A Winter's Tale - Book I
Santa's Baby - Winter

As the first snowflake settled, it whispered secrets of a winter tale waiting to unfold.

The name is Winter Claus. I'm the CEO of a multimillion-dollar company referred to as Directive Santa. We're not elves, though that joke is as old as time itself. My company makes sure that every child in the world gets at least one gift on Christmas morning.

Some call it magic, some call it heresy and a myth. My father just calls it his duty and as such it is mine as well. My dear old dad, the man in a suit with a belly full of cookies. The great Santa Claus himself.

No, I'm not here to explain where he came from or how he even exists, so don't ask. I'm here for, well, I guess I'm here to tell my story. The tale of my past and how I came to be here, at the North Pole, running a secret company only a few authority figures in the world know about.

How do we have so much money, you may also be asking. When my father was running things he didn't, not at first. Then my mother came along and she had the financial sense to get their lives stabilized for not just themselves but for the future. She was wise, and with that wisdom came investments and partnerships with people she still won't disclose the names of.

She says I will know one day when I need to and she's too old to run things. We all know that will never happen because she's immortal, the same as my father. Just as the stories of Christmas state, they will live as long as the season's spirit lives on in one child. That's all it takes. One heart to believe and they will continue to look young and ready for anything. Well, younger.

The caveat is that all of their children are immortal as well. So far there are ten of us. I'm the oldest, but I won't claim to be the wisest. I was simply the first to want to help my mother with the finances, being the firstborn helped a little. The first to draw blueprints for houses and a warehouse with fortified doors and weatherproofed walls and such. With my mother and father's help, we built the city of the North Pole.

Its inhabitants consist of my family, wild animals my father likes to speak to, and a few immortal creatures. The misfits, as one of my brothers calls them. Beings rejected by the world and their own and left to replace their way, they end up here. For some reason this place is like a beacon to them, calling to their lonely hearts. We build a home for each of them in exchange for their help and over the decades our population has grown.

Like I said before, I am the oldest. After eleven years of being the only child, my mother brought my brother Nicholas into the world. Then came Noel, Yukio, Jack, Ember, Eirwen, Holly, Douglas, and Whittaker. We fight like most siblings, but we never leave without saying I love you.

My parents taught us early on that our family is immortal and therefore we will always have one another by our sides. However, we can die. It has never happened, but it can, or so Father warns us. So we must cherish each other and remember that every time we say goodbye it could be our last.

Anyways, off the doom and gloom. Back to myself, which sounds self-centered but it's what you're here for so don't patronize me. I have decades of life I could speak about. How I grew up watching my father shift from widdling out wooden toys to crafting glass and metal. How he knows the ins and outs of all electronics as if it's second nature now.

I could talk about my father forever because he's a saint and a true craftsman. Maybe another time I could tell you about how he met my mother and his fight with a Yeti. Or how mother made him apologize to said Yeti and now they're best of friends. Yeah, weird stuff, but interesting!

Still, yet again, you're here for me. Good lord, me. I guess I could start with my childhood. How I was doted on like a princess for years before my mother put her foot down and stopped my father from turning me into a spoiled brat. At least that's how she defends her actions. She's probably right. She almost always is.

Daddy's little girl. Even after he pushed me more into my independence and learning everything I could from my mother, I stayed at his side. How could I not? Everything he touches turns magically into something I could never dream of. He fixes things like it's a walk in the park, but he's always humble and never brags.

He makes ice roses for Mother, plans outlandish dates that she always loves, is thoughtful and makes sure she's well rested and taken care of, and loves her endlessly. He's never set his eyes on anyone but her.

Mother, she's no different. She's always doting on father, taking his boots and coat off when he gets home and making sure his meals are warm and ready. Hot cocoa by the fire and a thick blanket to keep him protected from the cold. She sews his clothes, mends his shoes, and they always go to bed holding hands and smiling.

A love for the ages. An immortal tale of loyalty and heart getting them through the good and the bad. A huge reason for my long-lasting singlehood. I've seen all the romance movies and read the books, but nothing could ever live up to the everlasting fairytale that is my parent's relationship.

My siblings seemed to be in the same boat because for decades now they have learned everything they could from our mother and father and taken on roles to help the family. Alone. Together as siblings, a family, but alone.

We always ate dinner together and shared our daily joys and woes. When one of us wasn't sure of something they had an endless supply of love and support to work through their issues. I shouldn't complain, none of us should. It is the way our family functions, no problem too great for the Claus's.

Still, we were lonely. Ten grown adults, all with our own personalities. Wants and desires we wish to share with another person, just like what mother and father have. Our parents could see our falling spirits as well, though they were unsure how to help us.

In truth, they were very lucky to replace one another, able to live together in immortal happiness. It was fate's plan, I suppose, because without my mother my father may not have had the spirit to do what he does so well.

So maybe I should start there, with fate. A force of nature, a deity perhaps? A breeze lifting one kindred soul toward another? Whatever you believe it to be, just know it is real. It is what starts my story, in the cold snow of the North Pole.