Archive of Our Own

March 1732, North Pole

It had started with their dying father.

No, that wasn't right. It had started earlier, if he was being honest with himself. Far earlier. When Stephan Clifton had put on the red jacket the dying man who had looked an awful lot like Father Christmas had offered him. As it would happen, the man was Father Christmas, and Stephan had become the next Father Christmas.

His wife and children had been there for him the entire year he had undergone the transformation. He had never hidden it from them. Nor his brother and father. They had found it far-fetched, of course, and James had begun to bargain with their father—calling Stephan senile, not of sound mind, begging Lord Clifton to make James the heir instead of his crazy elder brother.

But Lord Clifton had been steadfast in his resolve. He knew Stephan was better suited to take on all of the responsibilities landowners like the Cliftons had. The accounts, the estates, the tenants, the farms—Stephan could keep it all balanced. He and his wife were very good at that sort of thing.

James's jealousy had begun to grow at that point. It only worsened when (after Stephan had proven to his father that he really was Father Christmas that very first Christmas) Stephan "moved to the colonies to further business for the family" with their father's blessing. Not only did Lord Clifton trust Stephan to be their overseas rep, but he trusted Lady Beatrice to take care of the accounts! It was a man's work, Stephan recalled his brother saying, to which Bea had given him a very good piece of her mind.

Lord Clifton only worsened after that, and Stephan had gone back and forth to see his father as much as possible, when time permitted. But Lord Clifton passed on, and Stephan inherited the title, and then the troubles really began.

James had tried to seize control, going so far as to alter the will—which was still being contested. It had William's signature saying he was of sound mind, but that close to his passing? It was strange, everyone agreed. But with the physician's records sealed, it seemed as though he would be stuck at a standstill with James for quite some time.

Stephan had been trying his best to get answers from James, knowing full well he had the records somewhere. But James was stubborn and believed he deserved to be taking control since Stephan was busy "playing make belief" in the Americas.

And now, James had gone too far.

Beatrice had sent him a letter, stained with tears and with very messy writing, as well as quite vulgar language. James had, apparently, come into Clifton Manor and taken the deed. He considered the manor as good as his, now that he literally held the deed. According to Beatrice, if she and Stephan didn't relinquish all control of estates to James, he would have her out on the streets as soon as possible.

Stephan had written back and told her he would take care of it, and he was. James had gone too far and now, it was time Stephan went a little further.

"You wanted to see me, Santa?"

"Yes! I did! You always know when I have need of you," Stephan said, tapping his head and sitting down. He gestured across the desk at the plush chair.

"It's one of the perks of the job," Bernard replied, a little sarcastically as he sat down. "What's going on?"

Such a strange manner of speaking, Stephan thought, before clearing his throat. "You are well aware of the struggles I've been having with my brother, yes?"

"Of course."

"Well, I'm afraid he's gone too far, Bernard."

"Is Beatrice okay? The kids?"

"For now. Take a look at this," Santa passed his wife's letter over to him. "It arrived about an hour ago."

Bernard shook it open and scanned the page. He frowned as he read through, looking thoroughly upset by the time he finished it. "I can have ELFS bring your wife and kids up here, where they'll be safe—"

"No," Santa said, hand raised in the universal stop motion. "They don't like it here. They prefer to be at home."

Bernard couldn't really understand how they'd prefer a dirty city over a clean, clear, and happier place like Elfsburg, but he and Santa had had this discussion plenty of times before, so he decided it was probably best he left that well enough alone. Instead, he nodded. "Right."

"I've been working on James, trying to get him to tell me where he has put everything we would need to put this matter at rest. He's been persistent in his refusal and now this. I can only presume he has the deed with the other ledgers he has taken." Santa paused, taking a deep breath in. "I need a very big favour, Bernard. I know it may not be in your job description but—"

"Actually, it is."

"Oh?"

"As your Head Elf, you can send me out on special errands if you need it. It's not like I haven't done stuff like this before," he said, with a cheeky grin and a shrug. "Give me the finer details and I can probably get what you need."

"I need you to retrieve the deed to Clifton Manor, by any means necessary."

Bernard looked thoughtful for a bit, before giving a curt nod. "Yeah. Sounds simple enough. Any idea where it is?"

"My guess would be at the hunting lodge in the country. It was always his preferred residence of the many the family has held."

"What about all the other things that would help put the matter of inheritance to rest?"

"The deed takes precedence, Bernard. I need to keep my family safe."

"Understood."

Bernard could tell that Santa was very worried, and wouldn't care to talk about what would make his family permanently safe. Like, moving them up here and letting James take over, for instance. Or better yet, finding what was stopping them from stopping James, and gift wrapping the end of this nasty family feud for Santa. This was one of the worst feuds that Bernard had seen, and some of the past Santa's had had some pretty bad ones. Well, the ones that came from upper class, mostly.

"…although," Santa continued, after a brief bout of silence. "If you do happen to find the physician's records, or the ledgers for the accounts, or anything that can help me stop this nonsense…that would be appreciated as well. Not necessary, though. But appreciated."

"You got it, boss," Bernard said, getting up. He wondered if he should grab his jacket before he left—unless he poofed directly into the lodge. "Do you have an exact location?"

"I do." Santa shuffled some papers on his desk, revealing a map of the English countryside. He pointed at a fairly remote spot. "It's right here. It's on a hill and is surrounded by forests, of course. After all, it is the hunting lodge."

Bernard made note of the latitude and longitude, and nodded. "I'll get right on that." He'd grab his jacket before leaving, he decided—better safe than sorry. The countryside could be brutal with wind chill, and since it was a new place his mark could be off.

Santa looked incredibly relieved. "You have my immense thanks."

"It's not a problem, Santa. Really." And he meant it. Bernard was fond of this Santa and his family. He had met Mrs. Claus and the kids a handful of times, and quite enjoyed watching Mrs. Claus tear up nasty people. She had no tolerance for anything naughty and was not afraid to speak her mind—and all three kids were always on the nice list, and stuck up for the little guy. They were fairly well-rounded coming from a noble class, which was a nice change. "It's my job," he added, shifting his weight, hands behind his back. "Anything else, or can I get going?"

"No, that will be all. Thank you again, Bernard."

Bernard replied with a curt nod before leaving the office.

March 1732, England

Despite their family feud being the talk of the ton, and the rumour of the deed to Clifton Manor being taken by one Mr. James Clifton, Lady Beatrice Clifton was keeping up a great public face. It was early in the season, but Lady Beatrice always got a head start. Her March Soiree was almost like a prelude to the season in the city, and many socialites looked forward to it.

Lords and Ladies of all sort were in no short supply. Quite a few Dukes and Duchesses, of course. A few Barons, the Dowager Countess of Barley, Viscountess Mistwatch, and the elusive Lady Frost were all in attendance tonight. Beatrice had gotten all of those gathered in London for the season that were much sought out after and brought them all together in one place.

Inside, the ballroom was crowded with ladies in their wide dresses. A band played and the floor was clear for dancing, with many attendees already breaking it in for the season. There was a scramble to fill dance cards, single men and women scoping out the scene to see who had eyes for who, which members of the ton would be most sought after, and to get a glimpse of the new debutantes. Speculation on how the season would go ran rampant throughout the ballroom that night.

Lady Beatrice was making rounds. She stopped at each group and talked for a bit, asking how they were and making sure they were finding everything okay. It helped distract her from her own problems. For the rumours were all true, and Beatrice had no idea what would happen next. She had written to her husband up North, and for the time that was enough. She knew deep down that Stephan would come through. He always delivers, after all. She laughed to herself.

"Lady Beatrice! Fancy sharing what has you laughing?" Lady Alexandra asked. She stood in a group alongside Lady Pauline "Polly" Parks, Lady Polly's Aunt, the Viscountess Mistwatch, and the mysterious Lady Frost.

"I was just thinking of Stephan, and some of the laughs we've shared." She sighed. "I do so miss him."

"Oh, you and Lord Clifton are so in love! I hope to find that same spark one day," Lady Polly said.

"I'm sure you will now, dear," the Viscountess replied, patting Polly's shoulder. "This year will be different, I am sure of it!"

"I have that with my Jacob," Lady Alexandra began. Lady Beatrice couldn't help but notice Lady Frost roll her eyes at this and sip her drink. Bea almost snorted. It was an apt reaction.

"Oh for goodness's sake, Alexandra, we are well aware of how in love you and Lord Jacob are. Please, give us a break," The Viscountess said.

Bea cleared her throat, drawing attention away from Lady Alexandra. "I hope you ladies are finding everything well this evening."

"Oh, absolutely! You have almost all of London here tonight, it couldn't be better, Lady Clifton."

"I am so glad to hear that, Lady Parks," Bea said. "How about you, Lady Frost? I know you've recently come back from abroad, and I do hope this isn't too much for you. I'm delighted you came!"

"Lady Clifton, I would never miss one of your parties," Lady Frost said, with an amiable smile. "It'll serve as a lovely reintroduction to society."

"I say, you make it sound as though you've been in an entirely different world, Lady Frost," Lady Alexandra butted in.

