting-room" and "since he put on some weight and needs a new suit."

Which is secret language for 'Marth's still not done with the costume', so logically I made my way to dear Marth's room.

And I wish you were here, Mario, just so you could see Santa.

The sight was glorious, really. I knocked and was allowed in after loudly assuring Marth that neither Popo, Nana, nor Ness or Lucas were anywhere to be seen, and laid my eyes upon Ganondorf, who, in all of his broody silence, stood on a pedestal and patiently watched Marth cut the seam of his pants.

Honestly, I did not expect our mighty Gerudo King to willingly don a fake beard and a red costume and a baby bump made out of foam to get a nice beer belly.

But I guess Christmas really is the time of wonders. Maybe some credit is due to the medication he's on, but he looked to be really into it, you know. Perhaps a little too much, he ordered Marth around a little bit and told him where the costume needed to be improved, where to cut some material and where to add a few ribbons, and it kind of goes without saying that Marth looked a little bitter, but in the end, both of them were satisfied with how the costume looked. I think Marth really outdid himself this time. So maybe the Helping Elves costumes look a little too much like Mother Nature's Forest Fairies —there, I said it— but Santa's costume is truly a masterpiece.

Ganondorf is not the ball Dedede is, so the costume had to be padded here and there, but it all had to look natural, because Santa can't be bloated, so the seam had to be tightened in some places— but not too much, since we can't have a Santa who looks like he's about to burst out of his costume. So that was really tricky to do. But Marth managed to pull it off, and Ganondorf looks fantastic in red (not as good as you do, of course). Now all that's left is to hope that he can really sell the Santa act— no doubt he'll be better than Dedede, and since Marth even said he'd personally do his makeup, I believe there's not much that can go wrong.

You know, there were some moments when I felt like I was being sucked in deeper and deeper into this collective craziness, which is why I would need you here right now.

Luckily, there's someone else who doesn't feel this vibe.

"So… What do you think of this one?"

"I don't know. Its leaves are a little too brownish. You know what I mean?"

"… No."

"Well, look." Peach pointed at some cones on the tall fir's top. "In this light…"

Ike narrowed his eyes. "Oh, yeah, yeah," he said and pensively nodded after a few moments of inspecting the tree. He walked to the next one and gently tapped its stem with the chainsaw. His breath was visible in front of the woods, and in the background, Kirby was rolling though the snow. "This one?"

"Too small."

"True. Hm."

The princess rubbed her arms. The snow had stopped falling, so after her visit to Marth's, she'd set out to look for Ike in the park, who, in turn, was supposed to be looking for a Christmas tree. It had been colder than she'd thought when she'd stepped out of the Mansion, but Peach had been well prepared, like she always was. Her coat, gloves and boots were all padded with down feathers— and completely pink. Ear muffs so her hair wouldn't get messy, and then she'd determinately waded through the snow towards the little park at the back of Master Hand's huge property.

And when she'd found him, he'd stood in front of the trees and had looked just as clueless as she'd expected him to be, with snow in his hair instead of a felled tree over his shoulder. She hadn't been surprised. Ike was no botanist, and he was even less of a Christmas person than her. Maybe not less than Mario, but still.

"So how about this one?" Peach gently ran her gloved fingers over the bark of an especially tall fir.

Ike turned around to inspect said tree. "Asymmetric."

"What? That's not a valid argument. You'll never find a perfectly symmetrical tree."

"Gosh, why is it so hard to find a damn Christmas tree? They all look the same anyway!"

"But you just said—"

"Forget what I said, that was nonsense. They all look the same! This one," and he pointed at the tree they'd discussed before, "is not browner than that one!" And he pointed at the tree to his left. "They look exactly alike! They're identical! How can this be so hard?" Ike huffed in aggravation and gave one of the firs a hard kick. The tree shook, the snow resting on its branches loosened and collapsed in a heap in one fat avalanche, covering the mercenary from head to toe.

A grunt came from under the white mass, and Peach awkwardly coughed to cover up her giggles. Cursing, Ike began to dig himself free with the help of Kirby, who'd rolled over and merrily started to suck in the snow.

