The Clockmaker and His Princess

Can you hear the laughter of the children down the streets of Brawl City? See how they frolic through the winter landscape, how gently the snow dances into the hands of the eager little children who look up toward the cloudy grey skies as they stick their tongues out to catch these magical snowflakes. Do you hear singing reverberating through the air? Hear the merry carolers let loose the joyous songs from their souls, their imperfect voices mingling together in perfect harmony. And the bells! Oh, can you hear the bells, can you hear the bells ringing in their tinkle-tinkle-tinkle way, and can you hear what happiness they bring to the beggars crouched low in the streets? Can you hear their shuffling footsteps, their baited breaths, as they gather around the base of the bell tower to receive their hot meals? Yes, it is winter, and it is the Christmas spirit, and you can look around and see the mistletoe, the pine trees, and the red-tinged cheeks of those wandering outside and understand it all in an instant.

But listen! Listen again! And listen closely this time. Lean your ear toward that window over there, the one with all those clocks on display, and close your eyes. Still your breathing and lean closer, until your ear is pressing against the cold glass.

Can you hear it? Can you hear it? It is the quiet ticking of a clock. Hear how it goes tick-tock tick-tock in that perfect way it does. Every tick! is in place, every tock! is on time. And when the two come together, it makes the oddest and most beautiful sound.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

There is no doubt about it; a master has made these clocks to make them sound so alive, so magnificent. Look up now, open your eyes, and you will see a young man sitting at the counter of the bright shop, with big blue eyes and ruffled brown hair. He seems at lost to the world as he stares at his own clocks, and he sighs, the noise rendered mute by the glass separating the two of you. But you can tell, by the sickly light in his eyes, by the way he presses a hand against his cheek, that the sigh was heartfelt and sincere. Stand there now, don't run away, and wait. The clocks will soon ring in time for noon, and it is a sound and sight you don't want to miss.

It is five minutes to noon when the young man stands up. He sees you, and yet he doesn't see you as he walks over to the window. He presses a hand against the window, traces the misty, lukewarm spot your breath made on the glass. The young man stares at you, long and hard, and then you realize that he is looking past you. Turn around, now, and look over to the house, no, mansion behind.

You see nothing of interest there, the superfluously decorated carriage waiting in front of the snow-covered, but still neat, lawn. You turn back around, but the young man has pulled down the window shades.

You might feel angry, you might feel insulted, but it is time for you to head home now. There is nothing more to see.

The young clockmaker known as Pit is in love. He knows he is by the way his heart beats, by the way he sweats, by the way he dreams.

Love comes in many different forms, and Pit's love happens to be the bitterest and sweetest. It poisons and heals him from the inside, it twists and shapes his mind, and it stabs and dresses his heart in so many ways that it begins to bleed emotion. Logic and emotion sit beside on each shoulder, whispering furiously in shrill voices in his ear to do this, to not do this, to do that, to not do that.

He cannot make clocks. He cannot focus enough on it to put these delicate gears together, to set the slender hands right on the fragile surface. And so, for the majority of the past few months, his shop is closed, and he spends all his time gazing outside at the mansion across from him, dreaming and wishing.

Pit remembers very well the first time he saw her. It had been a beautiful spring day, where the birds were singing and the trees were laden heavily with the weight of their own emerald leaves. He had been taking a pleasant springtime walk with his master, Olimar, as he had still been an apprentice at the time. The old mansion across from his master's humble clock shop had been bought, and the new owners had done a marvelous job redoing its shabby appearance. It is now a grand display of marble and wood, of gold and silver, and the simple folks of Brawl City can only stand and stare at the extravagance of this mansion.

Pit hears Olimar mutter about how wasteful it was, but he pays no attention to him. He sees a carriage coming into view, as does the rest of the crowd, and hundreds of heads turn as armored soldiers march through, clearing a path through for the carriage, black plumes on their heads flopping wildly in the wind. They snap sharply to attention and a short soldier marches over to the carriage like some mutant, organic nutcracker and yanks open the door.

The most beautiful woman steps out.

Her golden hair shines in the bright sunlight, making it shimmer like sunbeams in the forest. Her skin is like the purest of snow, her lips full and smooth. As she walks past the crowd, Pit fancies that her light footsteps seem to be as graceful as a flying bird's, and that her eyes sparkles like the sapphires his deceased mother had once shown him.

