Santa walked down the long ice path into the dark depths inside the prison he created. It held one occupant and had only one cell, but was a vital prison for the safety of the world. When he reached the furthest extent of this place, he looked back to be sure his elves did not see him. His brother stood in front of him, motionless, trapped inside clear ice. Santa reached up and placed his hand on the ice, a green aura lit up around Krampus.
Krampus’s head moved as if the ice weren’t there. He cried out, “Brother... what have you done to me?”
“I had to. You were a danger to this world and to my daughter.”
Krampus glared, “don’t treat me as a fool, brother. It is only your daughter you cared about.”
“If you truly believe that, then you are a greater fool than I thought possible. I love this world. I care about these humans. I do what I do for them, not just Angela. Yes, I feared for her safety from you, but I also feared for all those people you were cursing to kill one another.”
“They were going to kill each other anyway. What I did was only make the pain quicker. You might say I was the more generous of us. Tell me, how goes this Great War of theirs? Did you step in and stop it?”
Santa quietly said, “that war, which is known today as World War One, ended sixty-one years ago.”
“WHAT! How long have you trapped me in this?”
“Sixty-three years. And, I find no pleasure in this, brother. We were once the best of friends. But, you have changed.”
“It is both of us that has changed, dear brother. You would never have considered such an act against me before.”
Santa said, “I did not come to bicker. I wanted to ask you to be my family one more time. Just for the day.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s Angela’s two hundredth birthday. She... she doesn’t know all the evils you have done. She knows you are imprisoned here, but she still harbors the love of her uncle. We are the only family she has ever truly known. I thought, perhaps, you would like to join us in celebrating. I thought you might want to say a real goodbye.”
Krampus scoffed, “to that brat! I should have tossed her in my sack for good when we found her.”
Santa was taken aback, “what? How can you say such a thing?”
“That child changed you. Changed everything between us. You loved helping these pathetic humans, then you raised one and learned to love them, act like they are worthy of us. You bound me in this prison to protect her. You choose her over your own blood. I want nothing to do with her.”
Santa softly said, “she loved you.”
“I don’t care. I have no room in my heart for love of an insect not worth being my servant. Tell her that. Tell her that her beloved Uncle hates her, loathes her and her kind.”
Santa turned from Krampus, “I can’t do that.”
“Then she will be as weak as her little father. You may still have your magic, brother, but you’re still weak. When I get out of here, and I will, I will show this world just how little and pathetic they are. Lord Dragon fears Legion will come, HA! I shall be Legion to these people.”
Santa turned and had his hands up, power running over them. Krampus wheezed and gasped, “I can kill you right now, brother. You are so weak in your powers that it would take a mere thought of mine to execute you.” He tightened his fingers together, squeezing the life out of Krampus. Then he let go and stumbled back. “No... I won’t do it. I won’t be like you.”
Krampus gagged and wheezed, “see... weak.”
Santa waved his hand. The ice returned to normal, and Krampus no longer taunted him. He walked away, whispering, “I shall never see your face again, if I can manage it, brother.”
Santa walked through his workshop, dozens of elves tirelessly taking care of the never-ending job. They smiled at him, but he did not return the joviality. He paused in the middle of the work floor and looked up at a hallway that led to the quarters.
“Cocoa, Mr. Santa?” A little woman elf came up and held out a tray with a steaming silver cup of hot cocoa.
He took the drink and smiled back at her, “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” She scurried off.
He watched her and the others. These creatures he used for this task were as old as this workshop. They weren’t real. He could only sense the basic magic he used to craft them seven centuries ago. They had personalities, thoughts, and emotions. Yet, they were no more than characters from a book, not living, breathing creatures. They were not like the one soul he could sense in this place. Angela was deep in the quarters, sitting in the main room of the palatial suite he called home. As he stretched his powers to sense her, he grew more worried.
“Mr. Santa, is something wrong?” Bernard stopped and asked him.
“Nothing you can help with. Please, excuse me.” He handed the elf the cup and walked down the corridor.
