1.
Bernard sat at his desk.
This was hardly unusual.
As Head Elf, he spent a lot of time at his desk, doing monotonous paperwork when he'd rather be doing something else. But this time, it wasn't paperwork that had put him there; it was Santa directly, and Bernard couldn't decide if that was better or worse.
For starters, Santa Claus had gotten a call from his father in Hawaii that morning. Surprisingly, Scott was actually on decent operable terms with his father, despite the physical distance that had existed long before he'd donned the suit.
"Hi dad. What's up?" A casual greeting, which belittled the strain Scott was already under. Already he had a situation on his hands with the Handbook, and besides this there was another, less fathomable problem clinging to the outskirts of the Pole's boundaries. But it wasn't often his father asked him for favors, so Santa knew the situation must be dire indeed. He was correct, and what had followed had been a serious and lengthy conversation.
After Santa had hung up the phone, he had sat by himself in the safety of his office, taking in the news and processing it alongside his other existing issues. Slowly, over the course of several painstaking hours of studying, planning, and some sustaining cookies and cocoa, he had a rough idea of what needed to happen. Luckily for everyone involved it seemed he would be able to take care of two problems at once, which would give him more time to worry about the third, more dangerous one.
When he was moderately satisfied with his plan, he sent for the two people he knew could help him sort the situation out.
Bernard should have taken it as a warning when he saw Scott's telltale grin of satisfaction, and excused himself with whatever means necessary. But he didn't, and that would have more of an effect than he ever could have known.
"You rang, sir?" Curtis scrambled into the office, taking up position beside Bernard and flashing his superior a slightly embarrassed grin. Ever since the escape clause incident, Curtis had been on his best behavior to prove that he didn't deserve to be fired. Demoted to the research and development section twas bad enough, but then, he quite liked the lesser burden of responsibility, and the free time he had to work on his projects. He had come to consider the fact that maybe he just wasn't cut out for management, after all.
Bernard narrowed his eyes slightly and turned back to Scott, tilting his chin up ever-so-slightly. Needless to say, he was still searching his heart to find forgiveness for what Curtis had allowed to happen in his absence. It may have been some eleven years since the Escape Clause Incident, but that wasn't long at all in the life of an elf. Scott may have been able to let the situation go, that was human nature to forgive and forget. But Bernard didn't have that advantage, and had been grudging to forgive the mistake that Curtis had made. He had finally given him the chance to play head elf, and he'd completely blown it. It had actually cost them Christmas, but luckily, Scott had been able to reverse the effects of the Clause in time. That level of mistake was hard to just drop—or maybe that was just Bernard being a scrooge. He honestly didn't care if he was somewhat scrooge-like from time-to-time; someone had to keep their head screwed on when it seemed like they were the only person keeping things from descending into chaos.
"Bernard, Curtis, great. Just who I wanted to see."
Bernard frowned. "I gathered. Like Curtis said, you did ring."
Scott gave him a look. "Alright Bernard, don't get your tinsel in a tangle." He adjusted some books on his desk, a few papers fluttering to the ground. "We need to talk. First off, I'd like to ask you to both take a seat. This may take awhile."
Bernard and Curtis exchanged uncomfortable looks. Eventually Curtis shrugged, and scampered off to find a chair on the opposite side of the room. Bernard, with his ability to perform better magic, simply conjured one up for himself with a careless wave of his hand. By the time Curtis returned he was sitting down comfortably with a smirk on his face—a smirk that quickly became a grin when Curtis scowled in irritation, huffing from the weight of the chair he'd just dragged over.
"What seems to be the problem, Santa?" Bernard asked, stretching his legs out and crossing his ankles while Curtis plopped exhaustedly down in his seat.
Scott was sitting across from them with his glasses perched on his nose. "Well boys, some things have come to my attention this morning that need to be discussed."
"Uh oh." Curtis coughed, suddenly uncomfortable. He squirmed a little in his seat. "If this is about Chet, I'll deal with it, I promise. I had no idea he knew where we kept the oat cakes, and if I had known he knew, I never would have left him without supervision."
"No, this isn't about Chet," Santa said while scanning a large book in front of him, a finger trailing the page. "Though if you have one more mistake this month I'll have to ban you from the floor, Curtis. That's the third incident this month, we can't have that kind of clumsiness!"
"Sorry, Santa," Curtis replied, clearly dejected. He was staring at his lap in shame, cheeks a bright red. To say that his path to redemption was a long, difficult one was an understatement when he was so clumsy.
