A/N and now the story gonna really begin...

His cold fingers fumbled with a loose thread on his coat, winding it around his index finger tighter and tighter and tighter until it faded to purple. The speeches happening buzzed as background noise, paying no mind to them he prodded at his numb finger, almost as numb as he felt inside.
Alexander released the thread and glanced up, seeing his mother's face. Her eyes were hollow, glazed over like winter puddles, cold and still. Her skin was pale and waxy, extra pale against the black of her thick cloak and long dress. His eyes then shifted to his father, a different book but the same story. The pain in his eyes could murder a battalion.

Then he saw James, his dark hair neatly framing his solemn face. He had matured plenty, his features now chiselled and strong. He was a handsome young man when he was alive, now he just looked sad. Everyone did.
The coffin was dark stained cherry, it's glossy red glow a sharp contrast to the stark white snow gently fluttering down, getting caught in eyelashes and kissing cherry noses.
As stunning as the scene was, Alex just wanted to throw up. He'd shared his memories, he'd said his farewells, now he wanted it to be over.

He meant no offence to his brother in saying that, he loved him dearly, but it was a late funeral. Alex had already done most of his mourning in the weeks prior, and having to revisit the topic was slicing back open a wound he'd been trying desperately to heal.
James' death came as a shock to everyone, right at the peak of November, and with Christmas fast approaching it seemed that Alex was the only person who was desperate to get the final preparations underway.

Perhaps it was now habits from being James' right hand man that were making him think like this. James wasn't the most focused Santa the North Pole had ever seen, he did rely on Alexander an awful lot to keep things running smoothly, not that Alex minded however. It provided him with a warm sense of validation, reminding him that he was needed here, but now that James was gone- well, what came next? Alexander was 21 now, his birthday taking place right at the start of the year, the 11th of January, but he was in no way prepared to take on the role of Santa Claus. It took years of training, James could tell you, and he didn't find a Mrs Claus at 16 like James did.

His father would have to step back in, then Alexander could continue as right hand man, nothing would change, his job would just consist of less micro-managing and more actual assistance.
Alex hadn't even realised the service had ended until he felt a firm hand on his shoulder, his eyes flickering up to watch the coffin lid close.
"Alexander." A familiar voice murmured, smooth and calm.
"Burr." Alex breathed with relief, turning slowly to face his old idol. "Good-evening."
"To you too," Burr nodded politely. "Care to accompany me back to the Claus house?"

Alexander hesitated, knowing how this would all unfold. He didn't want to deal with a 20 minute trip of 'I'm sorry for your loss', so he shook his head gently.
"Thanks for the offer, Aaron, but I was actually just going to go- uh, take some time for myself, if that's okay." Alex spoke slowly, his tone sheepish. Aaron met his uncertainty with a warm smile of understanding.
"Take your time, we'll all be there when you're ready to come back."

"Thanks," Alex's lip tugged into a tiny smile, watching Burr turn and walk back with the rest of the operatives.
Alex sighed through his nose, a tiny cloud puffing in front of his face. He waited for the crunching of snow to fade away before he began making his way further out into the cold, disappearing into the white abyss.

It was 8pm when he returned, four hours since the service. Most everyone had left their humble home, leaving his parents to inhabit the kitchen. His father stood by the island bench delicately carving up slices of pumpkin for the dinner he was preparing while his mother sat perched on a stool, keeping a cup of peppermint tea warm in her gentle hands.
"Alexander, darling, you're blue." Martha frowned when she saw him, standing from her seat and moving towards him with her cup of tea in hand.

"I'm sad, yeah, that's not new." Alex murmured, averting his gaze as one of his mother's warm hands reached up to hold his cheek, sending a buzz of warmth into his skin.
"No truly, you're blue dear, let's get you in front of the fire," a small, sad laugh escaped her lips and she took his hand, guiding him to the fireplace and the armchairs in front of it.
Alex forced a small smile, taking a seat in the large plush red chair closest to the fire, his mother helping remove his thick winter coat. "Where did you go, after the service?"

