Page 134 of Velveteen vs. The Consequences of Her Actions

At the center of the room was a chair on a short pedestal, elaborate enough to almost qualify as a throne, covered in more crystals until it looked as unwelcoming as a frozen briar. A woman sat atop it, seemingly unaware of the sharp spikes around her, and the light radiated out from her body, blurring her features and making it difficult to say what she looked like with any certainty. She was old and young, short and tall, fat and thin, all at the same time. She turned her head so that she was facing Velveteen and the others.

“You threaten me?” she asked, and there was a note of almost-amusement in her voice, a certain wry astonishment that made her sound like she hadn’t been surprised in centuries. “Me, who is the living heart of Winter, who anchors the season you refused?”

“We didn’t come here to threaten you,” said Velveteen.

“I did,” said Victory Anna.

“Not helpful, sweetheart,” said Polychrome. “We can talk about the wisdom of threatening functional gods in their own domains later, when we’re safely back home.”

“With our Jack,” said the Princess.

Aurora turned her attention on the ball-gowned superheroine. “Your Jack?” she asked. “You’d claim ownership over her now? I’m not sure she would thank you for that.”

“She’s my best friend,” said the Princess tersely. “She’s mine and I’m hers. That’s how friendship works, out in the world where the real people are.”

“I haven’t been there for a very long time,” said Aurora. “Here, we’re unreal people, and we play by the rules that govern stories, not the rules that govern societies. No matter which version of her you want to talk about, the girl you call Jack—and you’re not all talking about the same girl, don’t think I can’t tell the difference—broke the rules of her story. She acted against the narrative baked into her bones. That sort of thing has consequences, or the whole narrative structure breaks down. Why should I risk the entire season I command to undo the willful mistakes of one tertiary spirit? She’s not Santa. She’s not even Jack Frost. She’s just a story to tell the children when their hands are full of wrapping paper and their eyes are full of stars.”

“Because this is entirely your fault,” said Velveteen.

Aurora’s head snapped around as she turned to face her. “What?” she asked, voice gone low and dangerous. “How dare you say that about me, when both times, Jack’s choice has been made to save you. If this is anyone’s fault, it’s yours.”

“The Seasonal Lands are supposed to exist parallel to the Calendar Country, not interfere,” said Velveteen. “There has to be contact between them, because the Seasonal Lands need to gather animus heroes in order to function. They can have more charismatic and well-known heroes as their figureheads, but there’s an animus at the root of every season.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I know it about the three seasons that tried to claim me. Winter, spring, and autumn all depend on an animus at their foundations. I’m assuming summer is the same. It explains why the Seasonal Lands would touch on the Calendar Country at all: if they only ever existed as a receptacle for our stories about seasonal things, they wouldn’t need that strong of a connection. But they need more than that. They need the occasional animus or they don’t function.”

“How does this translate to the Lady of the Northern Skies being in any way at fault for what’s transpired?” asked Victory Anna. Velveteen looked at her, and saw the longing plain and blatant in her eyes. No matter how much Santa tried to remind her that Aurora wasn’t one of the winter figures she knew and loved, she wanted her to be. Maybe even needed her to be.

If this came to a fight, there was every chance the gadgeteer would side with Aurora over her friends, at least at first. Vel couldn’t even blame her for that. Victory Anna was a woman without a world, and that had to wear on her more than she let anybody see.

“When I was still a junior-grade hero, the Seasonal Lands found out I existed,” said Velveteen. “I was one of only two animus-type heroes left in my generation—me and Tag—and my powers were more conducive to the services the seasons need an animus to perform. Only I wasn’t going to be strong enough to serve until I was older. But two out of the four seasons decided they didn’t want to wait for me to mature. They wanted to get their bids in early. Autumn started abducting me whenever they had a problem that needed to be solved. Winter went for a softer touch.”

“Vel?” asked Tag, uncertainly. “What are you talking about?”

“I’d forgotten, just like I’d forgotten Jackie, until Santa mentioned it,” said Velveteen. “It’s so easy to go with the story in front of you, and not go digging for memories you aren’t supposed to have anymore. Easy, and a little terrifying. Who are we, if we’re not our memories? When I was a kid and doing The Super Patriots Holiday Spectaculars, Winter sent their youngest Spirit of the Season to steal me away for a little visit. Jackie Frost. She took me to Santa’s Village. She said she was my friend.”

“She was your friend,” said Aurora, mulishly. “That’s the whole problem. If she’d remembered to treat you as an assignment and not a friend, we wouldn’t be here now.”

“But she didn’t,” said Velveteen. “She talked to me. She visited me. She came to play with me when she thought she could get away with it. And when The Super Patriots painted me as a villain, she stuck with me. Almost no one else did, but she believed I couldn’t possibly have turned bad. Jackie was one of the first people who had faith in me, and I still barely remember her, because Jacqueline is standing where she’s supposed to be in all my memories.”

“And I remember Jacqueline showing up when The Super Patriots were filming one of their specials in my Park,” said the Princess. “She wanted an introduction to Velveteen, but she didn’t sneak, and she didn’t steal. She’s been one of my best friends for years.”

“You can’t have them both,” said Aurora. “It doesn’t work that way. Only one of them exists, and right now, neither of them does, and I’m not sure I want to let either of them be more than a footnote. The universe will fill that space with a new iteration soon enough, if we just wait it out. We’ve done pure selfishness and pure selflessness. Maybe this time we’ll get something halfway balanced. Krampus hasn’t had a daughter in a long while. He could be a decent target for what’s coming.”

“You’re avoiding the question, or the accusation,” said Velveteen. “This is your fault, and you’re too tapped out from holding the season together to beat me in a straight-up fight right now. The clever thing to do is to give us back our girl.”

“You keep saying that,” said Aurora. “What is it you mean?”

“Jackie broke the rules because she was trying to save what she cared about,” said Velveteen. “I don’t know exactly what she did, but at this point, I know enough to know that’s what happened. Well, no version of Jackie would have cared about us if you hadn’t sent her to the Calendar Country! You created this situation. She would never have given a damn if you’d let her be a concept, instead of forcing her to be a person. This is on you.”

* * *

Jacqueline straightened, looking at the woman in front of her, who eyed her with good-natured wariness, like a feral cat that knew hands could sometimes hit and sometimes offer tasty treats. She was glowing a pale, lambent blue, and her hair was snowy white. Jacqueline’s own hair was a pale, pale blonde, but the difference between the two was stark.

“So you’re my replacement,” said the blue girl. “I guess I should have known any version of me was going to be a fuck-up. Hello, fuck-up. What did you do to get yourself deleted?”

“I saved my friends,” said Jacqueline. “They were turning into dinosaur people, and I didn’t want that. I know what you did.”