"Oh, here and there. I was down in the Caribbean, had a spell in the Spanish Main. Went to a lovely island with a friend of mine, and just came back from a sojourn in the Azores." She sipped her drink. "The social scenes are quite different in every one of those locales."

"Oh my! Aren't there pirates down there?" Polly gasped, continuing excitedly. "Did you see one?"

Lady Frost coloured a bit. "Something like that, yes. But they were no match for me, of course."

The Viscountess smiled fondly. "That fighting spirit legendary to your family was passed down to you, I see."

Lady Frost laughed like she had a secret. A secret she was privy to that the others were not. It was not malicious, though. It was quite charming, really. She smiled over the rim of her glass. "Something like that, yes."

"Fighting spirit?"

"Oh my dear niece, I forget how poorly your introduction to society went. You don't know all of the stories!" The Viscountess put her hand to her head, looking genuinely distraught, Bea noted. "I do believe Lady Frost could recount the tales far better than I ever could."

"Actually Viscountess, if you would be so kind? I'd love to see how the stories have changed in my absence."

"Oh, if you insist," she replied, giving Bea the sense that she had wanted to from the beginning, but was being polite. "Back in either the thirteenth or fourteenth century, the crown came to Frost Abbey, hoping to claim the land and give it away to one of the court, as they did back then. Lady Frost, though at the time she would have been just known as Jacqueline, I presume?"

"Yes, we didn't get the title until she made her claim. I was named for her," Lady Frost added, almost as an afterthought.

"What did she do?" Polly asked, excitement in her eyes.

Bea could relate. She too was enthralled with the story. The Viscountess had a way with words, and there was something about this story that gave her a warm, familiar feeling. To be quite frank, it often reminded her of the feeling she got when she was in her husband's world.

"Well, she would not have the crown seizing the land. She had turned it into a refuge of sorts, you see. For those that society cast out, or was less than pleasant to."

"How do you mean?"

The Viscountess paused, unsure how to reply to her niece.

"Women—and men—accused of witchcraft, dealings with the fey, of being fey, that sort of thing, mostly. As well as regular non magibeans that were cast out for the usual reasons. Scandal and what have you. Great Grandmother couldn't stand to see people attacked for such silly reasons."

"Magibeans? What an odd word."

"Did I say magibeans? My apologies, Lady Alexandra. You must have misheard me! I meant to say magical beings, for that's what fey are, are they not?"

"Why, Lady Frost! Do you hear yourself? It sounds as though you may be away with the fey right now!" Lady Alexandra trilled, laughing loudly.

Lady Frost looked unamused.

"I think it's a rather quaint phrase, magibean. Cute, too," Beatrice cut in.

Lady Frost sent a thankful look her way. The hostess smiled in return.

"I suppose," Lady Alexandra sounded as though she did not agree at all but did not want to ruin her standing with one of the most influential women of the ton.

"So, the crown comes to seize the property, and your great-great-great-great-great-great-great? Grandmother?"

"That sounds right."

"So she comes out and stands her ground. What happened next? Frost Abbey is your main place of residence so I suppose she got to keep it. But how?" Lady Polly asked. She was hooked on the story, and she wasn't the only one, Bea thought. Even Lady Alexandra was listening, though she tried to feign a look of disinterest.

"Well. The Guard came, demanded the property, and my Great Grandmother said she would happily give up the property if they could beat her in a fight."

"All at once?" Beatrice asked. The number of soldiers sent in a group like that—how did she do it?

"So the stories go," The Viscountess said, Lady Frost nodding in agreement.

"And obviously, she won. So how did she manage that?" Lady Alexandra asked.

"She froze them solid, of course," Lady Frost replied, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Now Bea one hundred percent felt as though she were in her husband's world. She was thrown for a moment, though the other women were not. They laughed and laughed, cries of "Oh jolly good, Lady Frost!" And "You are too funny, Lady Frost!" Ringing out. It has to be a coincidence! surely she couldn't be... Bea thought. She shook her head. No, no, she couldn't! Absolutely not! It wouldn't make a lick of sense, Bea reassured herself.

...or would it?

The band started up then, starting Bea out of her thoughtful reverie. A bespectacled gentleman approached the group as the dance floor slowly began to fill. 

"Oh! Jacob! I must go at once. He has the first dance on my card," Lady Alexandra giggled. "Adieu ladies! And good luck, Polly!" With a cherry little wave, she left the group to join her husband on the dance floor.

Lady Frost sipped her drink. "I do wish she'd shut up."

"Lady Frost!"

"Lady Parks, she is absolutely intolerable at times!"

Ah, the gossip of the ton. Bea found herself feeling almost normal again. "I find myself in agreement. She can be, at times. The only reason she's here is because I rather like Jacob, myself. He's very for the people, which I quite like. He's looking to run for office next term. He has great prospects and ideas. He's also a far better conversationalist than his lovely wife. I think she tries a little too hard to be liked by everyone."

"I bet that her entire dance card is just him. Just, straight down the thing. Jacob, Jacob, Jacob."

Both Polly and her Aunt snorted, hiding their laughter behind their fans.

"You're a riot, Lady Frost."

"I try."

Bea chuckled. With a content sigh, she turned to the Viscountess and her niece. "I hope you don't mind me asking, for I fear I may be a bit blunt, but I must know! Where is that brother of yours?"

Lady Frost's sudden tensing of the shoulders nearly went unnoticed.

"Oh, Bea, don't get me started! He's so—I can't even believe!" Lady Polly huffed, her face turning red.

"Oh dear, I do apologize, I didn't mean to—"

"Nonsense, Bea, it's quite alright." The Viscountess patted Polly's shoulder. "I've decided to chaperone Polly myself this season. Quite frankly, I should have done so when she first entered society. Mathew can be such a nuisance."

"Ambrose! Over here please! Thank you, dear. I just need to get Lady Polly a drink."

"Certainly. Here you go, Ma'am," Ambrose said, pulling a drink off of the platter and handing it to the Lady of the house.

"My thanks, Ambrose."

He gave a bow. "Of course, my lady," and continued on his rounds, Lady Frost switching out her own glass before he left.

"A nuisance doesn't even begin to describe how awful he is!" Lady Polly continued, after taking a deep drink. She was fired up, her eyes watery. Lady Frost whipped out a handkerchief, passing it to Polly as Bea and The Viscountess moved closer to the young woman.

"Thank you, Lady Frost."

"Please, call me Jacqueline. I've had my fair share of brotherly woes, myself."

"Really?"

"Yes." She finished off glass number two, and frowned. "I haven't seen him in nearly ten hundred years."

"Ten hundred?" Polly asked.

"I'm sure Lady Frost meant ten years?" Bea said, getting that funny feeling again.

"It feels like it's been ten hundred years, though."

"You must have been quite young then, when you last saw your own brother."

"About five, I should think. If that's been ten years, then...yes, about five. I'm sorry, we're off topic. Polly—if I may call you so?"

"Oh! Oh, absolutely, Jacqueline! If I may."

"But of course!" the girl smiled, leaning forward. "If you'd like to talk, I'm here to listen."

"There was a bit of a falling out, you see," The Viscountess began.

"I finally put my foot down!" Crushing Jacqueline's handkerchief between her hands, Polly took over, dabbing at her eyes every so often. "It took me so long but I finally realized the reason my seasons haven't been very successful in the way of connections, or friends, or matters of the heart," she added, glancing over at Lady Alexandra and Lord Jacob (who did indeed look very in love, with eyes only for one another), "Wasn't because of me, or things I've done! It was because of my brother!"

"Oh?" Lady Jacqueline spoke in such a manner that Bea suspected there was far more than interest in the young woman's simple phrase.

"Indeed. Since the passing of their mother, Mathew has been in charge of their assets and of my dear Polly. I've been doing my best to help them out, as my brother and sister-in-law would have liked, but Mathew was so stubborn. He had it all under control, he said, no need for my help. Kept all the ledgers and books and such under lock and key. I insisted I should be in charge of Polly's coming out, but he refused, saying he would oversee it."

"Which he barely did! And on top of that, he was gambling! That nearly drained us dry! He said so many awful things and because of him, people were loath to approach me. When I found out what was going on I finally put my foot down and brought in Aunt Vivienne. We took control of everything and sent him off, to avoid the scandal, of course. He'll be spending a lovely season out in the countryside."

"Oh, darling. I should have stepped in sooner. It was never your fault, you know. The actions of your brother were your brother's actions alone, not yours. It was never your fault."

"It was never your fault," Jacqueline repeated quietly. The words seemed to hold a double meaning for her, Bea noted. As though she was telling herself the same thing. "Oh! It really wasn't your fault! It was your brother's actions, not yours, and that shouldn't have impacted you at all! It wasn't…fair."

Lady Frost's eyes widened, her brief bout of passion that had given Bea a small start turning into something else that she couldn't quite place just yet.

"Yes! Exactly!" Polly flushed. "It wasn't fair!"

"No! It wasn't! And I can't believe I didn't see—argh!"

"Jacqueline?" Polly looked concerned. "Are you okay?"

"Oh!" She sounded angry now. "It was all—I can't—for the love of winter."

"Is everything all right, Jacqueline?" Lady Beatrice asked.

