Even here in the stubbornly tropical south, where Christmas only comes in one color (green) and the number of truly cold days in December can be counted on one hand, winter brings with it a curious juxtaposition of sensations. Warm firelight flickers in the depths of the longest, coldest nights of the year. It is touted as a time of good cheer and merrymaking, of hygge and holiday spirit—but it is also a season of death and hibernation. For some, it is a comforting reprieve; for others, it is achingly lonely.

The Holly King and Oak King myth of Wiccan tradition is a perfect reflection of this delicate balance, giving faces to both the light and dark aspects of the season to ground these concepts in something a little more concrete.

The Tale of the Holly King and the Oak King

Like any good legend, the Holly King and Oak King myth is a shapeshifter—it changes depending on the teller. The version I find most compelling tells us this: The Oak King is the sun king, reigning supreme over the warmer months when the sun is brightest and the days longest. The Holly King is his opposite, a shadowy figure who revels in cold air and dark nights. As the seasons change, so too does the power—and the favor of the Goddess—shift from one to the other.

This power, however, is not granted by one to the other peaceably. It is taken by force, in the heat of battle, when one kills the other. Some traditions hold that Yule—the winter solstice—marks the day of the Oak King’s death, when the Holly King takes the crown. His power waxes until the spring equinox, then wanes until Midsummer, when the Oak King returns to retake the throne and continue the cycle.

Other traditions shift the timing so that the battles take places at the equinoxes instead, with the solstices marking the height of each king’s power—making Yule the day (or, more to the point, the night) on which the Holly King is most powerful.

Regardless of timing, the idea remains the same. One kills the other, only to be killed themselves when the first comes back from the dead with a vengeance. It is bloody, but somehow beautiful, at least to me. The imagery alone is something straight out of an epic fantasy—a dark king crowned with holly and a bright lord cloaked in oak leaves, engaged in an endless battle for the love of a goddess and the rule of an earthly kingdom. And, just like many a fantasy tale, it’s rife with symbolism.

Symbolism in The Holly King and Oak King Myth

The Holly King and Oak King themselves are, of course, symbols in their own right. The red of the holly berries and the plant’s ability to not only survive but thrive in the depths of winter have granted it magical properties in the eyes of some, and many, of course, associate it closely with Yule, Christmas, and the holiday season in general. Oak, meanwhile, is often associated with wisdom, life, and strength. The Holly King, specifically, represents winter, night, and darkness, while the Oak King is a personification of summer, daytime, and light.

An entire book could be written (and more than one likely already has) about all of the possible ways in which the Holly King and Oak King myth could be interpreted. It is a study in the balance of equal opposites, with each king ruling over exactly half the year, their victories and zeniths poised on converse points of the wheel of the year. Their story is a reflection of the cycle of the seasons, the circle of life and death, and somehow supports both the impermanence of things as well as the notion that nothing ever really ends.

Above all, however, this myth is a story about duality, not just in the world around us but in ourselves. For the Holly King and the Oak King, for all their differences, are in fact one and the same–at least according to some versions of the myth. Rather than two completely distinct beings, each are said to be aspects of the Horned God.

In other words, the battle of Holly versus Oak is an internal struggle–a single god forever battling himself.

Holly vs. Oak: Pitting Characters Against Themselves

If you’ve ever taken a creative writing class or read a book about writing, you’ve probably heard that conflict is the key to a compelling plot. The most interesting characters in the world, after all, won’t be all that interesting to read about unless you give them something interesting to overcome–whether or not they actually manage to overcome it.

The Holly King and the Oak King, then, is the perfect place to look for writing inspiration. Several types of conflict are at its heart, including:

• Man versus Man (technically, God versus God), the most obvious conflict of the story—Holly versus Oak;
• Man versus Nature (or more accurately, Nature versus Nature), the struggle to overpower an existing natural force–in this case, winter battles to defeat summer, and summer to defeat winter;
• Man versus Fate, as both kings fight for a crown they know they ultimately cannot keep—and against a fate they know they cannot avoid, even though they are gods;
• Man versus Self, as two aspects of the same god kill one another over and over again in a vain effort to become the dominant ruler.

And this is perhaps the most important reason why this myth remains so compelling–even to those for whom it is only a story, rather than part of their religious or spiritual tradition. It is not just a story about a battle between two kings. It is a story with layers of conflict, both internal and external, each reflecting the others in a veritable hall of mirrors.

In short—all good stories contain conflict, but a great story, one that will stay with your readers and follow them from one season to the next, will contain multiple conflicts, both internal and external, not all of which can be satisfyingly resolved. Sometimes, it’s not about winning or losing–it’s about finding a way to survive in a world in which things both constantly end and never end.

Final Thoughts: On Light and Darkness

As intriguing as the duality and conflict present in the myth of the Holly King and Oak King are, however, there is yet one more takeaway one can–well, take away–from this story. And that is this: That even the longest, darkest night must eventually give way once more to the sun.

And so, regardless of whether you believe in the Holly King and the Oak King, Santa Claus or Krampus, or something else altogether, I wish you the happiest of holiday seasons. If you are cold, I wish you warmth. If you feel alone, I wish you good company. (You can even contact me, if you like.) And if you feel lost in the dark, remember: this feeling will not last. Change is the only inevitability. Light will come again; it always does.

And if you need a little extra magic to get you through this season, feel free to check out The Harbinger’s Head, a darkly fantastic interactive novel inspired by Irish mythology. Or, amuse yourself with the free demo for The Dragon’s Last Flight, a potentially romantic visual novel—depending on how you play it—coming soon to an internet near you.