At that moment, Pit fell for this woman, and knows in a heartbeat that he must somehow find a way to have her marry him.

That had been in the spring. It is the wintertime now, with Christmas fast approaching. Pit's master has moved on. The woman, Zelda, remains wild and free and untouchable, and it kills Pit each time whenever he sees her walk by his humble shop. The mansion stands outside his window still, a constant reminder of what he can never have. It is, as they say, a situation where one is so close and yet so far.

It is on the 15th day of December that his old friend Ike visits. Pit meets him at the train stop where clouts of steam pump themselves into the sky before fading away into the bland grayness above. When Ike sees him, he slaps him on the back, causing Pit to stumble forward, and exclaims, "Pit! How've you been doing?"

"Eeh, just fine," Pit mumbles as he straightens up, adjusting his cap. Ike grins. His old friend looks extremely well and fit. He dresses in the military uniform that all members of the Smasher Army wears, and the brass buttons that run along its seams flare up when light touches them. Pit begins to pick up Ike's luggage when the robust man held up a hand.

"It's all right, I can carry them myself. You could carry Peach's, if you want to."

Pit raises an eyebrow. "Peach?"

Ike nods toward the stalling train. Pit takes a look. A fairly young woman stands on the platform in childish, naïve wonder, her blue eyes wide as she looks around her. When she sees the two men looking at her, though, she strides toward them with a self-assured confidence that is visible in the way she holds herself and in the smile that suddenly finds its way to her face. "Hello there," she says in a crisp voice, and holds out a hand. "I take it that you're Pit?"

"Yes'm," Pit says, shaking her hand politely. It feels warm.

"A pleasure to meet you then."

"Peach is the ambassador for the Mushroom Kingdom, and the Master decided to post me on bodyguard duty for her," Ike explains. "There's a meeting being held here. I figured it'd be nice to drop by, you know, visit old childhood friends and all." He laughs. "Pit was always the peace advocate of our group. He was the only one who didn't join the Smash Army."

"Shut up, Ike," Pit says in exasperation more than anger. He gives a sheepish smile to Peach, as if to say Silly guy isn't he? to her. "Here, do you want me to carry your bags?"

"That would be wonderful," Peach chirps. "Thank you very much."

Despite the winter cold, the cobblestone streets of the city are still as lively as ever. People rush about to their destinations, carriages and their horses steadily trot their way through, and the bell tower still rings. Children run and couples sit happily on the benches, leaning against each other with tender sighs. Pit catches the mansion out of the corner of his eye, and his heart lurches when he sees that Zelda is standing on a balcony, looking down at the busy scene below her.

"That's a rather nice mansion," Peach comments. "Who owns it?"

Pit forces himself to tear his gaze away from the beauty hovering above him. "Uh…" His mind scrambles for answers. "I think it was… oh, yes, it was the Hyrule family. They moved in last spring." As he fumbles for the keys to unlock his shop's door, Peach claps her hands together.

"Oh, that's lovely!" she exclaims. "The meeting is right next door, then! Isn't that convenient, Ike?"

"Guess you could say that."

Next door. His friend and his ambassador will be heading next door, where Zelda is. The keys almost drop from Pit's hands. Fate really wasn't fair to him, at all. Pit stabs at the lock and jerks the door open with such force before realizing that the two were staring at him oddly. He flushes, and tells himself to calm down.

Pit walks in and lights the gas lamps. He beckons the two to follow him, and leads them upstairs to his living quarters. "Take a seat," Pit says, pulling out some chairs. "I'll have lunch ready soon."

Lunch is a simple meal, consisting of stew and bread. It is befitting for a simple craftsman like him, but it is embarrassing to serve it to his high class guests. Although he has prepared for this occasion, he still feels like his best isn't enough for them.

Ike does not mind. He is a military man, and he gobbles down what food he can. He cheerfully takes bowl after bowl of stew, and constantly remarks about how this meal brings back memories of 'the good old days.'

Peach keeps her emotions much more under control. She smiles as she eats in small bites, in small sips, and only speaks when no one else is speaking. When Pit asks her nervously what she thinks of the food, the blonde ambassador nods and says, "It's charming."

"How's the clock business holding up?" Ike asks.