"Look, just take that one." Peach pointed at the next best tree.

Ike glanced up while brushing the powdery snow off his sleeves. "I can't just take that tree. What if she'll think it's too ugly?"

Peach cocked her head and raised a brow. "There are no ugly trees. This one's big, symmetrical and perfectly green, and there's no way Zelda will think it's ugly."

"Stupid Christmas." Ike pouted as he tried to get rid of Kirby, who was once again chewing on the young man's leg. "I don't understand why the entire training has to come to a halt just so we can celebrate this whole thing. It's so materialistic." Kirby let go of Ike's leg and jumped up and down, which Peach interpreted as a fervent nodding. "Why do we need a tree anyway?" Ike continued. "Talk about deforestation. Has anyone here ever even heard of that term?"

"Well, Link's pretty active in conservationist organisations."

Ike gave her an annoyed look.

"Ask her for help, then," the princess challenged him.

He morbidly chuckled. "I'm not going to do that. This should've been the simplest task ever, and I'm epically failing." Oh, men and their pride. "Plus, she's already almost burned out with all the work she's got. I don't want her to collapse."

"Aw. That's so cute," Peach teased him and earned herself a grim look.

"This is how it would probably go: I go look for her in the Mansion, which will take me quite some time, since this elf—"

"Hylian."

"Nuance. So I find her after half an hour since she's constantly running around and being busy organising stuff. After convincing her to help me find a tree, because apparently I'm not capable of doing that on my own, I'll probably have to wait another twenty minutes. We come here, trip number one." Ike raised his gloved index finger. "She gets overwhelmed at the incredible choice but concurrent uniformity of this grove, and, since she's quite agitated from running around all day already, faints as a result of the stress. So not only isn't she able to tell me which tree to cut, no, I'll have to carry her to the Mansion and afterwards get back here. Trip number two. And trip number three would be me cutting a random tree after all and hauling it to the Mansion, and I could've done without all of that."

Three of his fingers were now raised, signifying the number of trips. Peach could not but laugh. "Wow, you really don't like Christmas, do you? And you don't actually think that's how it would go, right?" Ike grinned and shook his head. "Why are you helping, then?"

"Isn't it in the spirit of Christmas to help others?" He sighed, put on goggles and ear defenders, unlocked the chainsaw and then brutally pulled the starter cord a few times, holding the tool well away from himself, Kirby, and the princess. The engine revved. "She was panicking because there was no tree, and I was just standing around doing nothing, feeling a little bad about it, so I thought 'hey, I can help'. I couldn't have known finding a damn tree would be so hard."

Apparently he'd decided to just get it done and fell the tree Peach had suggested, for he gave her a sign to move away, which she obediently did, and then held the blade to the tree's stem to decide where exactly he should cut it. "Further down," Peach yelled in the hope that he'd hear her despite the unfashionable but vital equipment on his head. He did, and then she saw him disengage the chain brake and shrieked as the tool began to rotate so loudly her plush ear muffs almost fell off her head, so hard did she slap her hands on her ears.

Gosh, who would've thought chainsaws were so loud? she thought while hurrying away to the other end of the clearing, far enough so that her eardrums could heal. Kirby was already there and had buried his head —his entire body, that was— in a pile of snow; the little creature's pink feet, sticking out of the pile, were the only visible proof that he was still there.

The sound the chainsaw made was worse than Pit's singing, Peach decided, and after what felt like an eternity (but probably wasn't), she heard Ike yell "Timber!" over the screaming engine, and then fifteen metres of solid wood slammed to the ground and stirred up so much snow at once that the blonde princess felt as if she were standing naked in the middle of a blizzard. She felt like an icicle and most likely looked like one— though she was cold, the thick coat had spared her body, but going without a cap had been a stupid idea, since her hair was now ruined anyway.

"Whoo, sorry about that!" Ike jogged over, looking like a yeti himself, and pulled Kirby out of the snowbank. His cheeks were burning red as he hugged the pink creature tightly to his chest and rubbed the snow on its skin away. "But at least now there's one less thing to deal with."

