Page 7 of Velveteen vs. The Consequences of Her Actions

The only way out was forward. “I do,” she said.

Aurora smiled. “Good,” she said. “Then we begin.”

* * *

The sky over Santa’s Village was clear. Too clear, almost: there were normally a few cotton candy clouds dotting the horizon, completing the picture book scene that the pastoral little town presented. Image and idea were everything here, and how many children who had drawn the village had given it perfectly clear, perfectly cloudless skies? The lights danced and shimmered overhead, painting everything in blue and green and purple, the colors of a great and beautiful bruise.

“She may not come,” said the Snow Queen again. There was a faint touch of sorrow in her tone. Jack Frost glanced at his wife—so beautiful and so alien, even after their centuries together; he loved her as a candle loves a flame, and knew that even if they were together until the end of time, she would never love him half so fiercely. She never could.

But that wasn’t to say she didn’t know how to love. She knew, for all that she might have wished she didn’t. She could be hurt, and hurt badly, because it was so hard for her to love at all. “She’ll come,” he said. This won’t have been for nothing.

It wouldn’t have been for nothing. It couldn’t possibly have been for enough.

The lights overhead shifted and danced, and the sound of feet on hard-packed snow drifted through the clear air. Feet; paws; hooves, sharp and slicing through the frosted crust like so many icy knives. Finally, the sound of a sleigh, skating over the snow on polished runners, like a whisper of oncoming pain. Santa Claus straightened. Beside him, Mrs. Claus did the same. The Snow Queen, who had never slumped, stood proud and tall and waiting, eyes narrowed as she watched the horizon.

Only Jack Frost allowed himself the momentary respite of closed eyes and bowed shoulders, accepting what this meant, what this had always meant. She was coming. The heart of Winter had looked at her and found her sufficient…and what had been taken would not be returned.

When he opened his eyes, the first of the snow beasts was cresting over the hill and beginning its descent into the village. Great white stags with antlers of ice; hopping white rabbits with brown pine cone tails. It was a miraculous sight, enough to steal even the most hardened soul’s breath away. The procession went on for what seemed like hours, with great snow bears and towering snow moose following their smaller brethren out of the trees.

Finally, just as the wonder was beginning to wear off, four vast snow reindeer appeared. They were crowned with antlers made of evergreen boughs, and their breath left no heat trails in the air. They were pulling a sleigh made of vine-worked ice and snow, and sitting in that sleigh was a woman, as white as the snow that surrounded her, dressed in green holly and brown bark and spreading mistletoe. She was beautiful. She was terrible. She was familiar, and she was strange.

Santa stepped forward. He was their emissary, after all, and had been for centuries, ever since he had stepped up and taken the mantle of Winter as his own.

“Hello, my dear,” he said. “You’re looking well. I’m glad to see you made it through the Winter unscathed, and can now begin your term of service.”

“I’m made of snow, you asshole,” Velveteen replied. “If this is what you consider ‘unscathed,’ I’m glad as fuck you never had kids. What the fuck?”

“Language, please,” chided Mrs. Claus. She fell back a step when Velveteen turned her icy glare on the older woman. Voice smaller now, she said, “We have to think of the children. They look on Winter as a place of wonder and delight.”

“Your ‘place of wonder and delight’ just tried to freeze me to death,” said Velveteen. She stood. Two of her snowmen hurried to help her down from the sleigh. When she stepped onto the surface of the snow, her feet left no impressions; it was as if she weighed as little as the wind. She stalked forward, and although she was stomping, she left no tracks behind her. Pointing her index finger at Santa Claus, she snarled, “I said I’d serve you. I didn’t say I’d die for you. You cheated.”

“No, my dear, I didn’t,” said Santa. There was genuine regret in his voice. Velveteen was just too upset to hear it. “You never asked me what service would entail.”

“Would you have told me if I’d asked?”

Santa said nothing. His silence was more than answer enough.

Velveteen shook her head, disgusted. “Great. Swell. Swell and great and dandy. Where’s Jackie?” She turned to Jack Frost and the Snow Queen. “Shouldn’t she be here to celebrate finally getting me all the way into the Winter? Maybe she can explain why I shouldn’t call the whole thing off right now.”

“Jackie isn’t here,” said Jack Frost. “She would distract you from fulfilling your duties to the season. You’re too close, and we want you to make your choice fairly. You don’t have friends in Spring or Autumn, after all.”

“So you sent away the only person I’m not seriously pissed off at, because you thought it would make the choice more fair? Wow. You’re not just assholes, you’re stupid assholes. When you talk to Jackie next, tell her it’s your fault I’m probably not going to choose you.” Velveteen turned back to Santa Claus, still glaring. “All right. I’m here. I’ve met your precious Aurora, and she’s told me that the only way out is forward. So tell me what to do. I am in your service. Put me to work.”

“I had hoped that you might resent us less for asking you to keep your word,” said Santa, slowly.

“If you wanted me to resent you less, you should have warned me,” Velveteen replied. “What do you want me to do?”

Santa sighed. “Is this how things are going to be between us?”

“Let me check and see if I’m still made of snow,” said Velveteen. She looked down at one dead white arm, and then back up at Santa Claus. “Yup. This is how things are going to be.”

“Very well then,” he said. “Follow me.” Santa turned to walk deeper into the village. Velveteen started after him, as behind her, the army of winter creatures crumbled back into the landscape, leaving nothing but branches and churned-up snow.

The Snow Queen waited until the pair was out of earshot before she said, “The girl is strong. She’ll be an asset, if she chooses to stay.”

“She’ll be a problem until she chooses to go,” said Mrs. Claus. She shook her head. “I’ve always liked that child, but I have a bad feeling about this. She isn’t choosing Winter the right way. She’s forcing Winter to choose her. That doesn’t sit well with me.”

“We’ve already paid enough,” said Jack, and there was a bleak viciousness in his voice that spoke to all the winds of all the world. “She had best choose us.”