"Yes, yes. Just fine. I'll be fine. I'm so sorry to leave so soon, Beatrice, but I have to go see someone right now immediately." Placing her empty glass on a passing tray, Lady Frost grabbed both of Lady Beatrice's hands. "I promise I'll visit tomorrow during calling hours and explain everything, but I must dash, unfortunately."

"Oh, but of course! Would you like me to call the carriage for you?"

"I'll be alright, thank you. You stay and entertain! I'm sure my sudden leave is going to stir a lot of talk," she leant in for the customary double cheek kiss and said, very quietly, "I'm really very sorry, Bea."

"Oh that's quite alright! If anything, you'll help tonight's festivity be the talk of the town," she whispered back with a wink. She leant in for another hug, and said very quietly, "And do feel free to stop by in the morning. I'm not sure I could wait until calling hours to hear your explanation."

Lady Frost laughed. "Thank you again, Lady Bea. I appreciate everything and promise next time, I'll stick around for a bit longer. I will see you tomorrow!" With a quick little bow, Lady Frost picked up her skirts and ran out of the ballroom, nearly getting stuck in the doors.

"Oh my. She forgot to turn sideways," the Viscountess chuckled.

"Is she going to be okay? I didn't mean to for that to happen! Oh, I hope she wasn't talking about me! I really like her."

"Polly dear, I don't think it was. It seemed to me she was thinking of her own brotherly woes when I said what I said. Your thoughts, Beatrice?"

"I agree, Viscountess." She turned to Polly, offering her a warm smile. "I don't think it was a bad thing. Worry not, love. She said she would be by tomorrow during visiting hours with an explanation. I'm sure it will be okay—don't fret, Polly, if I may."

Polly nodded. "Of course, Lady Clifton."

"Please, call me Beatrice. I quite enjoy talking to you ladies but I fear as though I may have some damage control to do," she smiled politely as behind her, the party goers noticed Lady Frost leave in such a rush. Chatter was beginning; it was spreading across the room in a wave. Time to rally the kids, Bea thought. Distraction tactics would work best!

For all of them, really.

She hadn't expected the night to go like this.

Jacqueline rushed outside, nearly in tears now. She was nearing full breakdown mode! Her townhouse was out of the question. It was just Martha and as dear as the housekeeper was, she wouldn't quite understand.

Jacqueline needed people. Someone. A friend. She didn't want to go back to Frost Abbey—everyone would be asleep and she wasn't sure any of the magibeans currently in residence would be able to help her through this, as wonderful as they all were. Home was a bit too far and she wasn't sure at all how her parents would react to her bringing this up. Her breathing was very fast now and her heart was beating quite rapidly which probably wasn't good. I'm far too young for Rosehaven, she thought, running down the pathway and glad she selected midnight blue instead of her usual light blue or pastel coloured dresses. It made running down the dark driveway and disappearing at the gates a lot easier to do.

There was one person in the whole wide world who she felt could help her right now.

She just hoped she could find him, especially since zeroing in on someone's whereabouts and teleporting right to them was a newer skill that she was still getting used to.

"Here goes everything," she said out loud, closing her eyes, searching, and disappearing on the spot in a flurry of snowflakes and light blue sparks.

It absolutely was a problem, Bernard decided upon arrival.

It was unpleasantly snowy, and Bernard was cursing the herald of the season as he trekked over to where the lodge was supposed to be. The storm only worsened. You'd think he would have more control over his storms, honestly, Bernard thought, his mood starting to worsen as well. He's been doing it for literal centuries!

When he finally got to the lodge, his mood absolutely plummeted.

Inside, the windows were lit. A closer peek through one of them revealed a crowd of people gathered in one of the parlours. And covering the walls nearly top to bottom were very long, very immaculately kept, guns.

"For the love of tinsel," Bernard said, kicking the snow. This was going to be a lot harder than he thought.

He walked around the side of the lodge, thankful for his shorter stature, and the fast-becoming-a-blizzard-snowfall. It was a decent sized lodge, with two floors. It had to be for hunting parties, Bernard assumed. That's what rich people did, right? Maybe it was what James had planned for the morning, given the inclement weather. And also the dark.

Turning the corner, he peeked into the dark window, thankful for his dark vision. He could make out the shape of a desk, and tall stacks that loomed up in the dark of the room.

The office, perhaps? Or a library?

It was definitely a place for official business to be conducted.

Grinning, Bernard focused on the desk and dissipated, the colourful sparks he left in his wake outside barely settling on the snow when he reappeared right at the desk.

There was a source of heat somewhere in the room, for it was far warmer inside then it was outside. The wind rattled the windows, the outside looking near whiteout conditions. It was a nasty storm.

But, shoving that thought aside—not his problem right now, nor his department, Bernard thought—he got to work examining the office. As his eyes adjusted, the room became clearer to him. There was a smouldering fire lit in a fireplace on the far right wall. Tall ranges filled with books were arranged in rows, with a large space in the middle of the library for a heavy desk and several regal armchairs. A spindly table was by the double door entrance, lamps burning low on either side of the doors.

With a flick of his wrists, two golden balls of light headed towards the wall sconces, the low burning lamps now bright enough to give Bernard a decent line of sight while still keeping the library dark enough to not arouse suspicion. Sure he could see in the dark, and could have done everything in the dark completely, but a well-lit space was preferred.

He just had to be very, very quiet.

The winds outside roared, a light tack tack tack sound signalling that now ice was falling outside as well. Bernard rounded his way to the head of the desk, sitting down in the leather chair. Three drawers, two small ones on either side of the space allotted for the chair, and a large one underneath the left drawer. All locked.

Good thing Bernard was magical, and locks weren't an issue.

He opened the big drawer on the bottom first and pulled out all of the documents inside. He was able to make fast work of the ones that weren't really pertinent to his task. Questionable portraits, and what may have been handwritten books with equally as questionable content. Bernard threw those right back into the drawer.

There were a few notebooks he kept out, as well as a thick folder with Santa's father's name on it. That could be handy. Done with the big drawer, he opened up the small top drawers and began rifling through them.

There was a creak in the hallway. He stopped, glancing at the lamps. They dimmed. He sat still, unmoving, until he heard another creak. It was moving away from the library. He waited another minute before he breathed a sigh of relief and turned the lamps back up.

As long as he was quiet, this would go fine and he wouldn't get shot. He just had to stay quiet...

"Bernard, I cannot even BELIEVE!"

So much for quiet, Bernard thought, as the space in front of the desk grew cold and a small flurry of snowflakes and light blue sparks appeared. If it wasn't for how distraught the familiar voice sounded, Bernard would have immediately shushed her. Instead, he stood up, waiting for his friend to properly appear.

There was a small poof and a slightly dishevelled Jacqueline Frost appeared in front of him, her eyes watery. Her hair must have been up at one point, but was now falling. She rubbed ice off of her cheeks, sniffling. "I spent this entire time thinking it was all my fault but it wasn't my fault! I'm not responsible for his actions, but I let myself think that and I—" she gasped for breath, rubbing her eyes again.

Silver bells, Bernard thought. This at least explained the blizzard, he realized. He got up around the desk and placed an arm on Jacqueline's shoulder. "Hey, calm down kid. It's gonna be okay!"

"Is it?!"

"I don't know yet. But I imagine it will be. Look, Jacqueline, you know I'm here for you, and I'm more than happy to help you out. On one condition."

The sprite nodded, sniffling and wiping her cheeks.

"If you're gonna stick around, I need you to be very quiet, okay?"

Finally having caught her breath, Jacqueline nodded, taking another deep breath that nearly turned into a sob. She hiccuped. "Sorry."

"Hey, don't apologize! It's okay! Seems like you've had a bit of a rough night. It happens. I'm halfway to one myself, I'm beginning to think. Have a seat. I have some things to go through here but I can multitask. And remember, quiet."

"Right. Quiet." She tried to sit but was stopped by her panniers. She groaned. "Of COURSE!"

"Volume, please," Bernard said, skimming through the folder now.

"These dresses are awful, seriously, I don't know who decided that panniers would be a good idea but whoever it is should be frozen right solid." She sniffled. "I wonder if I can teleport out of these..."

"Hold on a second, you're emotional AND still new to teleporting, don't—"

It was too late. Jacqueline had already disappeared, the dull thunk of metal hitting wood signifying that she had successfully teleported out of the panniers. Bernard clenched his jaw, straining his ears for creaks and footsteps.

Nothing.

"Jacqueline. We're trying to be stealthy! You really have to keep it down," he said as the sprite reappeared behind the desk. "And please be careful teleporting. Losing particles is not fun."

"I'm fine," she said, sounding very not fine. The dress was quite big on her now, the extra material falling to the side without the hoops to hold it up. She rounded the desk as quietly as she could, taking deep breaths.

"There you go, Jacqueline. It's going to be okay. Keep breathing, in and out. Just take a moment, and then you can tell me what's bugging you, okay?"

She nodded. "Okay."

Bernard paused for a moment, looking at the sprite over the papers he was skimming through. Grounding techniques. That could work.

"Last I saw you, you were in the middle of a very prolific piracy career. A huge naughty list stint, by the way."

The sprite laughed. Bernard smiled, still skimming the ledgers. His attempt at humour had worked!