"Yeah." Peach spat out snow.

"Okay, let's get this monster tree back to the Mansion, shall we?"

The next thing she knew Kirby got dumped into her arms and almost cut off her air as he wrapped his short arms around her neck. She gently patted his back— the little ball was shaking so badly that Peach swiftly decided to ask Marth to design him a tailor-made cap. Yes, Kirby was sure to be big on caps. Plus, caps were totally in this season.

The felled tree suddenly began to move. Ike had taken hold of its stem and begun to haul it towards the Mansion.

"Come on," Peach said to Kirby and began to move, "we better get back inside, where there's a fireplace just waiting for us."

She hadn't walked ten metres when Kirby started to fidget in her arms and suck on her hair. Peach had to laboriously free her golden mane from him and was more than glad to set him on the ground; he was no lightweight. And no wonder, considering how much he ate. As soon as his little feet touched the ground, Kirby dashed through the snow towards Ike and then climbed the stem to get a ride back to the Mansion. Peach followed him.

"So," Ike said as Peach caught up to them, "any news from Mario?"

"Oh, you know we're not Christmas people. He'll be back in a few days, before New Year's Eve"

"I know, I know…" He shook his head and forcefully tugged on the tree. "You're normal people. I've said it often enough, but I don't get this craziness."

"Hm." Peach shook out her gloves. If only Mario were here. It wasn't Ike's first year in the Mansion, but he hadn't been here for as long as she and Mario had, and while the latter had managed to stay unimpressed by the festive insanity —while Peach had as well— she feared that she might be cracking. Now, after all these years. This is why she'd gone looking for Ike, so he'd remind her why the concept of Christmas was so absurd. "Do you need some help with that?" she absentmindedly asked him. The tree was pretty big. "I can go get Bowser or Donkey Kong."

"No, it's okay," Ike just shrugged it off and kept pulling. "I'm sorry for not having warned you about the chainsaw back there, your ears must've fallen off. If they're still intact, that is. Christmas music, though! Some of the melodies are nice, I'll admit it, but it's basically all the same and it goes on and on and on and when it's over, really it's not! It just starts all over again! And Pit just can't sing for the life of him."

Peach smiled. He'd been supposed to remind her of the absurdity of this holiday, and so far, he was delivering. "No, he can't."

Suddenly, Ike looked frustrated. "This whole idea is just materialistic, don't you think?"

"I know, right," Peach exclaimed, "I mean, of course I don't complain about getting a gift." Never. If there was one thing Peach's love for could compete with her love for Mario, it were presents… And maybe ice-cream. "But all this entire fest is basically about is getting presents."

"Well, I'm just glad we don't have to get everyone a damn present. I'm not swimming in gold."

"Whose Secret Santa are you?" There was no risk in asking him— they were over forty Smashers in the Mansion, and the probability that he'd drawn her name was relatively small.

Ike snorted. "Secret Santa. That name, though. I drew Pikachu."

"What did you get him?"

"Batteries. A whole lot of them."

"I'm sure he'll like that." Peach smiled. Batteries were rare out here, and they were, without a doubt, the Pokémon's favourite snack. Ike must've gone through quite some trouble to get his hands on batteries.

The mercenary nodded. "Let's hope so. He should have enough until next Christmas, but something tells me the entire stock will be eaten up by the end of next week." Ike let go of the tree and slumped to the ground. "Phew, okay, let's rest for a minute."

Peach gracefully sank into the snow next to him. The tree had left behind a long, brown trail through where it had been dragged, five hundred metres long— but they had still just as much to go. "Still don't want any help?"

"No," Ike muttered and observed Kirby, who was eating some smaller branches, "I'm just quite hungry. Can you believe that I forgot to eat lunch? If there's something I'm really looking forward to, it's dinner."

There were a few seconds of silence, only interrupted by Kirby's audible chewing. "You know that we're not going to start eating until the first star in the sky gets spotted, right?"

