Chapter Text
It's not every day that the North Pole Council gets called into session, but when Santa's received their third trespassing violation in three years, it's a little warranted.
Maybe I should start from the beginning. Hi! My name is Anna Kringle, and I also happen to be Santa Claus.
…okay, maybe I should start before the beginning.
For centuries, one of the most heated, long-disputed disputes has been whether Santa Claus is real or not. There are legitimate debates hosted about it, books published by "experts" collect dust in libraries, and there are countless videos trying to debunk Santa's chore list. Eventually, logic won out and the general public concluded that Santa isn't real, he couldn't be. After all, how could he zoom around the world in one night giving toys to a growing population of children? How is he able to slip in and out of houses with his big ol' belly ever getting caught on a lamp or nightstand? What criteria did he use to decide if someone was naughty or nice and is it even reliable? Nothing made sense, and soon Santa Claus became a myth tucked away in Christmas movies and Coke commercials.
But here's the thing: Santa Claus? The elves and reindeer? The North Pole? It's all real, and the proof is running through my veins.
Our family has run this whole Christmas thing for as long as there have been jingle bells and candy canes. My dad was Santa Claus, and so was his dad before him, and his dad before him, and his dad before him, and...well you get the point. We're okay with people believing that Santa is a "myth" because it allows us to operate with so much peace and privacy. The less people that believe we're real, the better the magic is.
And that's the reason for the season: magic. It makes the impossible possible, it's what cloaks Santa under the cover of night as he tiptoes into living rooms to leave a little something extra under the tree, it's what lets him know the names of every child on Earth and their true nature, it's what keeps him running all night on just milk and cookies.
Being Santa Claus is a privilege, and my dad was the best of them all. But on New Year's Eve three years ago, he passed away. With no other living heirs, the task fell on me to become the new Santa Claus. It's not illegal or anything for Santa to be a woman, but it's incredibly rare. There hadn't been a female Santa in nearly a thousand years.
I was eager and ready to show everything my dad had taught me…but I guess I was a little too eager. On my first night on the job, I almost fell off the sleigh trying to pull off a complicated aerial maneuver, I added another crack to the Liberty Bell in Philadelphia, and I got caught sneaking out of a window in Costa Rica. Stupid Isabella and her tiny bladder.
After that, I was charged for "trespassing", which is one of the worst violations a Santa can ever commit. If you're lucky, you only receive one or two of those violations in your lifetime.
I currently have three.
That's why I find myself in a stuffy courtroom on an uncomfortable chair while the North Pole Council is leering at me from their cushiony podiums. With their red, hooded robes, they look more like a candy cane cult than a governing body, but I don't tell them that.
"Anna Kringle," one of the cult members states. "You have been summoned by the North Pole Council to discuss your most recent charge of trespassing."
"Ah really? I thought you guys just wanted to catch up," I say with a chuckle. When they stay stone-faced, I clear my throat and add, "Not the time for jokes, got it."
I haven't seen any of these guys since my inauguration, and they were wearing their hoods then too. The only familiar member of the council, my aunt, speaks next. "As you already know, the North Pole relies on its secrecy to deal with the ever-growing demands year after year. If too many people start questioning our existence again-"
I sigh, "It could bring us back to another Dark Age, I know."
My aunt gives me a supportive frown, but she doesn't say anything else. Another member with a rather nasally voice pipes up, "In all my years, I have never encountered a Santa Claus as reckless as you! What would your father think?"
This little…
Unable to help myself, I bite back, "He'd probably wonder why a stuffy, old goat like you is still taking up a council seat."
He scoffs, "So young, so disrespectful. If I had my way, you'd be stripped of the Claus title already."
"Well, it's a good thing it's not only up to you." I cross my arms and turn my attention to the others. "Look, in my defense, this third violation isn't even my fault. The McCallisters were supposed to be gone for vacation, how was I supposed to know they left their kid at home again?"
"Anna, you knocked him out with sleeping powder," my aunt points out.
"Which is supposed to be used for emergencies!" I raise my hands in frustration and wince, my ribs still hurt from the pool ball that brat shot me with. "Does that not count as an emergency?"
"And why exactly were you getting off your sled during a midterm practice run?"
