With help from AI.
In the snowy heart of the North Pole, Santa's workshop buzzed with the usual holiday chaos: toys being painted, reindeer being fed, and elves darting about in their green-and-red tunics. But tonight, on Christmas Eve eve, tension simmered in the air thicker than hot cocoa steam.
Two of Santa's most devoted elves—Liora and Elara—had been rivals for years. Both were petite, pointed-eared beauties with sparkling emerald eyes and hair like fresh-fallen snow. Liora had fiery red curls that bounced with every sassy step, while Elara's locks were sleek silver-blonde, framing her sly, knowing smile. They were the top gift-wrappers, the fastest sleigh-loaders, and, secretly, both utterly smitten with the big man himself: Santa Claus.
Santa, with his jolly laugh, rosy cheeks, and that warm, commanding presence, had unknowingly captured their hearts. Liora adored his kindness, the way he'd pat her head and call her "my little star." Elara melted at his deep voice giving orders, dreaming of stolen moments by the fireplace. For years, they'd competed subtly—baking him the best cookies, crafting the perfect scarf—but tonight, it boiled over.
It started in the wrapping room after hours. Santa had just praised Liora's intricate bow on a massive teddy bear gift. "Brilliant work, Liora! You're a wonder," he'd boomed, giving her a twinkling wink before heading to check the naughty/nice list.
Elara, who had been watching from the shadows, seethed. She'd spent hours on her own ribbon designs, and he hadn't even noticed. As Santa's footsteps faded down the hall, Elara stormed over to Liora, who was humming happily while tidying ribbons.
"You think you're so special, don't you?" Elara hissed, hands on her hips. "Always fluttering those lashes at him. He's mine, you curly-headed pest!"
Liora spun around, eyes widening in mock innocence before narrowing into a glare. "Yours? Please. Santa's been smiling at me all season. You're just jealous because he actually notices my work. Back off, ice queen!"
The words hung in the air like icicles ready to snap. Then, without warning, Elara lunged, grabbing a fistful of Liora's red curls. "I'll make you back off!"
Liora yelped, more in surprise than pain, and retaliated by snatching Elara's silver braid. "Oh, it's on!"
The two elves tumbled into a whirlwind of fury on the plush carpet of discarded wrapping paper. Ribbons flew everywhere as they rolled, kicking and clawing in a classic catfight frenzy. Liora pinned Elara first, straddling her waist and tugging hard on that perfect braid. "Say it! Santa likes me better!"
"Never!" Elara bucked wildly, flipping them over with surprising strength for such a lithe elf. Her nails raked lightly across Liora's cheek—not enough to draw blood, but enough to sting and leave red trails. Liora hissed like a feral cat, wrapping her legs around Elara's and twisting to reverse the pin again.
They scratched and pulled hair, tunics ripping at the seams from the thrashing. Cheeks flushed, breaths coming in hot puffs of frost in the chilly air. Liora landed a playful slap across Elara's face, making her rival's head snap to the side. Elara responded by grabbing Liora's collar and yanking her close, their faces inches apart, eyes blazing.
"You're nothing but a show-off!" Elara growled.
"And you're a sneaky thief trying to steal his heart!" Liora shot back.
The fight spilled into a pile of soft teddy bears, muffling their grunts and giggles—because even in rage, there was a spark of elven mischief. They wrestled fiercely, bodies entwined, hair disheveled, pointed ears twitching with adrenaline.
Suddenly, a deep, jolly "Ho ho ho!" echoed from the doorway.
Both elves froze, tangled in a heap—Liora on top, hand still in Elara's hair, Elara's legs locked around Liora's waist.
Santa stood there, arms crossed, beard twitching with amusement. His eyes sparkled brighter than the tree lights. "My, my, what have we here? My two favorite elves... settling a dispute?"
They scrambled apart, faces burning redder than Rudolph's nose, smoothing torn tunics and fixing hair.
"Uh... just... practicing wrestling for the reindeer games, Santa!" Liora stammered.
"Yeah... totally!" Elara added, avoiding his gaze.
Santa chuckled, stepping forward and placing a gentle hand on each of their shoulders. "No need to fight over an old fellow like me. There's plenty of holiday cheer to go around. Now, how about you both help me with the sleigh? Together?"
The rivals exchanged a glance—half glare, half sheepish grin—and nodded.
As they walked out arm in arm (grudgingly), the workshop felt a little warmer. Maybe the catfight had cleared the air... or maybe it was just the start of more rivalry. After all, Christmas magic thrives on a bit of spark.
And Santa? He just smiled knowingly, wondering if next year he'd need to hire a referee.