"Don't stress yourself out over it, just do better, okay?" Scott smiled at him reassuringly. Curtis gave a half-hearted smile in return.
"Well then if it's about the quotas being a bit short, I've already got it under control." Bernard scowled, crossing his arms. "Apparently, some of the elves down in packaging decided to take a few 'unauthorized breaks'. It won't be happening again."
"No, this isn't about quotas either." Santa looked up at his elves, serious for once. Scott wasn't deathly serious very often. Generally speaking, it wasn't a good sign—not at all. "Whatever the issue with the quotas is, we'll pull through. We always do. No, what I have to discuss with you two is a bit less routine than all that."
"Go on," Bernard prompted, a feeling of dread settling in his stomach.
Scott sighed and picked up and envelope from his desk. "I received this letter in this morning's Santa Post. I think for understanding's sake you'd both better have a read."
"A bit early for writing to Santa…it's only August." Hesitantly Bernard reached out and took it, tilting it to allow a single sheet of notebook paper to slide out into his hand.
Dear Santa, it read,
I'm not sure if I should be writing to you, since technically I don't believe in Santa Claus. I know that St. Nicholas is real, and he visits my house every year on December 19th. At least I think so. But then I thought maybe you were the one delivering for him nowadays, so I decided to write you anyway. I don't know for certain what the truth is, but I need some help.
My daddy is very sick, Santa. I'm scared. He has cancer, and every time he seems to be getting better Dr. Calvin gives us bad news that something else has gone wrong. They don't say so, not to me, but I think the grownups expect him to die. My sister Ellington is scared too, but she doesn't talk about it. She likes to be strong, so I don't feel so afraid. She's seventeen and really smart. She would be in college by now if Daddy wasn't sick all this time. I just wish she had someone to talk to about everything, cause she doesn't really have any friends, besides me. There just isn't time, with how many chores we have to do and how busy we are. Could you find her a friend, for Christmas? If you could, it would mean a lot to us both.
My family needs a miracle. I'm asking God for one already but I thought it would be good to ask for all the help I can get. Santa, if you can do anything, please, let my Daddy live. I'm not sure if I've been good all year or not, but I won't ask for anything else, I promise.
Thank you.
Sincerely,
Annise Connelly
Bernard looked up over the edge of the paper, speechless. He found Santa watching him with tears in his eyes and smiling sadly.
"That's…remarkable," Bernard said quietly. He cleared his throat and passed the letter and its envelope to Curtis. "You don't always see that kind of selflessness in kids these days."
"My thoughts exactly." Santa leaned back and laced his fingers on his stomach thoughtfully. Curtis was reading the letter, dabbing at his eyes with a red kerchief. "I was even more surprised when my father called me out of the blue, about these same children."
"How does he know them?" Bernard asked hesitantly, confused.
"He's the doctor treating their father, apparently."
"Dr. Calvin, right."
Curtis leaned far forward and passed the letter back to Scott, then proceeded to loudly blow his nose. This garnered yet another roll of the eyes from Bernard's quarters. "And he seconded what the girl said. Their father is on his deathbed, and won't live to see the spring."
"That's…terrible," Curtis said.
"But I don't see what we can do about it."
"That's a cold thing to say, Bernard."
Bernard tilted his head. "Santa, you know that I would like every child to have his or her Christmas wish."
"Yeah, sometimes I wonder if you only feel that way out of obligation…" Scott muttered. Bernard ignored him.
"But you and I both know that granting prolonged life is outside of Santa's abilities. It belongs in the hands of Mother Nature, Father Time…and several other magical sprites that don't have seats on the Council but are nevertheless very powerful. Life is one of the only gifts you are unable to give."
"What about when people ask for babies?" Scott asked, raising an eyebrow in challenge.
"Really Santa, you've been in the suit for almost fifteen years. You don't know this stuff by now? Those requests are contracted out to the Stork. And besides, most humans can take care of that on their own." Curtis, rather inappropriately, broke down into giggles. With a frown, Bernard scowled and upslapped the younger elf.
"OW!"
Scott was too preoccupied to notice. "Then it's a good thing I noticed this earlier this week." He searched his desk for something, eventually holding up a section of the List.
"Naughty or Nice?"
"Nice, obviously!" Santa found himself having to refrain from glaring at Bernard. "I thought it would be a good idea to at least check to make sure before I got involved. Sure enough, this is the listing for the Connelly children."