"Meh, same old, same old." Pit sighs. "There isn't much business as there was last year. It's those electric clocks, you know? Those ones made out of brass and copper. They're all the rage right now, because they're more durable than our wooden ones, and supposedly more accurate."

"Mm, I see what you mean," Ike says. "The Smash Army's finding less use for magic swordsmen like me, now that all these new inventions are popping up."

"Change is inevitable," Peach pipes up unexpectedly. "When it comes, one will either have to adapt or die."

Ike laughs. "Oh, that's a very pessimistic saying, m'lady."

"But it's true." Peach smiles in that strange way of hers. "Look at history. Look at those countries that refused to change when the time came. What happened to them?"

"True, true. But we didn't come here to be dreary and depressed. 'Tis the holiday season and all that."

They talk a bit more, but Pit is not listening. He is staring out the window again, where he can see the balcony of the Hyrule Mansion. Zelda is still there, her eyes full of sky as she holds out a slender hand toward a wary bird. The avian chirps and cautiously hops toward her, then pecks at the small pile of feed she has in her hand. Suddenly, she turns her head, and her eyes catch Pit with such intensity that he almost chokes. He can't help but stare back into those mesmerizing pools, and he finds a smile tugging at the edges of his lips. He begins to raise a hand to wave hello to her, but she sharply turns away and heads inside. He lets his hand drop.

"Oi, Pit, what're you looking at?" Ike asks curiously. He follows his gaze, sees nothing, and grunts. "What's the time? Never mind, there's a clock." Ike pauses, then stands up. "Well, thanks for the lunch and all, Pit. It was nice catching up with you."

Pit blinks, then hears the clock behind him chime four times. Four o'clock. "Oh, no problem," Pit says. "Er, wait, where are you going?"

"The meeting," Peach replies. "It starts quite soon, actually, and we have to be on our way."

"Oh, I see!" Pit hesitates as he leads them down the stairs. "Erm… do you think…?"

"Think what?" Ike asks.

Pit closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and says, "Well, I've always wanted to see the inside of a mansion. Do you think you can take me with you?"

Ike opens his mouth to reply, but Peach beats him to the question first. "I don't think so," she says thoughtfully. "They are rather touchy on security. After all, this is a meeting of the ambassadors."

"And trust me," Ike adds, "the inside of a mansion isn't anything to look at. Really. I've been to tons of them. Nothing but a bunch of blown-up bull."

"But I really want to," Pit forces himself to say, and feels extremely childish upon uttering those words. Ike gives him a strange look, but Peach simply laughs.

"Oh, maybe later," she says. Peach wraps her scarf around her neck and says pleasantly, "You never know. It is the Christmas season, after all."

Ike says nothing as he tugs on his coat, but Pit can sense that the soldier is beginning to suspect him. Pit opens the door for them and says, "Thank you, Miss Peach. You should hurry, then. You don't want to be late."

"No, we wouldn't," Ike says coolly, and shakes Pit's hand before leaving with Peach. Pit watches them leave before slamming the door shut.

He is an idiot, and he knows it. What is he thinking? What will he achieve by getting access into the mansion? There is no way that he can approach Zelda, no way that he can talk to her. Instead he'll be standing there, sweating and blubbering to himself like the lovesick fool he is and end up getting himself kicked out of the mansion forever.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Pit pounds the wall in frustration.

There is no way that he can get Zelda to look at him. Unless…

Pit stares at his clocks. Maybe, just maybe, if he gets in, he can leave some flowers, a note proclaiming his love. And maybe, just maybe, she will understand and return his love.

The idea is so far-fetched and stupid that he almost bangs his head against the wall. But he is desperate. Peach has hinted that she will somehow help him into the mansion by Christmas. If he can get in, then… then this might work.

Pit slams his fist into the wall again.

Stupid, stupid!

Pit works diligently on a card, and saves up his money to buy the right flowers. He counts the days until Christmas and realizes that he has only six more. Less than a week. Frustration mounts as he realizes that he is a horrible poet and an even more horrible writer. He cannot write flowery prose without making it sound overdone, overused. His wastebasket begins to overflow.

One part of him grumbles and complains that this is all useless. He won't be able to get into the mansion, he won't be able to finish the card in time, and he will probably choose the type of flowers that Zelda hates.

But another part of him whispers that this is all good, and that Zelda will surely see the good side of him and see him as a handsome young suitor who she will happily marry for all his troubles. He will finish everything in time, and when he finally meets her, everything will play out like a perfect scene.