"Despite all the good I did?" Jacqueline teased.

Bernard looked up, winking.

The sprite laughed again. "Well, once Blackbeard was caught, I knew that we'd be getting round up and hung soon enough. I spent the five years after that making sure each crew member was settled somewhere safe and set for life. Once I finished up there, I did a favour for one of the other Legates, and then had a year or so to myself in the Azores before deciding to check up on a few things in London. One thing led to another, and I decided to rejoin society this year. I was actually just at a lovely ball tonight! First of the season, and a famous one in specific social circles. It's sure to be the talk of the ton tomorrow, more so than usual with the mysterious Lady Frost rushing away just when the dancing started," she opened her fan and hid behind it, wiggling her eyebrows.

Now it was Bernard's turn to laugh. "The mysterious Lady Frost? You? As if!"

"Tell that to the Snow Witch, ice queen of the Spanish Main!"

She did have a point there, Bernard thought. "Alright, humour me. What makes you so mysterious?"

"The elusive Lady Frost is the owner of the just as strange Frost Abbey, a place a little ways away from here that is supposedly the site of strange happenings. they say it's a portal to the fae world." Jacqueline giggled to herself. "It's where I started my whole journey, Bernard! Way back in the twelfth century!"

"You've been running around since the twelfth century?"

She nodded. "There was a safe house for magibeans in the Countryside, and that was where I arrived. Dad told me about it! He thought it would be a good place to get acquainted to the human world. And it was! But of course, what with all the battles for land and crowns and such, none of the magibeans there knew if they would have the land for much longer. It's lovely. It was definitely an abbey at one point, though it was abandoned by whatever organization lived in it. A few magibeans found it, and made it their home, and of course other magibeans were attracted to it, and a whole bunch of them stayed there!"

"So it's like a community centre?"

"And an inn, too!"

"And how did the mysterious Lady Frost find herself in possession of it?" Bernard said, pronouncing mysterious, well, mysteriously.

Jacqueline laughed. "I really am mysterious!"

"Mysteriously loud," Bernard reminded her, as he picked through the contents of the folder.

"Sorry," she said, quieter now. "So the crown came for the land. Demanded we surrender it. It got all of us rowelled up, and we were ready to run out there fists a blazing, but then Trina, one of the witches who had found the place, told us that would be unwise and that first we should see if we could reason with them. I volunteered, and stomped outside and said that we wouldn't be giving up the Abbey. They did not like that. But I mean, if an eleven-year-old stomped up to me like that I'd have reacted the same way too! I tried all sorts of bargaining, until finally I told them the sort of truth—that the Abbey was on faerie land, and that if they took it, they'd be cursed."

"They believed that?"

"You know how mortals are, especially back then. So superstitious! They backed down a bit, but not all of them. A few began to charge at me. I, uh, may have lost control. I meant to scare them but there was a little too much frost and I froze a bunch of them."

The kid had calmed down. It didn't seem like she was calm enough to tell him exactly what had happened just yet—she still seemed shaky. He pressed forward.

"Then what happened?"

"Trina and a couple of others came out and supported my curse story, though the ice display had convinced them well enough. Thankfully, their leader had a lot more sense and dismounted to talk with us. We ended up making a deal that we'd get the newly minted deed to the land, if we promised to leave them be, being fae and all," she snickered. "They just needed to give it a proper name and owner, and Trina said it would be called Frost Abbey, and that they should make the deed out to Lady Frost, which I thought would be her but then she gave it to me!"

"That's impressive," Bernard said, pulling out a packet of handwritten letters.

"Her reasoning was that If I hadn't gone out and frozen a few of them, they would've tried to take it by force and we'd have been warring with humans for who knows how long, potentially outing ourselves to mortals again, which is a big no-no, as I've learnt. The hard way. Multiple times at this point."

"Right, the stake thing."

"Yeahhhhhhhhh. So," she said, quietly chipper. "What are we doing here tonight?"

"Have you met the current Santa?"

Jacqueline shook her head.

"Well, he comes from nobility. Nice family though! His Mrs. Claus is great and their three kids are real sweethearts. They've never been on the naughty list. Well, except for Johnny, but it was a brutal year at school so we let it slide. He was only trying to defend the other kids, after all. Anyway, Santa's family knew what was going on right from the beginning. It was one of the easiest transitions I've ever seen, from one Santa to another. The one before him was really sick, after all."

"So which of his family members is giving Santa enough grief that you've been sent on a special mission? Because now that I'm looking around, this definitely isn't your office. And I was all the way in England, and I feel like I'd be more exhausted had I gone from there to the Pole."

"That's because I'm also in England. And I have a feeling that the family member that's giving this Santa grief is the same as the one giving you grief tonight. Think you can tell me about what happened now?"

Jacqueline plopped down in the chair that wasn't covered by the panniers from her dress and sighed. She ran her fingers through her hair, pins flying as the brown curls froze, turning white as snow. "That's better. Right. So I was at a party, and one of the ladies there had just dealt with brother problems of her own. She thought it was her fault that she hadn't had a successful season since her introduction into society, but it turns out, it was her BROTHER'S FAULT!"

"Shh! Volume Jacqueline, please."

"Why do we have to be so quiet? It looks pretty deserted to me."

"That's because the party is two rooms over, where a bunch of functional guns are on the walls, and being shown off to the men in attendance."

"Okay. Quiet it is. We'd be okay if we got shot, right? They're not iron bullets...are they?"

"Lead, I think. So yeah, we'll be fine unless they use iron. I think it might be too heavy for the guns, or something like that." Bernard pulled his satchel off the floor, sliding the letters into his bag. He started sorting through the last drawer now, a bit frantic. "You were saying?"

"Okay. Right. So when she said that it kind of clicked for me. It was never her fault; it was all her brother's fault! And I realized that none of what happened to me and my family was my fault, it was my brother's fault!"

Bernard paused his search. "You only just realized that now?"

"Yes!"

"I genuinely thought that you knew that already. Like, pre-piracy."

"That's giving me a lot of credit."

"Would you rather I didn't?"

Jacqueline feigned hurt. "Bernard, I NEVER!"

He smirked and rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm glad you realized it. Of course it wasn't your fault! You weren't responsible for the decisions he made. That was all him!"

"It is so nice to hear someone say that," Jacqueline's voice sounded heavy. "I dunno I just. When it hit me I got really mad, and had to leave Lady Clifton's party right away because I was going to lose it then and there if I didn't and—"

Bernard paused his rummaging through the drawers. "Sorry, did you say Lady Clifton?"

"Yes? Why, does your Santa know her?"

"Lady Beatrice Clifton?"

"Yes! That's her name!"

Bernard couldn't help it; he burst out laughing. "He sure knows her all right, oh boy. She's Mrs. Claus, Jacqueline."

"She's WHAT?!"

"You heard me!"

"That's CRAZY!"

"What's crazy is how loud we're being," Bernard reminded her.

Both fae stopped for a moment, listening. They could hear the far-off rumble of laughter from two doors down. The cackling of the fireplace. The wind hitting the windows.

"I think we're good." She scooted the chair closer, the legs scraping against the floor.

"Jacqueline!"

She grimaced. "Sorry!" She sat in the chair, elbows on the desk. "So the rumours are true then? James has the deed?"

Bernard nodded. "Beatrice wrote to Santa this morning to explain the situation. He sent me to find it. It's this whole thing—"

"No need to elaborate, I know all about it. He's upset about his brother having the estates despite being off in the colonies, which I guess is code for the North Pole?"

Bernard nodded.

"You know, they're discovering more and more each day. This world is so big and yet, I find it rather small, don't you?"

"Considering all this? I'll say."

"So have you found the deed?"

Bernard shook his head. "I've found letters between James and his father. They're very close to the date he died. He sounds very much in his right mind in these, if you ask me. He's insisting his will remain untouched. It's got me thinking that James did alter the will."

"That'll be really helpful in court."

"These ledgers are the accounts, and since he grabbed them from Beatrice it looks like some skimming's being done off the top. The figures don't add up."

"Maybe he has the real will hidden in here somewhere?"

"Along with the deed to the manor, I'll bet." Bernard got up and began pacing the room, arms crossed, hand on his chin. "If I were an egotistical, jealous human, where would I hide the things I KNOW would get me in trouble?"

"Secret safe," Jacqueline answered immediately. "Maybe behind a portrait?"

Bernard stopped his pacing and surveyed the room. There were several large portraits. A near life size one was on the wall behind the desk, between the two windows. Several other medium portraits scattered the library as well, though it was obvious what the central portrait was meant to be.

"I bet it's behind that one."

"Let me help!" Jacqueline shot up. "It's the least I can do for Beatrice. She's been very nice to me! I met her a few months back, towards the end of the last season," she mused out loud, walking with Bernard to the portrait. "She came calling when word spread that I'd returned. She was an absolute sweetheart, and made the transition back to high-class society very smooth! So whatever she needs, whatever you need, I'm your sprite."

"Thanks, Jacqueline," Bernard said, earnestly. "You grab one side, I'll grab the other. On three, we lift. Ready?"

"Ready."

"One..."

Both the elf and the sprite grabbed the bottom of the portrait.