"There are only two children under Connelly on this List," Curtis noted.
"Precisely. Dottie Connelly is on the Naughty List. She also doesn't live with her siblings, but with her birth mother in Seattle. The other two live with their father and mother in Hawaii."
"Interesting family dynamic." Bernard didn't know why he was being so cynical, but it was coming to him naturally just then and he didn't feel much like checking it.
"Note the mark next to the names." A golden embossed stamp was next to each of the girls' names: a swirling SC and a half crescent of words and numbers.
"Ref 9274." Bernard said aloud. Instantly Curtis was bouncing in his chair.
"Ooh ooh! That's a reference to the Handbook." In a flash he had said book spread out on his lap, turning it to the appropriate page and adopting his serious reading voice. "'Reference 9274: the Emissary Clause."
"Exactly. Another Clause. Which is why I'd like to know why it wasn't brought to my attention before. I thought there were only the three Clauses: Santa, Missus, and Escape," Scott went on, turning through the pages of his own abbreviated copy of the Handbook that he kept for casual usage. "Now there's the Emissary Clause?"
Bernard sighed a long loud sigh, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. Already he could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on. "Santa, there are quite a few Clauses, alright? They only come into play at certain times, which is the only time you, as Santa, need to worry about them. Besides, truly memorizing everything you need to know would take you several centuries—and just look at how Curtis turned out, trying to learn it all."
Curtis beamed for a confused moment before turning to his superior with an angry glare. Bernard, as per usual, paid him no mind.
"Well I haven't even seen this Clause yet, for your information," Curtis said sharply, pushing up his glasses with the pad of his finger. "It seems to have been Deadlocked…I couldn't have opened it even if I wanted to. So there."
"Deadlocked?" Scott's face was wrinkled in confusion.
"A deadlock is a particular type of seal, that involves magic and a set amount of time," Curtis offered up helpfully. "It's usually in Father Time's domain to set such seals, and he does so on a strict case-by-case basis. Whatever this Clause is about, it must be really important."
"'Every 550 years, an emissary must be chosen from among humans to visit the North Pole, be they lonely or without cheer,'" Scott read aloud musingly. "'All emissaries must be under the age of eighteen. All emissaries must be female. This practice must be observed every 550th year, with the exception of postponements. Such postponements may be made only by Santa or the Head Elf.'" He looked up, confused. "Well those are very specific instructions. You alright there, Bernard?"
"What? Yes, of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?" Bernard shrugged lightly, but his careless laugh was a little too high pitched. He seemed more than a bit uncomfortable with the situation—at least so Scott thought. His Head Elf was beginning to glance at the door every few seconds, and the looks in his eyes could almost be labeled as panic.
"Hmmm." Scott obviously wasn't convinced, but decided to let the matter drop. "So. Would somebody like to explain to me why this Clause says every 550 years, yet was, what do you call it…"
"Deadlocked," Curtis supplied.
"…Deadlocked, right. Why would it say 'an Emissary must be chosen every 550 years' if the Clause couldn't even be viewed until now?"
"Because it was…" Bernard's sentence trailed off into muttering.
"Something you'd like to share with the class, Bernard?"
"Because it was supposed to accumulate," Bernard repeated, staring across the table at Scott irritably. "That's the only logical reason, right? The only logical reason why it seems that it was almost waiting for these three girls, even though one is on the Naughty list?"
"True. Okay, we'll go with that. I like it. 'Supposed to accumulate'." Scott looked down at his book again. "Here in my copy it says to refer to the Unabridged Volume for further information. Curtis, what do you got?"
"Well, it's…" Curtis frowned, trying to unstick a pair of pages. After several unsuccessful attempts, he gave up. "It seems that the rest of the pages are still Deadlocked, sir."
"Until when?"
"It doesn't say."
Scott leaned back in his chair and sighed. "I'm not really sure if that simplifies things or complicates them at this point."
"What do you need us to do, Santa?" Bernard was clearly getting impatient now, as attested to by the fact that he was checking his watch, the wall clock, and the clock tower across the courtyard through Santa's balcony doors. "It may only be August but we're still on a schedule here."
"Oh come on, Bernard, don't be so soulless!" Scott gave his Head Elf an equally irritable stare. "These girls are, by some strange chance, our responsibility this holiday season—which means that you are going to be directly involved."
"Oh no."
Oh yes. See it says here in the Clause that the Head Elf is to be one of the supervising ah…what did it say? Chaperones. Rather applicable, really."
