Jim drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it upon the table.

"Don't make any mistake, Dell," he said, "about me. I don't think there's anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me like my girl any less. But if you'll unwrap that package you may see why you had me going a while at first."

White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails, necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting powers of the lord of the flat.

For there lay The Combs—the set of combs, side and back, that Della had worshipped long in a Broadway window.

Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with jeweled rims—just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but the tresses that should have adorned the coveted adornments were gone.

But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say: "My hair grows so fast, Jim!"

-- The Gift of the Magi, O. Henry (1917)

Lyric painted and painted with every ounce of emotion she'd felt during the time since she’d first come to Atlantis, and everything she’d felt for Dare for so long –the six long years that had led up to this moment.

She was possessed. The muse was riding her. Driving her. This would probably be the best painting she'd ever done, and yet she suddenly knew it wouldn’t be enough.

He loved her.

He loved her.

He’d offered to give up the sea for her. How could she give him only a painting, even the best painting of her life? No. She needed to give him something else. Something more.

This was Dare. This was the man she loved more than life itself and would love for eternity. He deserved the best gift that anyone had ever given, and she knew exactly how to get it.

She put down her paintbrush, walked to the table, and held out her hand. Warmth surged into her skin, emanating from the large round stone.

Yes, I'm yours. I'm your Wish. Use me as you will.

The voice was tantalizing, and she spared a moment to wonder about the stories of all those who’d come before her in the thousands and thousands of years since the Wish had first come to be.

But it was Christmas Eve, and she had no time for wondering or stories or imaginings. She needed to make a wish – and for that, she needed to call Poseidon.

Lyric walked out to the balcony that ran the length of the bedroom and adjoining room Riley had given her. She hadn’t spent much time on it, because she'd been at her easel so much. But it faced the sunset, and she knew that if the sea god would be anywhere, he would be presiding over the sun setting across the waves of his ocean. She grasped the railing with one hand and held the Wish out on her palm with the other.

"Poseidon, I'm calling you. I don't exactly know how this goes, and I have the highest respect for you and your warriors. In fact, I'm choosing one of them – one of yours – for my own. He's why I'm calling you. Please hear my call.”

She felt a little silly, but the Wish was whispering in her ear, so she repeated its words: "Poseidon, I invoke the power of the Wish. Please come to me now."

WHAT DO YOU ASK OF ME, HUMAN? aND WHATEVER IT IS, DO YOU REALLY THINK DARE IS WORTH IT?

She raised her chin in defiance, sparing a brief thought for how much she would have liked to actually see Poseidon’s face. That would've been some story to tell Meredith when she went back to Florida to pack up her studio and retrieve her cat.

Oh, well. Dare could describe it to both of them.

"Poseidon, by the power of this token, I ask to exchange my Wish for Dare’s sea spirit bond with Seranth to be whole again.”

YOU ARE A VERY FOOLISH WOMAN. YOU COULD HAVE ANYTHING IN THE WORLD. ANYTHING FOR YOURSELF. VAST RICHES. POWER. YOUR SIGHT. AND YOU ASK FOR THIS? FOR THAT SCOUNDREL?

“He’s my scoundrel.” She smiled fiercely, even though she felt a few tears rolling down her cheeks. "I don't want riches, or power, or anything else but this. I only want Dare. And I exchange this Wish freely, because Dare is my Christmas miracle. He gave me his whole heart, and I want to give my whole heart back to him."

I HOPE HE CAN DESERVE YOU, WOMAN. VERY WELL. I HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO AGREE. THE MAGIC OF THE WISH IS FAR OLDER THAN MINE.

A cool wind circled her body, twirling up from her feet and then around and around her until it rose past her head and vanished. When the wind was gone, she realized that the heavy weight of the Wish was gone, too. When she wrapped her fingers around the object that had taken its place on her palm, she could tell by the size and shape that it must be the copper band that symbolized Dare's spirit bond with Seranth.

Poseidon had fulfilled his part of their bargain.

Joy filled her soul until she almost worried that she might float right off the balcony. She'd seen inside Dare’s soul; she’d seen his love for her and his longing for the sea. There could be no better gift for this man – her man.

And it was Christmas Eve – a time for miracles. Now all she had to do was wait. And perhaps she'd finish that painting after all and give it to the queen. Because a little Christmas magic had come her way from Riley, too. She walked back into her room, absolutely incandescent with happiness, and wrapped the armband in a scarf and put it under her pillow.

Her only tiny regret was that she wouldn't be able to see the joy on Dare’s face when she gave it to him. She’d feel it, though, in his arms. Oh, how she’d feel it.

And that, after all, was the most important gift of all.