Ike's blue eyes were full of desperation as he stared at Peach and realised she wasn't joking. He buried his head in his hands. "Oh, f—"

"Nah-ah! Watch your tongue!" Peach quickly threw a snowball on his head. Ike grunted. "But I believe there's something else you can look forward too."

"And what would that be?" Ike didn't sound convinced. He ruffled his hair, and the snow from it partially fell on Peach.

Her pink coat had often proven itself to be one of the best investments Peach had ever made, and it did so once again; it had so many pockets that she'd never bothered to count, and in one of those her hand was currently rummaging for something. Fine, maybe there were one too many pockets, Peach reluctantly admitted as she reached into another one. In fact, there were so many of them that sometimes, it took her a while to find things. "Ah, there it is."

She slowly pulled the object out of her pocket and placed it in Ike's lap. His brow was furrowed in confusion. "What is this?"

"Mistletoe." Peach could not contain the excitement in her voice.

"Well duh. But what's it for?" Hesitantly, Ike raised the plant to his nose and awkwardly smelled on it. "Can you smoke it?"

"What the—" She threw another snowball at him, unnerved. "Are you kidding me? You use it to kiss a girl!"

His reaction was swift. Ike recoiled and stared at the princess in utter shock. "Wow, that's just cold! You're engaged! Bros before hoes, and Mario—"

Another snowball, this time straight in the face, shut him up. Ike gasped in surprise, a very unmanly sound.

"Not me, dimwit! I'm not the only girl in the Mansion!"

Sometimes, men were so blind.

I know she'd lynch me if she knew I told you, but it's not like she'll ever know, since she's above going dumpster diving, and the trash is probably where this letter will end up. She never admitted having the hots for him, but nothing slips my attention. I can see it in her eyes every time they talk, and believe me when I say he's into her as well. I have a good eye for that sort of things. He even deemed her needs more important than food, and if that's not the ultimate confession— I don't know what is.

I'm infected enough to have decided to play Helping Elf and help them along. All I need now are fake ears and a handful of red paint in the face.

Dinner will be ready soon, and I've chosen to wear the dress you got me last year for my birthday— the green one, remember? I suppose it looks christmassy enough, especially with the golden bangles and matching pumps. Remember, always match your accessories. I'm so proud of you that you heed my counsel and follow this rule, Mario.

I promised Zelda to help her set the table, so this is where I'll leave you.

I can't wait until Monday to see you again.

I love you.

Peach set down the pen and took a deep breath. Though she'd taken several breaks, her hand was hurting from all the writing, so she clenched and unclenched her fist several times. There was no need to check the wastepaper basket to know it was filled to the brim with crumpled paper, so many letters had she begun and thrown away. Christmas was driving her crazy, there was no doubt about it.

"Alright, let's dive into the madness," Peach groaned and ran her hands over her face.

And after one last look in the mirror, she left her room.

Hell awaited her downstairs.

Again, they were maybe fifty Smashers, but the dining hall was so crowded that it felt like there were over a hundred. Naturally Master Hand and Crazy Hand took up quite some space, but the usually so enormous hall suddenly made Peach almost claustrophobic.

Speaking of Claus, Ganondorf stalked past her in that very moment, in full rig and the sack filled with candy over his shoulder— followed by four overly excited kids and King Dedede, of whose costume there wasn't much left.

Peach fled through the hall to the kitchen, where she was immediately met by Zelda with a mountain of porcelain dishes in her hands. Her friend, now in a red Helping Elf costume, was trying hard to keep her balance, which was no easy task with all of the Pokémon dashing round her feet. On the spur of the moment Peach rushed to the Hylian and took half of the dishes.

"Thanks," Zelda breathed and led the way back to the dining hall, "I asked Diddy Kong to get the Pokémon out of the kitchen, but he just joined them in playing tag."

Typical Diddy Kong. "That was to be expected," Peach flatly said and rapidly jumped out of Jigglypuff's way.

"I know, I know," Zelda confessed, "but everyone else was somehow busy. You know, I'm starting to dislike Christmas." She dropped the load on the table and leaned against a chair to observe the Smashers, heavily breathing.