"Two..."

They both braced.

"Three!"

The portrait lifted, and the pair gently pulled it off of the hangings. Jacqueline grinned. "Bernard! Look! A lockbox!"

Sure enough, as Bernard carefully turned his head, behind the painting was a square opening in the wall, and in it? A medium sized box with a golden key beside it.

"Yes! Nice detective work, Jacqueline."

"You're too kind," Jacqueline said, placing a hand on her chest in a very overdramatic way. Bernard almost laughed, stopping abruptly when he felt himself stagger.

"Jacqueline! Grab it!"

She placed her hand back on the portrait very fast, but it was too late. The two fae staggered back and forth in a cartoonish fashion, and the portrait fell down, the frame scratching their arms on the way. It hit the desk; the frame made an incredibly loud THUNK, the portrait itself bouncing off of the chair's high back before the other side could hit the desk. Bernard and Jacqueline watched as the portrait slid off of the leather of the chair, and hit the hard floor, the bang-SNAP letting them and everyone else in the house know for certain that the frame had, in fact, broken.

"Frostbite," Jacqueline swore. "I'm so sorry, Bernard!"

"S'okay! Not your fault. This was a collective mess up. We should've just used magic to take it down. Maybe they didn't hear it?"

The pair strained their ears.

"Did you lot hear that?"

"Why it sounded as though something fell!"

"James, did you leave a window open somewhere?"

"In this weather? Don't be daft, Quincy."

"Where did it come from?"

"Somewhere close, I expect."

"Let's check the parlour. May as well bring the firearms with us, it'll take a while to put them back."

Bernard and Jacqueline glanced at each other, frozen in place. There was a creak of hinges. They heard footsteps coming from the room next door now.

"Nothing seems amiss here."

"What's the next room over, James?"

"The study. I know for a fact that I had the windows there closed. I was in there earlier, making sure I had everything for tomorrow morning's errand..."

"Why did he trail off like that?" Jacqueline whispered.

"I have a feeling he's put two and two together and realized that it's a case of intruders. I'm gonna grab the box."

Bernard stepped forward. The floor creaked way louder than it should've.

"Did you hear that creak?"

"It was probably one of us—"

"No. It came from next door. We have intruders, men. Grab the weapons, let's move!"

Jacqueline gasped.

"Gingersnaps!" Bernard said. The footsteps were loud, running to the door now. A large bang echoed out in the hall. Bernard glanced at the box, and glanced at Jacqueline. She held her face, terrified. He glanced back at the box. Jaw set, he ran back over to Jacqueline and grabbed her hand, pulling them both under the desk.

And not a moment too soon.

Jacqueline had only just finished tucking in the spare fabric of her dress when the lock clicked, the doors hit the walls, and the stampede of footfalls came into the room, stopping almost immediately upon entry.

"My word..."

"You really think an open window could've done that, Mathew?"

"I don't see anyone anywhere." The click of the footsteps moved towards the desk. Jacqueline covered her mouth. Quietly, Bernard reached into his satchel, pulling out a handheld mirror. He angled it between the two of them, moving it slightly until they could see feet.

"There's about seven," Bernard said, his voice barely a whisper. He noted the long firearms he could just see in the reflection of the mirror.

Jacqueline leaned in closely, speaking directly into Bernard's ear.

"Do you have a plan?"

Bernard put the mirror back, glancing around their hiding space. Broken wood. Two decent sized windows that could easily be magicked open. The box in plain sight that Bernard was so certain held everything they needed. Seven men walking around the desk, looking at the splintered wood and trying to figure out how they got in. They had not yet been seen, though. He glanced to his left.

A very powerful winter sprite.

Alright. He could work with this.

"I have several. Maybe A through C."

The men had started arguing over entry methods now.

"Let's start with A?"

Bernard nodded. "How good is your snow conjuring?"

"It's okay. I'm getting better at it. I couldn't do it cramped up in here, though."

"And if I were to magic open the windows?"

Jacqueline smirked. "I could work with that."

"GENTLEMEN!" The hidden fae grew silent. James's voice cut above the squabbling men. "It would appear that whoever was in here is still in here."

There was a metal clang.

Jacqueline paled.

"I don't think a lady of repute would go anywhere without these."

The men burst into uproarious laughter.

"I doubt a fine lady is in here!" the voice sounded like the man who had made the window comment. Mathew. Bernard grew angry. He glanced over at Jacqueline; she looked positively mortified.

"Hate to interrupt your little tryst, but I know you are still in here," James continued. "Such improper conduct! I'd expect nothing less of my brother's lackeys."

The sprite and elf shared a look. "How did he know?" Jacqueline mouthed.

Bernard thought of the papers left on the desk, and the exposed lockbox, and how James did know the true nature of his brother's job. He shrugged and mouthed back, "Kinda obvious with the mess."

Jacqueline nodded.

"If he's sent you for the deed, you won't be getting it any. Time. Soon." James punctuated each of the last three words with a step closer to the desk. They could see his feet about to round the corner.

With a nod at Jacqueline, Bernard lifted his arms and gestured upwards with both his hands. The windows burst open with a loud smack, the winter winds coming in.

Jacqueline grinned. She pulled off her gloves, her bare hands glowing light blue, lifted her arms and pulled towards her. Two large streams of snow burst through the windows. One hit James directly in his chest, shoving him off with enough force that he crashed into one of the men at the door. The other stream of snow looped around the opposite side of the desk, hitting the two men crouched over the portrait and pushing them back.

The pair nodded, and burst out from the desk. Jacqueline turned, the fabric of her dress fanning out as she spun. The snow spun with her. She brought her hands in front of her, palms out, and the snow piled up into a wall as tall as she and Bernard and as wide as the corridor between the shelves, the fabric of her skirts billowing out behind her.

"What's going on!"

"It's witchcraft!"

"No, you fools! It's magic! They're elves."

"Not this again, Clifton."

Bernard meanwhile had rushed to the lockbox. He grabbed the box and the key, and rushed towards Jacqueline's snowy wall. He slammed against it, sinking down and bracing as he stuck the key in the lock.

Jacqueline frowned. "I'm not an elf! How rude!"

Before Bernard could reply, the sound of metal scraping metal made his ears twitch.

"Jacqueline! You may want to reinforce us!"

Jacqueline waved her hand, the snow moving at her command. She looked through the slit she had made, and her eyes grew wide. The men had begun to load their firearms! Four stood up, three squatted.

"Yep! Yep, yep, yep!"

She waved her hand, and snow covered the spot again. Her hands were light blue as she smacked them into the snow, a layer of frost spreading out and freezing it in place.

"This won't be enough!"

"Quick, back under the desk!"

Bernard ran for it, nearly somersaulting under the desk. Jacqueline hopped over the desk and slid under, her skirts knocking everything off of it. She placed her hands on her head and curled in as the guns fired. The crack was nearly deafening for the two fae. Both their ears rang for a few moments afterwards. The air smelt of gunpowder.

"Okay! Next plan!" Jacqueline yelled.

"Next plan was stealth! Not sure we can do that!" Bernard yelled back. "Am I yelling?!"

"I know I sure am! I can't hear ANYTHING!"

Bernard crawled out from under the desk, the box under one arm, key in the lock. The men had broken their formation, and were shoving the rods into the barrels. Bernard crawled back.

"Okay! They need time to reload!"

"Divide and conquer?!"

Bernard nodded, and ran for the right side of the library. With a wave of his hand, the room grew darker. He turned a corner and leaned against the side of the farthest, darkest stack, shoving the box and key into his satchel, listening intently. Jacqueline meanwhile, slid for the left side of the library. She glanced around, looking left, right, up—and grinned. The stacks held enough space for her to stand, and that'd be one heck of a vantage point, especially with Bernard's little party trick. With help from the winter winds, she flew up and landed on the top of the stack, the horrendous amount of material in her skirt muffling her landing.

"They've split!"

"Bradley, Quincy, Mathew, follow the girl."

"Just the three of us? James, that's preposterous, you saw what she did!" one of the men said, gesturing to the snow wall.

"The boy is more of a threat to me. If he makes off with the documents in here, I'll be ruined!" He pulled the rod out of the barrel and prepped his next shot. "Besides. I've learnt not to underestimate my brother's people. Especially that boy, presuming he is who I think he is. Gents! Onward!"

Jacqueline's heart stopped. Bernard! He was in trouble! She knew he was very powerful, he was the boss of the elves, after all. But the men had guns, and she couldn't imagine what it would feel like if either of them got shot, but she figured that maybe it was similar to getting stabbed.

The anger suddenly rekindled. Jacqueline stood up, positively furious. "You know what? I have had a VERY rough evening!" She began, watching as the three men ran down the centre aisle, stopping in the middle. They all knelt in a triangle formation, shoulder to shoulder to shoulder, aiming their guns upwards. "FIRST I had to deal with Lady Alexandra and her whole oh Jacob this! Jacob that! I'm trying sooo hard to please everyone because I need everyone to like me crap!" She heard them cock the guns. With a thrust of her fists, the snowy wall fell into three large streams of snow, growing as the snow falling from the sky flew in through the open windows and joined up. "THEN I listened to poor Lady Parks talk about her deadbeat brother and realized that my brother was no better! And that just brought up a whole bunch of trauma I wasn't ready to deal with, and I realized, it wasn't even my FAULT that everything that had happened to me, and the fallout, HAD! HAPPENED! I bet you can relate to that, hmm Mathew?"