Santa stepped into a room right out of a Christmas painting. The walls were deep brown wood, gold gilded books lined carved wooden shelves. Plush, red and green chairs encircled a low table with holly and candles on it. A mighty fire crackled in a deep hearth, illuminating the room. A light scent of natural woods, wood smoke, and wassail filled his nose.
Angela sat in a deep green velvet chair, reading a book. She flipped pages as she munched on fresh sugar cookies.
“Good afternoon, Angela.”
Sitting up with a burst of motion, she snapped the book closed and pushed it to the side. “Oh, hello father. I was just... reading.”
“Where did you get this book?” Santa came over, a knowing twinkle in his eye.
She blushed and showed him the novel. “I... found it as I scouted yesterday.”
Santa took up the book, “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. An amusing tale?”
“Oh, yes. I would love to visit this factory in the book. They need these special tickets and... are you angry with me?”
Santa sat down across from her. “I gave you the responsibility of helping me scout the world before planning the route for the year. But, each time, you steal more stuff. Why do you do it? I will give you whatever you want.”
“I’m sorry, father. But, there are times I see things that I cannot ask for, since I don’t know what they are. So, I take them. Don’t worry, Uncle Krampus taught me how to take things without people knowing. I’m really good at it.”
“I know you are. I wish you wouldn’t rely in your uncle’s teachings as much as you do. He taught you too many skills I don’t like. Throwing knives, stealing, sneaking.”
Angela asked, “is what Bernard told me true? That I shouldn’t be able to fly your sleigh.”
“When did he tell you this?”
“When I brought it back in after scouting. I asked him to help me fly it into the bay, but he said he couldn’t and that I shouldn’t. It is only supposed to work for you.”
Santa said, “he isn’t wrong, but isn’t right either. That sleigh is very special. You know that. It requires magic to fly, and only those of my kind can fly it. I have... gifted you much magic over the years. Too much, I fear.”
Angela didn’t appear to understand, “oh. Um...so, are we going to have a birthday party? I am excited about this.”
“Yes.” He clapped his hands and a team of elves rushed in with food, gifts, decorations, and all the cheer you would expect to find.
It was a wonderful evening of happiness. They sang songs, gave gifts to Angela, and played little games. One elf presented a special book filled with pictures and paintings of all the birthday parties.
Santa sat with his daughter and flipped through the many pages of images. The elves filled the room to watch as he talked about each special moment. While Angela found this amusing and good fun, Santa grew sad with each passing moment.
“Father, is something the matter?”
Santa wistfully said, “Angela, you have given me a special meaning to Christmas. Each year, we celebrate your birthday just before the holiday. You, my child, were the greatest gift I could ever receive. Two hundred birthdays along now, and I still treasure each year.”
“I love you too, father.”
Santa waved his hand and the elves all filed out of the room. He then motioned for Angela to stand. Taking her hands with his, he said, “I have a special birthday gift for you. One that will change your life.”
“Oh... what is it?”
A tear rolled down his face. “Angela, my sweet, sweet child. There are things in this world that you don’t understand. Evils that are lurking very close. There comes a time when a parent must choose what is right for their child, and not just what makes them happy.”
“What are you saying?”
Santa fought tears and spent a moment gathering himself, “Angela...my...baby girl. You cannot stay here any longer. The power I use to keep you with me is seeping deep into your soul. Soon, you will be a risk to yourself. I cannot keep hiding you from the world and from my kind. I must... I must let you go.”
She pulled away from him, “father! What do you mean?”
“Humans do not live for two hundred years, as you have. They believe I am a myth and that this place doesn’t even exist. I must let you go back to your kind and forget me, forget this place, and especially forget your Uncle.”
“I don’t want to go.” She held her chest, “father...don’t make me leave.”
“It is for your own good, my dear.”
She cried. “Please, don’t do this.”
He came over, took her in his arms and held close. Her weeping stopped as his magic overcame her. Now limp in his arms, he put his face on her shoulder and whispered through his tears, “I will always love you, my daughter.”
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