"No one expects Santa to show up to their house in June, I thought I was in the clear." I scratch my cheek and mumble, "Also, I…kinda needed to pee."
The third and most neutral council member brings us all back to the task at hand. "Let's get back to the task at hand," he says.
"Yes. Let's do that," Nasal Voice says.
"Three violations in three years is unprecedented," Mr. Neutral says. "The Santa Claus Code dictates that five trespassing violations are grounds for termination, but we have discussed this issue and have decided that action must be taken now rather than later."
I straighten up in my chair, trying to remain as stoic as my dad used to be before he'd get on the sleigh. What I wouldn't give for him to actually be here right now…
All eyes turn to my aunt and she gives the edict. "The North Pole Council has hereby placed you, Anna Kringle, on probation. Effective immediately."
Oh no!
...oh no?
I raise an eyebrow, "Uh, what does that mean?"
"It means you will be placed under strict supervision over the next six months as you go off-base to perform a mandatory task. Failure to complete the task will result in you being stripped of your Santa Claus status."
I shoot out of my chair and it clunks onto the hard wooden floor. "What?! That's insane! You guys said that I have five strikes until I'm terminated. I'm not good with math, but I'm pretty sure three is less than five."
Mr. Neutral clears his throat and answers, "Given your progress over the last three years, we've concluded that you have been far too reckless with the job and any further violations could severely impact the work we all do here."
"This is so unfair! I demand a re-trial."
"Anna, you're not on trial," my aunt corrects.
"I might as well be!"
"Ms. Kringle, you have been given your orders." Mr. Neutral gives her a look that shows he's judging her but also sympathizes with her. Sure, that's easy for him to do, he's not the one on trial. "If you do not accept the terms, we will instead move on to finding your replacement."
It's my turn to scoff. "So, even if I agree, there's still a chance I'm not going to be Santa Claus anyway? That doesn't seem like much of a choice."
"You brought this on yourself," says Nasal Voice. The urge to bean him with a lump of coal right now is strong.
"Your answer, Ms. Kringle?"
I want some time to think but there's not much to think about. I don't care what anyone says, I'm a great Santa Claus. My dad taught me everything I know and if people would just give me a chance, I could live up to his legacy. But I can't do that if I'm no longer allowed to put on the suit. I sigh and mutter, "Fine, I'll do the stupid probation thing."
Mr. Neutral nods, "I'm glad you'll listen to reason."
"Whatever. What do I even have to do?"
My aunt is the one to give me my assignment. "You will report to a new location, via teleporter, that you will stay in for the next six months. While you will still have your powers, you will have no means of returning home until the time is up." She holds up a folder that fades away and reappears in front of Anna. "During that time, you are to find and make contact with this POI."
POI: Person of Interest. I open the folder and am immediately greeted with a picture of a little blonde girl, maybe seven or eight, wearing a reindeer onesie and giving the camera a toothy smile.
"Her name is Elsie Denersan. An eight-year-old girl obsessed with astronomy. Don't be fooled by the smile, she's been the closest person to figure out the existence of the North Pole in decades. She's smart, observant, and surveillance shows that she's built a machine that can supposedly track the magical presence of Santa Claus."
I find a picture of the machine underneath a couple of others. It's…I hold the picture up exasperated. "This is a telescope."
"A telescope built with parts of Santa's sleigh that broke off during one of your runs," Nasal Voice accuses.
Alright, that's fair.
I put the picture down and change the subject. "So I go in, tell this little girl Santa isn't real, and we all live happily ever after. Is that right?"
"This will not be as easy as you think it will be," Mr. Neutral warns. "Elsie has had many people over the years dissuade her of our existence. Her teachers, her friends, and even her own sister have tried to convince her as much. But it's like she takes these rejections as a challenge. She's determined to find you, and we're sending you right to her."
"This will be the hardest thing you'll ever have to do as Santa Claus," my aunt says.
I look at Elsie's picture again, there's nothing in her eyes that screams "potential threat". In fact, she's downright adorable. Chances are these guys are just overhyping her to try and freak me out, but it won't work. I'm Anna Freaking Kringle, and gosh darn it if I have to crush a little girl's dreams to remain as Santa Claus then so be it.