Bernard sputtered in indignation. "But Santa. You know I don't have time for—"
"Ah ah ah!" Scott wagged a finger at him. "You of all people know that there is no arguing with a Clause, Number One."
"Really? Number one? I'm your only head elf."
"As per your request, but if you ask me, the stress isn't doing wonders for your mood," Scott retorted.
Bernard scowled furiously down at the floor, eyes hidden beneath his hair and hat. Curtis was rather inappropriately grinning. It wasn't often he got to see Bernard put in his place by Santa himself, when usually it was the other way around.
"So here's what we're going to do," Scott announced decisively, taking charge of the situation. "It will take me a while to convene a Council of Legendary Figures to deal with the issue of their father's health—I'll also need to speak with my father about his case. In the meantime, the girls will fulfill the Emissary Clause for us. What were their names again?"
"Ellington, Dorothy and Annise," said Bernard, surprising both Santa and Curtis. He looked up, clearly annoyed. "What, am I the only one here graced with functioning short term memory?"
"Easy, mister."
"Or should I also overlook the fact that we have no idea what to do with that," said Bernard, and pointed to a large map on the wall. Not surprisingly, it was a map of the North Pole. But the map, although made of paper, moved. It was enchanted, of course, and the map kept track of many pathways and things. But the most notable development of late was that the boundaries of the Pole had turned a menacing shade of black, as an Unknown lurked on the horizon in a voluminous, undulating darkness.
"We don't even know what it is!" Bernard threw up his hands. "It's been a month, and we've made no progress!"
"No, we don't," Santa admitted, quietly but firmly. "Which is yet another reason why we should convene the Council. This kind of thing usually doesn't just go away on its own; I think we've wasted far too long waiting for that to happen already. No, something needs to be done." He sighed. "And the way I look at it, the more loose ends we finish off we might just be more likely to make it go away."
Santa snatched up the letter again. "I need three Chaperones, one for each girl. Bernard is obviously getting one—"
"I have work to do!" Bernard said, frusterated. "In case you've forgotten, I manage this place. I've got too much to do already, without having to drag some little girl around sightseeing."
"Which is why I'm giving you the eldest to deal with," Scott replied, pointedly level. "Ellington is seventeen, which is plenty old enough to behave herself. She won't need entertaining. Honestly Bernard, it'll be easier than you think. You'll have to make sure she doesn't post a bunch of photos online, but besides that teenagers are pretty self-maintaining. It should be smooth sailing after the first few days."
"This is a terrible mistake," Bernard gritted out, crossing his arms more tightly and clenching his jaw as if holding back a stream of arguments and possible insults.
Santa ignored him. "How do you feel, Curtis, about playing chaperone to our letter writer? Ten year old Annise?"
Curtis shifted in his seat. "Well, I'm...not very good around girls, but...I'll try. After all, asking for her father's health for Christmas is a very noble thing to do." His voice had gradually grown stronger and more excited. "Yeah, sure I'll do it. She seems like a nice little girl."
Santa smiled. "Good then. Now I've just got to find a chaperone for Dorothy, and we're set."
"Set for what?"
"Their arrival, of course!" With a few merry chuckles Scott got up from his desk, apparently very pleased with himself.
"I thought they were coming for the holidays, sir," Curtis asked, casting worried sideways glances at Bernard, who was now making strange strangled noises in this throat while trying not to burst out shouting.
"No, they're coming now. Now is when the need has arisen, now is when the Clause had revealed itself." After a pause he added, "They'll stay until Christmas, of course."
"That's five months," Bernard said, slowly.
"Yes, Bernard. It is five months. Thanks for the help, but I can count on my own."
"How are you going to take them from their family—from their sick unto death father –for five months?!"
"I have my ways," Scott said vaguely. Bernard rolled his eyes and huffed at this non-answer. "Now: in the meantime, I suggest you two start preparations for their arrival. They'll need rooms for sure, and clothes—it's much colder up here than in Hawaii and they won't exactly have time to pack. Get Abby to help you with that. I've spoken with Carol, and she's already agreed to help with getting them settled in. Hopefully they won't have trouble adjusting to the idea of living in the North Pole for a while, because that would definitely complicate things." With a sigh he rose, his chair creaking in relief. "I'm glad we've gotten this settled, guys. Thank you."