It is on the third day from Christmas that Peach drops by to visit. She has dressed herself in a wonderfully new winter dress, and she giggles when Pit opens the door. "I just thought it'd be nice to see you again," she says. "I needed a fresh breath of air; diplomacy is such tiring work, you know. Do you mind if I come in?"

Pit flushes. "Not at all. Erm, can you stay here for a minute? I need to clean up a bit."

"Oh, not a problem."

Pit empties the wastebasket into the furnace and stuffs the drafts of his card into a drawer. He carefully locks his room's door and heads downstairs to apologize for causing Peach so much inconvenience when he sees that she's holding a clock.

"The craftsmanship in this is remarkable," Peach says softly. "How long does it usually take to make these?"

"Eh, I can usually make two or three every day," Pit says. "If I'm lucky, I can squeeze in four."

Peach looks around her with that same curiosity he had seen at the train station and he sees her smile, this time in genuine wonder. "And you managed to build enough of them to cover up all the walls," she says. "It must have taken you a long time."

"Well… some of them were easier to make," Pit says. "The big clocks are my favorite to make, though. A lot of people want the small ones they can hang on their walls, but I always liked to build the gigantic grandfather ones, you know?"

"It's truly amazing." Peach puts the clock back in its place and faces him, the smile still on her face. "You'll have to teach me how to make one, sometime."

"If we both have enough time," Pit promises. He hesitates, wondering if he should ask her about the mansion. No, no, that will seem rude. He tries to push the thought out of his head, but fails. It stubbornly sits in his mind, refusing to move.

Peach sits down and sighs, and she looks up at Pit with kind, gentle eyes. "It's so peaceful here, so… perfect. Yes, it's perfect." She looks away from his questioning gaze and murmurs, "The people here are so lucky. They have no clue of what they have, absolutely no clue."

"What are you talking about?" Pit asks, feeling a bit insulted.

Peach stares at him for a long, long time before answering in such a soft voice that Pit almost mishears her over the constant ticking that sounds through the room. "You make beautiful clocks, Pit. Don't take that for granted."

It is an odd statement, and it is a statement that Pit cannot wrap his mind around. He looks at her oddly then looks around him in confusion, trying to see the meaning in those strange words. He looks back at Peach, who stares steadily back at him, but before he can ask what she means, a series of knocks erupts from the door.

Knock knock knock! Knock knock knock!

"Hey there! It's Ike! I got something for you, Pit!"

Pit opens the door to reveal a madly grinning Ike, who happens to be holding something behind his back. "Well," he says, "have you grown any taller these past years?"

Pit flushes at what the soldier is implying. "Why do you want to know?"

"Oh, it's nothing, really. I just did a small favor for you, really, since you wanted to see the inside of a mansion so badly."

What? What? Pit cannot believe what he is hearing. He makes a face at Ike and tries to sound disinterested while his heart pounds. "Oh, and what is this favor of yours?"

"We-ell," Ike drawls, "are you sure you really want to see it? Really sure?"

Pit folds his arms across his chest. Peach giggles behind him. Ike gives a mocking, low bow and holds out a white box. "For your royal majesty…" he says.

Pit opens the box and drops it immediately at what he sees. The uniform within it falls onto the floor, the buttons making a clatter as they did so. The young clockmaker bends down and gingerly picks it up, unable to believe his eyes. "Is this…?"

"A Smash Army uniform, yes," Ike says happily. "I managed to convince the stationmaster here to lend me a new one. How'd you like it? It might be a bit big, but we can always trim it down and all. You can come along with us to the next meeting tomorrow as Peach's second escort. Nobody'll care and nobody'll notice."

"… Thanks," Pit manages to say. He can't find any other words to express the feelings of gratitude and joy inside of him. At last, he will finally face Zelda, to hear her voice, face-to-face! He clutches the uniform close to him and he hears Peach twitter behind him.

"Why don't you put it on, Pit?" Peach asks. "I can help alter it and such for you right now. I have the time."

Pit is overwhelmed by these feelings of kindness from his friends and he sits down, laughing his head off in pure euphoria as he cradles the uniform close to him.