"Deadbeat?! I'll show you!" he shot, knocking the other men back. The bullet flew up; Jacqueline waved her hand, one of the streams of snow gusting by her and throwing the bullet off course.

"This one's for Polly, Mathew!" Jacqueline yelled. She punched her hand forwards. The stream of ice and snow went right for Mathew. The other two scattered as the snow hit him square in the chest, judging by the deep thunk. He hit the shelving across from Jacqueline, hard; it actually tipped! It fell down, knocking into the next range and knocking it over, and then the third one, then the fourth one, until that one hit the wall.

Mathew sat winded in the books. He coughed. He glanced up, and saw the furious girl with snow at her fists glaring right at him. He panicked, reaching for his gun—but it was buried in the snow. And it was thick snow. And why couldn't he move? He struggled, and only then did he realize that the snow was freezing. He watched with wide eyes as the soft white fluff grew hard, and cold, and solidified, locking his legs in place. The girl had frozen his legs solid!

"How dare you?!"

"Easily!" She replied. Gunshots rang out from the other side of the library. She had to get to Bernard. But where were the other two men?

She spotted them easily enough. They had run in opposite directions, and were about to meet at the end of the range Jacqueline stood upon. "And where do you two think you're going? I have some for you as WELL!" And with a mighty scream, Jacqueline charged, jumping down from her stack. She hit the floor and roared, thrusting both her fists out to her sides. Quincy and Bradley turned the corner, and were both immediately hit with streams of snow and thrown back. Quincy soon found himself frozen to the wall. And Bradley found himself quite frozen in a very uncomfortable manner on the edge of the desk.

"I won't let myself get hurt again. Or anyone else! Bernard!" She shouted, rushing through the centre aisle. "Bernard!"

She felt hands grab her waist. She nearly let out a little scream, but was muffled by a hand. Her fists began to glow.

"Shh! It's just me!"

Jacqueline let out a breath, shoulders sagging in relief. Then she glared at Bernard.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to grab you. But you were charging in and, well, take a look," he whispered, letting go of her and using his head to point at the end of the aisle with a cheeky grin.

There was glitter and tinsel everywhere. She could barely see through it!

"A glitter bomb?"

Bernard nodded. "Made by the most troublesome troublemakers in all of Elfsburg. I was able to sneak out, and the shots missed me. I've bought us some time." His face fell. "I heard what you were saying to the others. I'm sorry you had to deal with that this evening. And then this! Almost getting shot! Which I'm sure must feel similar to getting stabbed! Again! Sorry if it's too soon."

Jacqueline shook her head. "Don't be. I was thinking the same thing. I couldn't let you get shot!" she smiled, cheeks flushed. "You're like family to me, you know."

Bernard smiled. "Well thanks, Jacqueline. That's real sweet of you to say."

"It's true!"

"What a heartfelt moment."

Metal clicking tickled their ears. The fae turned; in front of them stood James Clifton, with three of his four men. Behind them, the fourth man ran back and forth, stomping his feet and brushing his clothes, trying to get the tinsel and sparkles off of him. The fae glanced back at each other and promptly burst into laughter.

"Don't laugh when I threaten you!" Clifton said. "Oi! Dalton! Could you do that somewhere else?!"

This only served to make the fae laugh harder, which infuriated Clifton. The barrel of his gun was now mere centimetres away from the pair. "Who's laughing now, hmm?"

Jacqueline moved closer to Bernard, grabbing his arm with a cold death-like grip. He patted her hand. "It's gonna be okay," he whispered, just loud enough for her to hear.

"Come now. Hand it over. The lockbox."

"Hard pass, thanks."

"If you don't, I'll kill your little friend here," Clifton reiterated, barrel of his gun now pointed at Jacqueline's gut. The sprite looked down at the barrel, terrified. But then…something began to happen. Her eyes grew cold, and the fear was replaced very suddenly with anger.

"Ou, I wouldn't put that there if I were you. My friend has had a rough night, if you didn't hear. And that's the last place you wanna point that thing. It brings up bad memories that she's particularly mad about tonight, as she should be!" Bernard said, glancing over at her. Her neck was blue. Her face was fast turning blue, as well. He grinned. "I think it's about time you elfing snapped Jacqueline."

The two men stepped back. Clifton stood his ground.

"Sure you don't want to back down, sir?" Jacqueline asked, patronizing. Dry ice drifted out with every word.

"I want my inheritance back. Hand. It. Over."

"Hey." Throwing his hands up in surrender, Bernard backed away. "Your funeral."

Jacqueline exhaled.

Clifton and his two men were immediately hit with an icy cold gust. It hit them all over; they put their hands to their faces and tried to back up, but they were so cold. The cold kept coming. It felt as though all the windows were open. They hugged themselves, growing closer until the ice had them stuck and surely this was how they'd go, it was so cold—

And everything stopped.

The frost cleared, revealing a proud Jacqueline and perhaps an even prouder Bernard behind her. The three men weren't total ice statues. But their feet were completely encased and there was a generous amount of frost on their clothes and their faces were nearly frozen solid—none of them could speak.

"Told ya so, Clifton," Bernard shouted.

"He did. He gave you a huge warning." Voice as cold as her face, Jacqueline stepped right up to them. She glared at them for a moment, her hand shooting up. Had they been able to move, the men would have recoiled for fear of a slap. Instead, three large pillars of snow shot up out of the frost around their feet, knocking their frozen guns right out of their hands. "You nearly hurt my friend, and you've already severely hurt one of my other friends. I won't let it happen again, and I won't let this continue."

And that was his cue.

Bernard ran over to the desk, looking at all of the papers on the floor. What to take? The large folder was a must. He fell onto his knees and shoved it into his satchel. Not those books and pictures, those could stay. He waved those away. The ledgers would have to go as well, and the letters between James and his father were definite. There were a few other unfamiliar papers, as well as a copy of the will that he had seen with Santa. He shoved it in his satchel as well.

Jacqueline grabbed her panniers distastefully, joining Bernard's side. "Ready to go, B-Man? I reinforced to buy us some time, but my freeze won't hold for long."

"Yeah, just about. You doing okay?"

Tear tracks were frozen on her face. She looked livid. "No. This was very therapeutic, though."

Behind her, one of the shelves on the collapsed ranges broke, several large tomes falling directly on Mathew's head.

"...whoops."

"Nice."

"Bernard?"

"Yeah?"

"If I ever see Jack again, I'm going to kick his ass."

Bernard got up, grinning. "I look forward to it. Know a place where we can go through this stuff and talk?"

Jacqueline nodded. "Grab on. I'll take us somewhere safe."

"Will you be okay to—?"

The question hung in the air. Jacqueline nodded. "But once we're in and I've talked with Martha, I am completely breaking down."

Bernard nodded. "I'll be right there for you, Jacqueline."

She smiled gratefully. Hanging her panniers on one elbow, she offered Bernard the other.

He grabbed it, staring at James until he looked their way.

"See ya in court, Clifton!"

And, with one last jaunty little wave, Bernard let Jacqueline poof them out of the lodge.

It was getting to be quite late. Or early, if you were Martha. Up and at 'em, she stirred the fire in the morning room to life. Lady Clifton's little party should be ending soon enough, and Lady Frost would be back home shortly—

There was a thunk in the foyer of the town house. Martha grabbed the poker and ran into the hall, brandishing it.

"Good morning, Martha."

"Jacqueline! Oh my, sorry ma'am, I didn't mean to—" she shrugged and hid the poker behind her skirts.

Jacqueline laughed. "That's quite alright Martha. I'm glad to know the townhouse is in good hands when I'm not around."

"Of course," she bobbed a tiny curtsy. "Who's that you've got there?'

"This is my uh. Cousin! Bernard. And these are my panniers. I got mad at them. Bernard, this is Martha! She's the housekeeper."

"Hi, how are ya?" Bernard said, sticking out his hand.

Martha approached and took his hand. "Just dandy, thank you. Now then, what's all this? You two look like you were walking in the storm!"

"I had a bit of a time this evening after the ball. Ran into Bernard and we got into a bit of a scrape." She handed off the panniers to Martha, who leaned them against the wall with the poker. She bustled over to a closet and pulled out a couple of blankets, tutting all the while.

"Well that won't do. Come here you two, have some blankets, that's it. I've just started the fire in the morning room, come on, in you go, we don't want Jack Frost nipping at your noses!"

"I'll nip back," Jacqueline snapped, angrily. "Sorry." She took a breather before turning to Martha. "Listen Martha, Bernard will be staying with us for a while. He works for Lord Clifton."

"Over in the colonies! Well now, no wonder you have that funny way of speaking!"

"Er...right," Bernard said.

"What's the nature of your business, if you don't mind me asking?"

"He's a barrister!"

"More like a solicitor, but I guess barrister works too," Bernard clarified. "Both work."

"I'm sure you've heard of what James Clifton's been getting up to, Martha."