Last year, Peach would've asked Zelda if she was finally coming to her senses, but now, what she felt was… disappointment. Admitting it was weird. "No, don't say that," she weakly argued, "the whole Christmas parties depend on you."

Zelda snorted. "That's the problem. I'm overwhelmed with this, and all these problems are really just so f—"

"Watch your tongue!"

Zelda gulped. "Right. Sorry." She opened her mouth, but closed it right again. Nothing new, the Hylian princess was the less talkative of the two girls. In fact, Peach did most of the talking when they were hanging out, but suddenly Zelda's eyes had widened. Peach knitted her brows.

"Is… everything alright? Is my lipstick smudged?" Damn, she knew she shouldn't have applied it with such haste.

But Zelda shook her head with a mysterious grin on her lips. "Nope. I've got to go." And so she rushed away in a blur of red, leaving a baffled Peach behind.

The Mushroom Princess gazed after her friend in confusion. What the f—

"Surprise, Peachy!"

She almost got a heart attack at the sound of that voice, that voice she knew better than her own, the one she'd missed so much. Slowly, Peach turned around.

There he stood, life-size and as real as it could get, her plumber, her fiancé, her best friend. "Didn't expect a-me back so soon, huh?" Mario asked and leaned over to give his princess a quick kiss. His moustache tickled her nose, and the familiar feeling of it suddenly evoked such warmth in her heart that Peach thought she might burst. Full of verve, she flung her arms around his neck, and the pair almost toppled over backwards.

"Mario! Oh, Mario, am I glad you're here! I thought I'd go crazy!"

"It's alright," he laughed and patted her back as she smothered his cheek with kisses, "the biggest a-blizzard of the decade a-forced us to stop the work. We won't be able to continue until January, so naturally I came a-home earlier. Come on, let's a-get out of here."

He wanted to tug her towards the exit, but to her own surprise, Peach resisted. Mario turned around in confusion. The princess took a deep breath. "Why don't we stay?"

"Mamma Mia, you're infected!" Hastily, Mario slipped off one of his gloves and placed his palm on Peach's forehead. She brushed it away, rolled her eyes and took his hands in hers.

"I'm serious. You know, I always assumed you would crack first, but it looks like I was wrong. I helped them out today." A small grin crept on her lips; Peach felt incredibly cheesy about what she was about to say. "And I realised that you don't have to understand Christmas to enjoy it. It's about being with the people you love, and the biggest gift is them loving you back."

Luckily for her, Mario was by far the cheesier of the two. He always had and always would be.

"Okay now, don't weep, darling. That wasn't as deep as it sounded." She gently patted his cheek and watched as he awkwardly blinked away the wetness in his eyes.

"It was a-beautiful," the plumber snivelled. "Fine… Let's stay. I'm going to go find a mistletoe, yes?"

"Oh, Ike has one, but in retrospect, I don't think he knows how to use it. I think if you find him…"

Peach craned her neck to look for their blue-haired friend, who had to be somewhere in this room, given that he was most likely on Christmas tree decorating-duty. Ah, there he was, determinately walking towards someone. Peach stopped short as she recognised that someone as Zelda, and both she and Mario watched the mercenary tap the princess on the back. "No… I don't a-think he does."

Oh, dear. She inwardly scolded herself for not having explained to Ike how exactly to use a mistletoe, because watching him hold out the plant to Zelda was quite cringe-worthy, to be honest. Peach sighed, feeling the desire to faceplant in an un-princess-like manner. "Oh, honey… You're supposed to hold it over her head."

It seemed that Zelda had caught on to his intention despite his awkward interpretation of the mistletoe tradition, though. Neither Peach nor Mario could hear what she was saying, but they saw her gratefully accept the mistletoe and then vigorously pull Ike down to kiss him squarely on the lips.

"Looks like my good deed for today is done," Peach concluded and ran her fingers through Mario's hair. "This evening literally couldn't have started out better."

The plumber laughed and wrapped his arms around the princess. "Literally?"

"Literally."

I apologise for any inaccuracies due to the fact that I've never operated a chainsaw (but I did some research on how to use one!). So please enjoy :)