Pit stays up late that night. He has bought a beautiful bouquet of bluebells which is sitting on his desk as he tries to scribble out his feelings into words. He sighs and leans back, staring with contempt at yet another failed attempt before crumpling the paper up and chucking it at the wall.

He closes his eyes and thinks hard and thinks long before an idea suddenly springs into his mind. Why is he spending so much time trying to write excessive, exaggerated phrases when all he needs are three simple words?

With a smile, Pit carefully writes on the piece of paper these three words, making sure that every letter was in line, every curl and curve put in place.

I love you.

-- Pit

The big day comes. Pit feels excitement and dread at the same time when Peach and Ike come to pick him up. He has put the flowers and the card into his bag, and he nervously smiles at the thought of approaching his love. Ike looks up and down at Pit and grunts.

"You don't look too bad in uniform," Ike says.

"Huh?" Pit blinks.

"Nothing, nothing," he says, waving his hand. "But try to pay better attention when we go in. We are supposed to be bodyguards, after all. You look like you're about to doze off any minute."

"I think he'll be fine," Peach says as they make their way up the mansion's steps. She smiles at Pit and gives him a small wink.

The interior of the mansion is not simply 'blown-up bull' as Ike had referred it as. It is magnificent, with its graceful, elegant buttresses, with its obsidian stairs draped with scarlet carpets, with the giant golden symbol of the Hyrule family engraved into the wall opposite of the entrance. Crystal chandeliers hang overhead like sparkling beehives and stained glass windows stretch across the halls with gorgeous paintings that were sure to be worth more than everything that Pit has combined.

They meet with a strange man in the hallway. He stands only at Pit's shoulder, but there is something about him that makes him seem taller. He wears a white mask and a black cape, as though he is attending some sort of masquerade, and his abnormally yellow eyes narrow as he inspects Pit.

"Who is this?" the man inquires.

"Oh, just a new recruit," Ike says breezily. "Pit, meet Sir Meta Knight."

A strange name befitting for a strange person. Pit begins to bow, stops himself, and salutes stiffly instead. Meta Knight does not return the salute. He speaks, instead, to Peach in a crisp, clipped tone. "The meeting is about to start. I suggest that you head inside straightaway."

"And where will you be?" Peach asks.

"Military business, m'lady. I cannot tell you." Meta Knight nods at Ike, at Peach, and leaves without another glance at Pit.

"He's always like that, don't worry," Ike says as they walk to the conference room. "He always finds fault with everyone he sees."

Pit nods. As they reach the oaken doors of their destination, however, he catches sight of a flash of golden hair and his heart beats faster. He coughs nervously, then coughs again. Ike and Peach look at him curiously.

"Something wrong?" Peach asks.

"Uh… I think… I might need to use the bathroom," Pit says in embarrassment. "Do you happen to know where it is?"

"Not a problem. It's right down that corridor, to the left."

"Thanks. I'll be right back."

Pit forces himself to walk, his mouth and throat dry, palms sweaty. He cannot mess this chance up. This is his one and only shot to declaring his love to her, to see if she has the same feelings as he does… no, she does have the same feelings! He is certain of it. She must. If she doesn't…

Pit angrily pushes the thought out of his head. He can't afford to think like this now, or he'll chicken out.

He treads lightly, trying to make sure that his footsteps make no noise. The hallway branches out to a brighter wing, where the rare winter sunlight streams through the clear, beautiful windows. Busts of the past owners sit solemnly along the walls, watching Pit with their blank marble eyes. He carefully looks around him, not daring to breathe, not daring to blink, as if the slightest movement will cause the entire mansion to collapse on his head.

And then he sees her, in all her perfect beauty. She sits in front of a giant window, the light gently setting her face and hair aglow, so that it seemed that she had a beautiful aura around her. Pit almost chokes at the sight of her but he takes a step forward, and tries to speak. The words catch in his throat, and he coughs. Zelda does not look back, but her voice rings out, pure and true.

"State your name and rank, soldier. What is your purpose here?"

Such a gorgeous voice! It possesses such a softness like velvet that Pit feels like he can bury himself inside of it. He takes a deep breath to steady himself and his nerves, and he says, "My name is Pit, m'lady. I am a clockmaker. I came to see you."

A pause. Then Zelda turns her delicate head around, her eyes filling up with a strange emotion that Pit cannot decipher. "I recognize you," she says quietly. "You were that man who was watching me, weren't you?"