"The ice skating rink, I went and sat there for a bit, James and I used to go there plenty," he lied, his mother smiling softly and nodding. That was a good lie to tell, it made his mother smile. Martha grabbed a quilted blanket she had sewn herself and laid it over his lap. "Coffee?" Alex shook his head, his mother surprised that he was turning it down. "When was the last time my youngest son said no to coffee?" She forced a small laugh. Your only son, now.

"I'll just wait for dinner, thanks M0m."
He watched as she retreated back to the kitchen to finish her tea, his father putting everything in the oven. For a moment, the whole house was silent, no creature was stirring.
"Dinner's ready." His father's voice boomed, snapping the tense atmosphere like a slate of old gingerbread.

Alex stood on shaky legs and made his way over to the dining table, sitting in his usual seat beside where James would typically reside.
They ate in silence for what seemed like hours, Martha only breaking it once to mention Diane, James' Mrs Claus, had returned to her home in Melbourne, Australia.
The silence continued, suffocating the atmosphere before Alex couldn't take it anymore. It needed to be said.
"So, Christmas,"
"That's what we do, what about it?" George murmured, his gaze flickering between his son and his plate.
"Who's, uh... who's gonna be Santa now?" Alex spoke suddenly. He didn't mean to sound so insensitive, he only realised how bad it did sound when both of his parents stopped eating to stare at him. They then glanced at each other, communicating through subtle changes in expression.

"Do we have to discuss this now?" Martha whispered, breaking her gaze away from her husband and continuing to shift food around her plate.
"Christmas is in less than a month Mom, yes," Alex frowned, shifting to watch his dad. "Dad are you-"
"I don't have- I can't." His father sighed, dropping his cutlery to his plate and pinching the bridge of his nose. Alex placed his knife and fork on his plate as well, squinting slightly.

"What do you mean you can't? You just have to hop back on the sleigh and throw the presents down the chimneys, right? That's all you have to do, I'll do everything else back here." Alex began to argue, leaning forward a little in his seat.
"Why can't you do all of it as well?" Martha blurted suddenly, biting the inside of her cheek as soon as she'd spoken.

Alex stared at her for a moment before throwing his head back in laughter, causing her to jump in surprise. His father furrowed his brows in confusion.
"What's so funny?"
Alexander continued to laugh, lowering to a snicker as he regained control. He soon came to the realisation that nobody else found that remotely funny and his expression fell.
"Oh come on. Me? Fuckin' Santa Claus?"
"Language." George hissed. "And yes, your mother and I have been doing some discussing, and we think you're our best option. You've been on the scene, you've watched how it's been done, you know all there is to know, you just need the red suit."

"No, no no no- I-I don't have a clue what I'm doing, or a Mrs Claus, or a right-hand-man! Why can't you- or Aaron? Make Aaron do it! I'll be his right hand man!" Alex demanded.
"Not if he's yours." His mother chimed in, shrugging gently.
"Well what about the Mrs Claus situation, I can't just hook up with Diane, she was James' soulmate or something,"
"Well you can find your own, we'll take you to the soulglass," his father spoke slowly after a brief pause. Alex's stomach dropped and his mouth went dry.
"I- I have a month to court her, how the hell am I meant to convince some warm-land dwelling human to put their life on hold and come date Santa Claus? At 16 you capture the last of the magic- she'll be too old! Nobody would believe me."

"The right one will." His mother nodded slowly. "Come on, we haven't got a moment to waste."
"What? No I'm eating my dinner!" Alex frowned, quickly grabbing his cutlery again and sinking into his seat like a toddler with a temper.
"You were the one who interrupted this dinner to discuss saving christmas, now you can get up and help us." George spoke firmly, standing to join his wife. He watched his son, Alex avoiding eye contact stubbornly. "Do it for James, Alex."

Alex held his breath a minute, glancing over to James' empty seat, before giving in. He let out an exasperated sigh and shot up from his seat, marching after his parents out to the front door.
"Let's get this over with." He growled, grabbing his coat and throwing it on with a scarf and some thick winter boots.