Bernard and Curtis had gotten to their feet before him, one decidedly more graceful than the other. Already a deep-set frown was set on Bernard's face, his mind retreating to a thoughtful, irritated place. "How long do we have?" he asked, his voice flat and unenthusiastic.
As much as Scott was aware of Bernard's usual sarcastic state of existence, he knew that his Head Elf had a soft spot for children. Normally, his stubborn behavior came from disagreeing with adults more than anything, so Santa was very much confused by the general lack of excitement—or even just resolve or preparedness—from Bernard's quarter. Already Curtis had squared his shoulders, a gleam of enthusiasm in his eye at the events ahead.
"About twelve hours," said Santa slowly, turning away from Bernard and trying to stuff down his worries. "There's a time difference between us and Hawaii. ELFS prefers nighttime pickups, if I remember correctly, so that will be around nine o'clock their time. And, since Seattle is three hours ahead of them, it'll be midnight there. I think that's the most workable time-frame."
"I'll let them know." Bernard began walking out of the room, eyes on the floor as he submerged into his own thought process. Thinking who knew what, Scott mused ruefully. Sometimes—no, often he wished Bernard were more communicative. Times like these it would make things that much easier.
"They've already been told—Bernard!" The elf paused mid-stride and turned, eyebrows raised. "What is the matter with you? It's not normal to be this detached, even for you. What is going on?"
Bernard stared into a vacant space midair for a long moment, as if lost. Then his head snapped up, and he gave Santa a small, forced smile.
"Nothing, sir. I can personally assure you that all the necessary arrangements will be made." With a tight nod and a tighter pivot of his heel, Bernard left the room, eyes already back on the ground.
Santa and Curtis stood together in a stunned silence for a moment. "What was in his cocoa this morning?" Scott muttered eventually.
Curtis seemed genuinely taken aback. "I don't think it was his cocoa—he was fine before this," he told his boss. "Something about this whole situation has affected him, and I'm not sure I even want to know why." The blond elf looked vaguely horrified at the idea.
Scott raised an eyebrow. "Bernard's emotions that frightening?"
"No," Curtis replied with a shudder. "But when he gets into a bad mood, you and I both know that's another story."
Hello and welcome everyone to TEC:Reloaded! For those of you who read the original story, The Emissary Clause, thanks for coming back. For those of you who are new to the story, I hope you enjoy it! If you're wondering why I've decided to republish this story, it's because there are a lot of things I don't like about the original that I never got around to fixing. I feel like my writing skills weren't up to par at the time and now that I've spent a great deal of time writing and interacting with other writers on tumblr, I felt I was more up to the challenge. Also, the general storyline and plot were very shaky in parts, I don't feel like I grasped the personality of my own OC well and SO MUCH of the story was just...cringy.
You may have noticed chapter 1 is pretty similar to the original. There are things in this version that will be the same as the first TEC, but there are a LOT more things that are different-and I like to think they're improvements. In short, this story might be better! It might be worse. It's a toss-up, really. I've been working on this rewrite for several months now and have the chapters up to chapter 19 completed, so we'll see how frequently I'm able to update! I'm aiming for every day, if possible.
I also owe a huge debt of gratitude (as usual) to SafyreSky (Dani) who I originally met almost three years ago now in this very category, BECAUSE of The Emissary Clause and especially her own stories. Even if I don't like my original story much I'm glad I wrote it because it meant I met and got to know an amazing writer and an even better friend. Thanks for putting up with my rambling and venting as I went through this rewrite, as well as feeding me headcanons and incredible ideas. (Also in case you were wondering at the title, it's what we've been calling it all this time and I couldn't think of a better one.)
From now on I will be keeping my author's notes to a minimum except for my disclaimers so that you don't all have to deal with me (lol) but I ABSOLUTELY appreciate and enjoy reviews, so if you do feel like leaving one, I'd be very grateful. This has been a long project and it'd be pretty cool to know that someone else enjoys the end product too.
As always, thank you for reading my work and please enjoy the story!
Disclaimers:
I am not Disney or Disney affiliated and therefore do not own any rights or credits to any characters, concepts or places portrayed in or from "The Santa Clause 1, 2, or 3". The only thing I own is my own creative work and original content and characters, including the Connelly family, the Emissary Clause and Elle herself.
Many characters and concepts are borrowed/used shamelessly from the works and headcanons of SafyreSky, all rights and credit go to her for coming up with such incredible ideas. These include but are not limited to the Legate concept, Jacqueline Frost and the portrayal of many other non-canon/canon characters.