"W-well, yes," Pit stammers. He looks down, a blaring red creeping into his cheeks. "I-I mean, I'm sorry if I caused you any discomfort, m'lady, but--"

"Why do you want to see me?" Zelda presses on over his babbling. "Tell me that, Clockmaker Pit."

"Ah…" Pit cannot find the strength to say anything else. His mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water before he finally manages to fumble out the bouquet. He tentatively steps forward and holds it out, a nervous smile on his face. "I… I love you," he manages to finally say.

Zelda looks at the flowers, the strange emotion still in her eyes, and turns away. "I am sorry, Clockmaker Pit, but I do not."

Pit lets the flowers drop from his slackening grasp. Zelda glances back, and it finally hits him like a million bricks when he recognizes the burning flame in her eyes. It is hatred, it is contempt, and it is disgust, and it is all visible in her voice as she speaks. "How you managed to enter my home is beyond me. I suggest that you leave now, Clockmaker Pit, before I call in the guards. I have no wish to see you again, and if I catch you spying on me once more, I will make sure that a heavy price will be pinned on your head."

"But…" The word slips out without him meaning to, and soon he finds himself begging, pleading. "Please, give me a chance?"

Zelda remains silent. Pit takes a shuddering breath and speaks in a hoarse voice. "Zelda?"

"I give you five minutes to leave this mansion," she says without looking back. "If you are not gone by then, do not expect any mercy."

Pit stands there, blinking rapidly. Zelda does not move.

At last, after an entire minute passes by, Pit slowly turns around and walks away. He looks back to see Zelda still sitting there, impassive and unmoved. Pit whips his head back forward and runs, his feet echoing loudly through the hallowed halls. He bursts out of the mansion, through the startled crowd, and nearly slams open the door to his home when he unlocks it. He staggers to his room upstairs and jerks the windows shut, and sits on his bed in complete darkness and silence.

He does not know how much time has passed, but he hears someone slowly coming up the stairs. He reaches for his gas lamp and flicks it on, casting trembling shadows across the walls. Peach stands at the doorway, confusion apparent in her smile. "We became worried when you didn't come back," she says. She looks around her, at the messy surroundings, at the ripped uniform on the floor and says nothing more.

"How did you get in?" Pit croaks.

"You left the front door unlocked."

Pit looks away. Peach cautiously approaches him, sits next to him. "What's wrong?" she whispers. "You were so happy when we headed out this morning, but now…"

"It's none of your business," Pit snaps, and then suddenly remembers that he is speaking to an ambassador when he sees the injured look in her eyes. "I'm sorry, ma'am. But… I think I'm better off being left alone."

"Don't call me 'ma'am,'" Peach says stoutly. "You make me feel old. Tell me what's wrong. Is it a woman?"

Pit looks at her with surprise. "How--?"

"I am not stupid, Pit. I've seen the way you've been looking at the mansion, the way you hopefully peer through the windows. It is clearly obvious to both Ike and I."

"Well, that's just wonderful," he growls. "Then you can probably guess what happened."

Peach shakes her head. "Pit…" She stops herself. "It's the Christmas season, Pit."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Peach closes her eyes. "While you were pursuing your impossible dream, Pit, I was pursuing mine." She opens them again, and Pit is suddenly startled by how bright they seem. "True, I am probably nothing more than a stranger to you, and I know almost nothing about you, but…" She drops her voice, says it softly. "I think I am in love with you. No, I know I am." She lifts up her steady gaze to meet his trembling one, and continues, "In a way, I wanted you to fail in your pursuit for Zelda. But I wanted you to be happy, Pit, I really did." She sighs. "You can't kill yourself over this, Pit. You can't lock yourself in forever for your courage to love. I… I did that, and I regret it. And look at where I've ended."

"You're an ambassador," Pit points out unnecessarily. "You have all this wealth, all this power…"

"It means nothing if there is no light in your world," Peach answers. She closes her eyes, lost in some distant memory. "His name was Mario," she says quietly, and a warm smile graces her lips. "He was the kindest, gentlest man I have ever met. During the time I met him, the Mushroom Kingdom was dealing with the rebel army led by Bowser." She opens her eyes again, gazes sadly ahead into the empty nothingness. "He sacrificed himself to save me… to save the Kingdom."

Pit is at lost for words. "I'm… sorry."