Martha and George led their son from their house and through the snow, towards the main workshop where a hill came into view. Upon the hill was a large predominantly silver building. To Alex it looked like some kind of evil villain's lair, the big silver dome with a giant telescope-like beam extending from the roof directly up towards the sky. He'd never been inside, only the Santa finding his Mrs C can be in there, otherwise results could get muddled up. They approached the building and George stopped at the door, passing Alex a large golden key.
"Wow, subtle," Alex snickered.

"Your great grandpa loved to embellish on all these little traditional things." George grinned, pressing the cold metal into his palm and closing his fingers around it. "We'll be right outside, son,"
Martha was remembering sending James in all too well now, her eyes becoming glossy as she watched Alex sigh and nod, taking the key over to the large silver door.

He slipped it in and twisted sharply, a series of clicks snapping the air before the door swung open, revealing the pitch black inside. Alex didn't look back, he didn't ask what to do, he felt like he already knew.
He stepped inside, reaching back to gently push the door closed behind himself. When he heard it click the darkness enveloped his senses, unable to see anything, his ears actually ringing with how silent it was. "So uh, I just stand here?" Alex questioned the air, walking to where he thought the middle of the room would be. On his fourth step Alex felt his foot dip and gasped, looking down to see the tile below him ignite with a warm golden glow. The glow spread through the floor, sparking up the walls and revealing the entire room. It was only small, but the walls were all engraved with intricate patterns, all imitating the delicate designs found on snowflakes.

Alex couldn't help the small smile that snuck to his lips at the sheer beauty of the room. It took him a while to notice the round table in the centre. He crept forward, cautiously approaching it, analysing the surface which seemed to ripple like water, though it was more milky, a smoky substance that reflected as holographic. Curiosity got the best of him and Alexander dipped a finger tip in, and then a whole hand, his breath hitching in his throat at the buzz of energy coursing up his arm.
Slowly he pressed his hand in deeper, submerging his arm until a force took hold of his wrist, yanking his entire torso under. Alex thrashed fearfully, panicking and trying to pull his head back out, but he was trapped under, running out of breath.

He opened his mouth to scream, tasting- eggnog? What the fuck is this stuff-
Alex opened his eyes, suddenly freezing. In front of him swirled a stunning array of colours, whizzing by and wrapping around him. Alex couldn't explain what he saw, but it was pure magic.
Slowly he let the rest of his body slip into the substance, now floating in an abyss of shimmering lights. Alex barely had time to enjoy it however, as things began to change, the colours shifting faster and slowly forming shapes. Around him the world began to transform, Alex spinning into unfamiliar territory.

He soon was able to make out a figure- small, perched on a wooden stool. It was feminine, leaning over what soon formed to be an easel. The setting built around them as an art studio, numerous other people scattered around the room painting. Alex focused on her though and smiled a little, the colours swirling to form a concentrated expression on her delicate features. She glanced up and smiled, looking just past Alex.

He felt a comfortable warmth, turning as well to see where her gaze was set when he saw a young man also leaning over his own easel. He guided a brush across his paper with long and languid strokes, a splattering of freckles adorning his features. Alex's heart fluttered when the boy looked up, stunning glossy eyes making the whole world freeze.
"Eliza, how's yours g-" he began to speak, Alex catching the soft melody of his voice before it faded away along with the image of him. Alex looked back over to see Eliza one last time, opening her mouth to silently respond before the colours escaped, erasing her image.

Alex suddenly sat up and he burst from the shining substance, gasping for air with a massive heave. He sat in the small pool, breathing heavily for a moment and raking his hands back through his hair.
"Eliza," he murmured out loud, smiling a little to himself, but the smile soon faded. He remembered the way he felt looking at the boy, and it was pure euphoria, but that must've been Eliza making him feel that way. It had to have been. She was gorgeous too.
Santa Claus didn't get to marry a Mr Claus.