A Twisted Christmas

Chapter Twelve

"Hohoho. What brings you here, old friend?" The king smiled, showing his yellow tinted teeth when Krampus walked forward.

"I have some things I need to verify."

"And what would that be?" The man asked with a chuckle before pushing up his spectacles.

Calm down. As much as his arrogance annoys the hell out of me, I won't act out. The dark prince took a step towards the glamorous throne. "A lot of the things that I've seen here... confuse me. Why is Elsva so morbid now? What happened to the excitement and joy that used to be spread through the town?"

"Well, it's obviously much better now. Much more..." He placed his finger on his chin, looking up at the golden chandelier in thought. "Efficient, don't you think? The elves make more toys, the reindeers work harder than before now that the females and offsprings are gone, and we have record-breaking amounts of good children every year!"

Krampus bit down his on lip to keep from screaming in frustration. "You know that's not what I'm talking about. Why did you tell the people I was dead? It doesn't make sense!" He clenched his fists, letting droplets of blood fall from his pale, trembling knuckles. "Why did you not follow my advice and treat our subjects better? Why the hell are there corpses in the junkyard?"

King Santa smirked, crossing his arms when he looked down on Krampus. "Oh, you should understand by now, my dear boy; it's because the elves are weak. I generously cut the small thread of hope they had with lies and what do they do? Band together in a foolish attempt to overpower me."

He chuckled after swallowing down more sweets, "But the results were fruitless. Just bloodshed and wasted effort. They didn't understand. Don't you see? They need me. I realized something long before I banished you: without me they'd be a pack of savage, untrained animals! I am their saviour. I am their sun!"

The king paused to push down the cookies in his throat with milk before staring at Krampus with misty grey eyes. "This is my love; I want my children to become great guardians for the next generation, and this is the only way to guide them."

Krampus said nothing for a few moments. His eyes were shut while he tried to understand what the king was blabbering on about.

He drew in slow, steady breaths to calm the beast that raged within him before asking with a dead voice, "What, you think you're God now?"

At that, King Santa guffawed. His mighty laughter echoed through the castle, shaking the fragile walls and bringing icicles to the ground when he stated, "No, I am much more powerful than some measly god. I am Santa Claus."

Looks like someone groped his ego while I was gone. Ugh. "That's wonderful, Gramps. Now back to my other question; why are there corpses in the junkyard?"

King Santa took this time to observe his nails when he nonchalantly answered, "They didn't listen."

Breathe. Breathe. Speak calmly. Don't react. "What did you tell them to do?" Krampus asked, his tail swinging furiously behind him.

The man clad in red and white robes scratched his head and sighed. "It wasn't too difficult; all I told them to do was bring their children to work. There weren't enough toys to take around the world and I needed more by midnight. But, they didn't oblige."

"So," he started before drinking a red substance, "I had their families kill them. Pity, they were such hard workers. Now I have to give the living elves more hours."

Krampus clicked his tongue, keeping a fixed gaze on the checkered floor. Vanilla was right; he really is a tyrant. A horrible, delusional tyrant. The prince felt ashamed to carry the same title as the wicked man.