Peach looks up at Pit. "I know it's a lot to ask for, but…" The blonde woman chuckles. "Listen to me talk like this. I don't even know what I'm talking about."

"I think I understand you," Pit says truthfully. Peach smiles again, and this time, it seems to make the room brighter.

"I always had this one wish as a little girl," she says wistfully. "I would wish that Santa would come on Christmas night and bring me a magical prince to take me away to his palace in the sky. It's… it's a silly dream, I know that. But… I wanted it to be true." Peach looks back up at Pit. "Do you believe me?"

"I-I think I do. But what are you trying to tell me?"

Peach leans forward and dares to give Pit a squeeze on the hand. "Don't give up on your dreams," she whispers, her lips brushing against his ear. With that, she stands up, and leaves.

Christmas morning dawns on Brawl City. Peach stands at the platform, with Ike beside her. The soldier leans against the railing, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Y'know the funny thing?" Ike asks. "I went to say goodbye to Pit, but I couldn't find him. He wasn't home either."

Peach frowns. "That's odd."

Ike nods. Peach looks down the train tracks, suddenly at lost for words. "I'm sure he's fine," she says softly.

"Hmm, I hope he is."

Ten minutes later, the train pulls up, steam pumping out of its stack. The bell rings again and again, sending its bright and clear tune through the chilly air. Ike drags his luggage toward the train. Peach begins to follow him when she hears a voice shout, "Peach! Wait!"

She turns around, eyes wide, to see a familiar brown-haired man running toward her. He stops in front of her, panting and out of breath. "I'm glad that I came just in time," he manages to gasp.

"Pit?" Peach asks incredulously. "What are you doing--?"

"This… this is for you." He holds up a plain box. "Go ahead, open it. Just be careful. It's fragile."

Peach does. Inside is a beautifully made clock, its hands shaped like slender leaves, its wood a honey-brown color. She looks up at Pit. "Did you…?"

"It was one of the first clocks I made when I first worked under Master Olimar," Pit explains, a bit embarrassed. "It's not as good as the other clocks I made, but…"

Peach smiles as she holds it close to her. "I love it," she whispers.

Pit grins. "I'm glad to hear that. I mean… I want to thank you about your advice last night. It helped, it really did."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"I thought you would."

"Hey! Pit! Where were you, huh?" Ike waves as he pokes his head out of the train's window. "Oh, I see we have a new pair of lovebirds, eh?"

Peach laughs off the soldier's brash comment while Pit feebly protests. "I have to go now," she says. "The train is going to leave soon, and my kingdom is expecting me."

"Have a safe trip, then," Pit says.

Peach nods and begins to walk away when Pit suddenly grabs her by the arm. "Eheheh, sorry," he says sheepishly. "But I just wanted to say--"

Peach kisses him.

Pit's cry of surprise muffles down to blissful silence as he kisses her back. When they finally pull away, Pit has a stupid and dazed smile on his face. "I was going to say 'Merry Christmas,' but that works too," he says.

Peach hugs him tightly. "Would you like to come with me?"

"I'm a clockmaker," answers Pit. "My place is here."

Peach smiles. "I see," she says. "Well, I promise that I'll be back soon, and that I'll often."

"Same here."

With that, Peach gives Pit another kiss goodbye, and steps onto the train. She leans out the window as the train begins to move and waves to Pit until he finally disappears from view, and even then she still leans outside the window, her eyes full of sky and stars as she gazes back at the diminishing outline of Brawl City. Beside her, Ike gives an amused, playful scoff, but he says nothing on the matter as he sees the happiness blooming across her features.

And back in the train station, back on the train platform, Pit watches the steam and smoke fade into nothing as he stands, glad that a simple clockmaker like him could find a princess to call his own.

A/N: And this is why I don't write romance ;D This was written for Smashking24's Christmas contest, lol. In my opinion, it could be a heck lot better, but yeah. I don't think I have a real shot, considering my very, very obscure references the Christmas theme, but still, it was so fun and cheesy to write. I suck at romance, as you can probably tell, but I had a lot of fun doing this one-shot. Like, too much fun xD I think the ending is a bit rushed, but hey, who am I to judge? I really like to write A/U stories, so don't be surprised if you see this story's version of Ike, Pit, or Peach pop up again :P

Hope y'all enjoyed it!