Author's notes: This is a submission to hannahsue--'s contest "'Tis The Season" with the prompt to write a story based around a winter holiday celebration (or lack of).

Word count: 676

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Midwinter. The longest night of the year. Other than being a turning point of the world's magical forces and thus of high importance in Asarlon, the country of sorcerers, this day also brought with it the eager anticipation of the spring to come. That alone was a good reason for also the commoners to celebrate.

It had been almost half a year since Alasdair had met Verel for the first time and brought him to his old hometown of Carragin. Fortunately the demon had forgiven him for forcing him into servitude relatively quickly. He had tried his very best to make Verel feel more like a companion than a slave, but that didn't erase the fact that he had chosen to be selfish and prolong his own life with the pact despite the demon's protests. 80 years in this world just had not been nearly enough to complete his research on magical creatures.

He made it a point never to give orders Verel would have been compelled to obey too. Although sometimes he was tempted to. The people in Carragin were for the most part nice to him despite him being a demon, so why did he have to be so antisocial? The young women even swooned over his tall, strong body and handsome, ever youthful face. The differences to humans – the pointed ears, the small horns and red eyes –, his tanned skin and black-and-crimson mane of hair only made him seem exotic rather than dangerous like the demons of legend.

Alasdair had pretty much had to drag the demon along to the town hall where all the occupants of the small town had gathered to feast and have fun. His former colleagues in the ruling council would have scowled at how familiar he was with his servant, as well as his habit to be in friendly terms with the people he was supposed to be the liege lord of. But the old sorcerer didn't really care. Just seeing the smiles on all these faces was worth much more than power and empty titles.

The hall was decorated with branches of evergreen trees, candles and ribbons of many colors. Long benches lined the large tables filled with delicious food and drink. Some of them no doubt thanks to Verel – the demon was a born hunter with his speed, agility and razor-sharp claws and generous enough to share his kills.

Alasdair chuckled. Right now it looked like the hunter had become the hunted. Verel had left the table momentarily to fetch some more spicy, hot wine only served during the cold season, and had been surrounded by the maidens of the town, who were herding him towards the spot where a mistletoe had been tied to one of the ceiling beams.

Oh well. Let the young ladies have their fun. Verel would return to him for "protection" if the situation started getting on his nerves too much.

~*~*~

That had been closer to three decades ago. They still joined the festivities for a few hours each year, both for the townspeople and for their young apprentice, Kayleen. But Alasdair had also come to appreciate just staying the late hours of the evening in the manor with his little family.

Verel and Kayleen had baked all kinds of sweet treats, and the entire house smelled delicious. Now the two were lounging on the carpet in front of the fireplace – Verel's favorite spot to relax ever since he had first come here – and playing some card game.

Alasdair lay the book he hadn't been reading for a good while down on his lap and cast his eyes on the golden ring bearing his family's crest. Verel had a simpler one with the same symbol engraved. A token of ownership to those who did not know them. So much more for those who did. Much like the necklaces imbued with magic both of them wore. A demon – no, chaekrin – way to show lifetime commitment.

With everything in his life just perfect, he wouldn't have minded at all if the solstice night never ended.