Closing the folder, I give the council a determined look of my own. "Just you wait. This POI is gonna turn into a PONI."
"What?"
"Person of No Interest…it sounded cooler in my head."
"...you have three hours to pack."
It's easy enough packing everything I need into my own personal Santa Sack (patent pending), since the bag is a literal bottomless pit I don't need to be picky about what I should take. After checking my list twice to ensure that I packed my heated blanket and weighted blanket, I sling it over my shoulder and make my way downstairs ready to set off on my great journey/probation period.
However, I'm stopped by the reasonably upset figure of my mom blocking the front door. She's crossing her arms, toying with a few strands of her brown hair, and looking at everything else but me. This is a level of anxiety from her I haven't seen since my first Santa run.
I sigh lovingly, "Mom, I'm gonna be late."
"You have time," she mutters.
"Yeah, like ten minutes. And you know Aunt Gerda's a real stickler for punctuality."
"You let me worry about my sister," she says, still refusing to look at me.
I slide off my bag for the moment and lay my hands on her arms. We've grown closer since my dad passed away, so this isn't the first time I've had to be the one she needed to lean on. "It's only six months, mom. Think of it as…I don't know, like I'm back in college!"
A couple seconds of silence pass, then my mom looks down at our shoes and says softly, "We both know that's not what this is."
Unsure of what to say next, I pull my mom in for a hug and hold her tight. Soon enough she's hugging me back and breathing shakily. "I'll be back before you know it," I assure her.
We stay like this for another minute. Once my mom has calmed down enough, she lets me go and says, "I packed you some food for the road."
My eyes light up, "Did you make snickerdoodles?"
She chuckles, "Of course."
The food lies spread out across the dinner table, it's a whole summertime Christmas Eve feast. She helps me put it all in the knapsack and it slides into the void with no problems. The best is saved for last: a large tin of freshly-baked snickerdoodles with a bow on top. After one more long embrace, I make my way out of the house and towards the portal at the center of the town square.
Aunt Gerda is waiting there for me with her hands clasped in front of her velvet, buttoned-up coat, looking as professional as always. "You're late," she says pointedly.
I put up my hands, "Well excuse me for wanting to take some time to say goodbye to my mom."
My aunt frowns, "This has to be done. I hope she knows that."
"I'm sure you'll explain that to her when I'm gone." I look at the portal, its shimmering, blue surface corralled by the stone archway. This is really only used as an exit point for other mystical beings, Santas rarely ever have to use it due to the whole "having a sled" thing.
"While you're on your mission, the council will take care of your duties here. Regardless if you're successful or not, Christmas will run as planned."
"Thank you for showing so much faith in me," I say while rolling my eyes.
She ignores me, obviously, and gestures to the portal. "This will take you right across the street from your apartment-slash-safehouse. Our scouting elves have ensured you will not be seen coming out of the portal, but as soon as you make it through it will be up to you to remain inconspicuous."
"They checked for drones too, right?"
"Yes."
"Even the Amazon ones?"
"Especially the Amazon ones."
I roll my shoulders and take a deep breath, "Alright then, I guess I'm ready."
Finally, my aunt's visage as a council member drops, and she places a steady hand on the top of my head- a comforting gesture she used to do when I was younger. "Anna…stay safe."
Unable to help myself, I complete the gesture by patting her hand and giving her a smile that I hope is convincing. "I always do," I tell her before stepping through the portal.
For a moment, all I see is blue and all I feel is the cold, North Pole air at my back. But then that blue light turns into a blinding white and the air gets significantly warmer. The white light swirls and spins, coming in and out of focus so fast that I almost trip over myself. And just as suddenly as the light arrived, so does it fade.
As the dizziness subsides (an unfortunate side effect of teleportation), I try to take stock of where I am. The sky is no longer a burst of colors, but instead a canvas of light blue with clouds speckled around it. The puffy, powdery snow has been replaced with dirt and thinly-cut grass. Mountain sounds and sleigh bells are long gone, in its place are the sounds of rushing cars and…no, that's about it. And though the air has thickened it also has overtones of gasoline and dust mixed into the smell.
I check the location on my phone, and even though I'm in the right place it doesn't exactly fill me with joy. I put my phone away and sigh, "Welcome to Phoenix, Anna Kringle."