Martha tutted again. "All sorts of trouble, that one. It's about time Lord Clifton took legal action, is what I think!"

"I couldn't agree more!" Bernard said. Finally someone was talking sense! "He sent me here in advance of him to put a few things together, make sure we have grounds for a case, compile the evidence, that sorta thing."

"It does my heart good to hear that! There you two go, all bundled? Good. I'll bring up some food, shall I?"

"Please and thank you, Martha. And do you think you could find something more this century for Bernard?"

"What's wrong with my clothes?!" Bernard asked, voice cracking. He squirmed under his blanket as Martha scrutinized him.

"It's 1732 Bernard. Not 1332. You can't walk around London looking like that, especially as a barrister-solicitor."

"I'm sure we can fix something up."

"Not too tight please. And preferably in the same colours? If it's not too much trouble, of course."

Martha nodded. "Absolutely. I'll be back in a mo' with some snacks, Jacqueline."

"Thanks Martha."

"She didn't seem at all weirded out by this," Bernard said, gesturing to his pointed ears and then Jacqueline's frozen hair.

"Martha's grandmother's a witch! So Martha knows all about magic. I mean, not to the extent that her Grandmother knows, or that you or I know, since she's only like a quarter witch, but she knows enough. I was lucky to find her. I can't begin to tell you how many housekeepers I went through before she came around."

Martha came back with a few small sweets and treats, and some warm glasses of cocoa, which Bernard was grateful for. She stoked the fire and placed a couple more logs in, letting them know they could ring if they needed anything. Bernard told her he'd take care of it, and that she should get some rest, maybe sleep in—if the Lady of the house was okay with it?

The Lady of the house was. She welcomed it, in fact, and with Jacqueline's insistence and reassurances, Martha headed out. And as promised, Jacqueline completely broke down. And as he promised, Bernard was there to listen and affirm her feelings at the proper moments. It wasn't long before she had cried herself out and, after yet again vowing to kick her brother's butt (which Bernard couldn't wait to see), passed out on the couch.

Gently so as not to wake her (though sprites were notorious for sleeping like logs after heavy emotional moments), Bernard slid a pillow under her head, and then a second one for good measure. He threw his blanket around his shoulders like a cloak and slid down, sitting on the floor with the couch as his backrest. A long, low table was in front of the plush seat. Grabbing his satchel, Bernard took out everything he had snatched from the lodge and lay it on the table. The lockbox, the will they had all seen, the letters, the ledgers, and the key for the box.

He was itching to comb through this and finally have enough to give to Santa, so he could put this feud to rest. Bernard hated drama, and the sooner this ended the better. He was particularly fond of this Santa and his wife and kids, which Bernard was positive was the driving force behind why he wanted to end this so bad.

But Santa had given him one job to do above all else: find the deed.

And so, with a deep breath, he grabbed the small golden key and opened the box. The relief he felt when he looked inside was so intense, he felt his entire body sag against the couch.

Inside the box were two rolled up pieces of paper, the official seal of Lord Clifton cracked open. Between the two scrolls was a signet ring—and it matched the seals.

It was Lord Clifton, Senior's, signet ring.

He almost laughed, but checked himself quickly. Didn't want to wake up the kid, or Martha for that matter—though he had a feeling she was close by, instead of tucked up somewhere like they had insisted.

The contents of the lockbox were, in fact, the deed to Clifton Manor, and the original will that named Stephan as the proper heir, not James. The letters combined with the signet were enough proof to show that the true will was the one in the box, and had been what Lord Clifton had intended to happen in the event of his death, with the will that was read being a forgery. The letters easily debunked James's claims of insanity by dates alone, and showed how he would have forged the writing of the will. And the ledgers were a tidy little bonus, really.

Dawn began to break, and Bernard pulled a handheld radio out of his bag. He briefly wondered when the human technology would catch up with theirs, before clicking the radio on and, with a little bit of magic to increase the range (a lot of magic, really), made a call to Santa. He relayed the information they had learned, letting him know that Bea had a magical protector she didn't even know about, and how much of a help Jacqueline had been.

"All in all, I think we've got a great case against him, Santa."

"And the deed?"

"Found and retrieved."

"Along with all the other proofs you've mentioned to me?"

"Yep. Though admittedly, we did trash the lodge. Badly. Sorry about that."

"It's of no consequence, Bernard. What matters the most is that you've got the deed. Bring it over to Beatrice first thing, if you please. I'd take your lady friend with you. She'll serve as a good letter of introduction for you. Best be proper in this, especially after what James has seen."

"Look on the bright side, Santa. We could always plead that he's insane."

There was a deep Ho ho ho on the other end. "Such a shame, really. He's my brother. It's upsetting that it has come to this. Jealousy truly is a green-eyed monster. No matter, you're quite right. Since your lady friend has made you my barrister, I fully expect you to work with Beatrice on putting this case together. I'll meet up with the both of you by the end of the week."

Bernard nodded. "Sounds good, Santa."

"And thank you Bernard. For everything you've done."

Bernard smiled, leaning back against the couch. "No problem, Santa. It's my job."

Bernard's back was wet.

He opened his eyes and reached behind him. Yup. Definitely damp. He look over his shoulder and saw Jacqueline's hair trailing over the couch, freshly thawed. Mostly on him.

It was nothing a little warm magic couldn't fix. He got to work on warming up his back, noticing a set of clothes folded on the chair across from the couch.

"Four hundred and thirty-two years."

"Sorry?" Bernard stopped mid stand and sat back down, much to his back's protesting. This was the last time he slept sitting up against a couch.

"I've been out and about for four-hundred and thirty-two years," Jacqueline repeated. The warmth from Bernard's magic had woken her up. Still bundled in the blanket she flipped over and stared at Bernard, her voice heavy. "And it was all for nothing."

"How do you figure that? Scoot over, will ya? My back is killing me."

"And somehow, I'm the older one?" Jacqueline sat up and shoved over, pulling the blankets tighter around herself. "Here you go, gramps."

"Who're you calling gramps, grandma? Bundled up like you'll freeze to death instantly. Aren't you impervious to cold?"

Jacqueline burst into laughter. She nearly teared up!

Bernard smiled. "Now, how do you figure all four centuries were a waste of time?"

"I left home because I thought that I was the reason home was...like that. You know?"

Bernard nodded.

"And now, it turns out that wasn't right at all. I left home for nothing!"

"If you ask me, that seems like a real big leap," Bernard said. "Did you not enjoy all four hundred centuries?"

"No, I did! I really did! The things I did, and saw?" she exhaled softly, a small, genuine smile on her face. "Amazing. All of it. It just. Seems like I did it for nothing."

"You did it for yourself."

"Sorry, what now?"

"You did it for you! You were never at fault, but you wouldn't have realized that if you hadn't gone out and experienced life for yourself! I've known you for a very long time, Jacqueline. And you know what you did for those four hundred years?"

"Seemingly legal things?"

"I was going to say you grew, but yes, the piracy speaks to that." She shifted and smirked, unbundling from the blanket. "And you didn't grow as in physically. I mean, you did, you're a bit taller. What I mean is, you had a whole period of self-growth. In fact, I'd even go so far to say that you found yourself!"

"You really think so?"

"I know so. The way you jumped in to help me yesterday? Even after the day you had had? You knew exactly what you wanted to do and why. And that's a huge difference from the sprite I knew before you left home. It wasn't for nothing, Jacqueline. It was for you."

The sprite brightened. "Thanks Bernard."

"Anytime."

"Speaking of, what time is it?"

"A little past noon."

"Oh frostbite, we missed the morning calling hours!" Jacqueline sprang off the couch, throwing the blanket over the back. "I'm sure Beatrice is nearly on her way over here. We should get a move on. I'll call for some food and—" she rang the little bell "—oh! Look!" She ran over to the chair across from the sofa. "Martha found you some new duds!"

Jacqueline held up the greatcoat for Bernard to see. It was a brocade pattern, the base colour maroon and the design gold, colours nearly matching his shirt. The lining was gold. The waistcoat was maroon as well, with gold trim. The breeches she had provided were a deep green, and Bernard was impressed by how well the colours had been matched to his regular clothes. The stockings and shirt were all off-white. The pattern was a little intense—a plain red would have been just fine. Or a dusty gold.

Then again, Jacqueline appeared to be a bit higher class herself. This would do just fine for today, Bernard decided. Once they finished their visit, he'd look into getting something a little less decorated for day-to-day purposes.

"I'll have to thank her later," Bernard said, trying on the greatcoat. It fit well, but was also roomy. Which was real nice—he didn't like feeling constricted by his clothing.

"I can't recall if I mentioned last night, but you can stay here with me for the week! I'll ask Martha to set up the guest room, though I'm sure she already has."

"Thanks Jacqueline."

"No Bernard, thank YOU," she said, giving him a very tight hug. "For listening and reassuring me and everything."

"No problem Jacqueline. It's what friends do, after all." He hugged her back as best as he could given how tight she was squeezing. "Yeesh, when did you get so strong? I can't breathe."

Jacqueline let go, blushing a bit. "That would be the Amazons influence. Sorry. I'm going to go and get dressed and ask about that room. Feel free to change in here! I'll be down in a few moments. Feel free to ask for whatever for breakfast. Or lunch at this point, I suppose."

