Does no one wonder that the Snow Queen and Father Christmas live in the same location?

Once we were rivals. I brought gifted children to my castle and taught them the best of magic and science. He summoned small imps from another dimension to help him conquer my kingdom. He sent waves of troops, but my people held them back. I rule the north. 

When that failed, he attempted to destroy my reputation. He told about a mirror and a stolen boy.  I had trouble recruiting students. My kingdom grew weaker. The tale inspired a girl to walk all the way to the frozen north. She discovered that her Kay had died badly in my rival’s service. 

I comforted her as we planned to end his tyranny. Once Gerda was old enough, we lured Niklaus into taking a mistress. The spells were easy to cast on a drunken man. Gerda channeled all the time she lost, all the pain she felt, and her frozen rage. 

Now, his realm and his minions are mine. I cannot send his demons back, so I make them work. They carve playthings, sew dolls, and build trains. They hate every second of it. 

Once a year, they get to serve their master who is only allowed to be conscious and sober long enough to deliver the gifts. From high enough up, “Help! Help! Help!” can sound like “Ho, Ho, Ho” to the untrained ear of people who do not speak our language. 

The students who come here seeking a toy maker are told the truth. They like learning about magic, and their spells make the trains become iPads as the decades pass. 

Every December 24, we feast in honor of Gerda’s victory and wish everyone in the realm a Merry Christmas.