They got ready fairly fast. Martha made sure they had something small, though she expected that Lady Clifton would have some lunch for them. She had also said she'd hunt down something less showy for Bernard, who was very thankful for that.

Jacqueline came down shortly thereafter in a simpler gown today. No side hoops, Bernard noted, and much more in her colour scheme: it was dark blue, with a white trellis pattern. She did opt for a fancy stomacher that Bernard suspected was covered in ice, or snow, to make it look as shiny as it did.

"Freeze drying? Are you sure?" He offered his arm.

"I can't wait to see the look on Bea's face when I walk in with a head full of curly white hair."

"And slightly pointed ears," He chuckled. "Shall we pay Mrs. Claus a visit?" Bernard said, trying the accent Jacqueline had been using.

Jacqueline grabbed his elbow, covering a snort with her fan. "Yes, I rather think we should. Otherwise she'll break down the front door demanding to know what happened last night."

And with that, they poofed out of Jacqueline's foyer and over to Clifton Manor.

It was a quiet morning.

There had been no sign of James at all, and Beatrice had gotten up fairly early half expecting him to be at the door demanding they leave. She had been ready to put up quite the fight, kids by her side!

But nothing had happened.

Then the mail had arrived. A letter from Stephan was in the mix—he had figured out a solution and would meet them at the Manor as soon as he could. End of the week the latest, he had said. He was sending someone over presently to give Beatrice a proper, full update.

The kids were relieved, and had headed out with Susan chaperoning to go about their day as per the norm and shake the nasty gossip the ton might be having at their expense. Beatrice had opted to stay in, expecting callers as she was.

She had fully expected Bernard to appear at the door right away, and had made sure to have all of the head elf's favourites ready for luncheon. And then, she had anxiously awaited Lady Frost's visit.

The morning passed, and no sign of her. Or James. Or Bernard. Beatrice was getting antsy and had nearly paced a trench circling through the foyer, parlour, study, and sunroom when a knock finally came to her door.

And not a moment too soon, she noted. Calling hours were nearly upon them!

"Visitors, Lady Clifton," Ambrose said, handing her a calling card. It was Lady Frost's.

"Visitors? Plural?"

"Yes, My Lady. Lady Frost has a fine young gentleman with her. Her cousin, she says."

"Hmm. I'll be right with them."

"Shall I show them to the parlour? Receiving room?"

"No need! I'll lead them over myself," she replied over her shoulder, already through the sunroom and into the foyer, approaching the front door.

Sure enough, Lady Frost stood at the front door. Her hair was down and—white? Well, that was odd. And the gentleman beside her, the cousin—well. That was no stranger to Bea!

She thought of that odd feeling from last night. The familiar feeling. The feeling she was getting right this second as she glanced back and forth between the pair.

Well now things were starting to make sense!

"Afternoon Lady Clifton," Jacqueline said with a small curtsy and a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Apologies for the late visit, we had quite the night. This is my cousin, Bernard. Though I do believe the two of you are already acquainted."

"Hi, Mrs. C," Bernard said with a cheeky grin.

"My, my. Well it does appear to be a small world after all, does it not? Shall we retire to the morning room? We can speak plainly behind closed doors."

"After you, Lady Clifton."

"Thank you kindly, Lady Frost. Right this way." Beatrice lifted an arm, waiting for the two of them to follow her direction and leading them towards the front most room. She gestured them in, and waited for the pair to settle on the settee before gently closing the doors. The lock clicked shut. she turned around, surveying them both for a moment before smiling and speaking up.

"Magibeans, you were saying last night?"

"Yep! It's the proper term for magical folk."

Beatrice nodded. "Lady Jacqueline Frost. Hmm. Your ears look nothing like Bernard's, so not quite an elf."

"Not quite. And thank you for noticing."

"Of course. I assume your name is literal then?"

Jacqueline smirked and brought her hands up to her hairline. She pushed her hair back, and the white disappeared, revealing the brown Beatrice was used to. She finally pulled her hands away, holding a perfect snowball.

"It's a pleasure to properly meet you, Jacqueline. And you two are cousins? No, not quite. Close enough to be cousins though, I expect. Friends then?"

"We go way back," Bernard said.

"Way back," Jacqueline seconded, refreezing her hair.

"I see. Now then." Gracefully, Beatrice settled down on the settee across from them. Her face grew stormy. "What the hell happened last night? I spent all morning worrying that James would come knocking with an eviction notice, but there wasn't a single sighting of him! Stephan's letter barely held any information, if you can believe it. He is very much a man of many, many, many words."

"That's because I went and got something back from James for you, Mrs. C." Bernard reached into his greatcoat and pulled out a familiar rolled up piece of parchment. "I was told to give this directly to you."

Beatrice felt her heart skip a beat. She grabbed it, hands shaking as she unrolled it. "The deed!"

Bernard nodded. "Still made out to you and Santa, as well."

"So that's why he didn't come by today. He doesn't have the deed!"

Jacqueline smirked. "He's also a bit frozen to the floor."

"Literally?"

"I'm sure he's thawed by now! Probably."

Bea harrumphed. "You should've frozen him right solid."

"She almost did!" Bernard said. "She was having a rough night, which worked out in our favour."

Lady Beatrice looked thoughtful for a moment. "So would your...brother then be—?" She left the question hanging, knowing second hand the nonsense Stephan had had to deal with from him.

Jacqueline looked down, and nodded.

"Ah. I thought you look familiar. I can see some of the resemblance. I'm sure, given last night, there's quite the story there."

"Perhaps one day I'll tell you the whole thing, but last night, I realized that I'm not to blame for any of his actions." She looked up proudly. "It was never my fault."

"No, it wasn't," Bea smiled softly. "And I'm very proud of you, and delighted that you're part of my close circle of friends, Jacqueline. It'll be nice to have someone to talk about all the magic and fantasy Stephan's job entails!"

Jacqueline positively glowed at that.

"I'm surprised you only just realized that now," Beatrice continued. "A brave young lady like you? You're a Frost worth knowing. In fact, next time I see that brother of yours, he'll be very sorry we crossed paths that day."

Jacqueline's eyes looked a bit watery. She brushed them dry. "Oh, there's no need, really—"

"Pah! He's always up to something and it does my heart good to give him a piece of my mind every so often. I suppose, Bernard, being your long-time confidant, was exactly who you went to see yesterday evening in such a rush."

"And it turns out he was just down the road!" Jacqueline said, noting how fast Mrs. Claus had picked up on that. She was good.

Bernard nodded. "I was at the lodge, hunting for the deed. Jacqueline decided to help me. We did a bit of a number on the place."

"I never go there nowadays, so it's really not a problem, Bernard dear. Now then! I'll let Ambrose know to give my callers a sincere apology, for I am otherwise engaged today. And the two of you are going to tell me everything."

"Everything?" Jacqueline asked, as Beatrice opened the door and gave instructions to the attendant closest to them.

"Everything."

Bernard smiled. Classic Beatrice. "Of course."

And tell her everything they did.

Bernard and Jacqueline took turns explaining what had happened. Jacqueline was particularly enthusiastic when she explained how she had taken care of James's troublesome friends. Mrs. Claus had laughed and sipped her tea eagerly, and had cried tears of joy when Bernard had laid out the evidence they had collected and explained how it had all connected.

"We'll have this case gift wrapped with a nice little bow in no time at all," Bernard was happy to say.

"I certainly hope so," Beatrice replied, happy to hear it.

The kids had gotten home, delighted at the news and very excited to know that Lady Frost was quite literal herself. Beatrice had never felt more at home then she did when Jacqueline made it snow in the parlour (which they moved to once the kids had arrived), and Stephan had arrived at that very moment.

The rest of the day was spent making plans, and drawing up the case. A court date was set.

Finally they could put this matter to rest.

April 1732, English Countryside

He was a laughingstock.

His brother had come down hard on him, and had presented the court with positively damning evidence. James insisted that it wasn't legitimate, seeing as how Stephan had sent his little elves to break and enter. He had sounded crazy! And the barrister and Lady Beatrice's companion had insisted they had never set foot into his home!

For that's what it was now, James thought as he nailed the final screw into the horseshoe above the door. They had drafted a settlement that James would have been a fool to decline. A tidy sum each month, and the Lodge to call his own, as well as a full staff for the Lodge? No jail time, no nothing?

What else could he do?

"I say, Clifton! That's quite a lot of horseshoes, don't you think?"

"I'm still on the fence, Mathew. Perhaps another couple would suffice," he said, stepping down from the ladder. Three horseshoes now sat above the doors to the lodge. Three was a good number, and horseshoes would stop fae. You see, he'd been reading up. Looking into fairy tales and children's stories and such. He knew full well what he had seen and so did his friends. And they all knew what those two elves had done.

They had reduced his status to nothing. James Clifton was a laughingstock! The joke of the season!

He vowed he would get every last myth and legend that existed, and bring them to justice for what they had done to him.

The Clifton Society, he'd call it. An exclusive hunting club.

A special hunting club.

They would pay for what they did to him. They would all pay.

Starting with his dear, dear brother: Father Christmas.