To Ne'er Come Down Again

Braving the frigid cold, driving wind, and pitch darkness, outside the front door of his home, Anon softly cursed to himself. It was Hearth’s Warming morning, nearly an hour before the sun had risen, yet there was a reasoning behind his masochistic madness. While he hadn’t planned on his growing brood to mature at such an alarming rate, learning to speak and walk over the span of mere months, he was not about to forsake such a momentous occasion.

He’d absolutely loved waking up on Christmas morning, back when he was a kid, so paying the favor forward to his offspring was a must. The denizens of Equestria had a similar holiday, called Hearth’s Warming, so he figured it couldn’t hurt to overlay a few of his homeland’s traditions - if only for the sake of fun. Earlier in the month, before the seasonal rush had become too hectic, he’d executed a hastily laid and, according to Chrysalis, foolhardy plan.

Considering he hadn’t expected his brood to become so damn smart so damn fast, he’d had to improvise his scheme on the fly. Mercifully, after a lengthy explanation to Rarity, he was able to procure a red suit with white trim, hat, and an accompanying sack for the toys and candy he’d bought at the pharmacy. His grand, merry design honestly wasn’t all that difficult to pull off - well, besides having to deal with his mate.

Chrysalis had insisted that the concept of Hearth’s Warming, as well as Christmas, was idiotic; he wholeheartedly disagreed with her, of course, and so disregarded her chiding lamentations outright. If he’d had a happy holiday as a child, by thunder, so would his progeny. Without her approval, being left to fly his operation wholly by his lonesome, he’d gotten up extra early to surprise the little ones - that was, after he’d gotten dressed.

With his slacks fastened around his waist, and his shirt stuffed with a number of pillows, he secured a big, bushy, snow-white beard around his face. Truth be told, he probably made a piss-poor rendition of the heartwarming character, but he’d be damned if that was going to stop him! Slinging the massive bag of goodies over his shoulder, with his cap firmly lodged on his head, he stealthily let himself inside and crept down the walkway.

Growing ever-closer to the dwelling proper, listening for any signs of life, he kept deathly silent. The entire point of subjecting himself to the bitter cold, in the wee hours of the morning, was so he could surprise his multitudinous hive of youngsters with a happy, holiday ambush. Sadly for him, as he was quick to discover, the tables were about to be turned.

No sooner did he slink through the kitchen and into the living room than a brilliant flare launched towards the cavern’s ceiling. The sudden blinding illumination would have been startling enough, had it not been for the twenty-two softly glowing eyes trained on him. Caught completely off guard, bewildered beyond belief, he watched as Chrysalis strode towards him.

“Hide, my children! I will fend off the Santa-Claws!” she blared, igniting her horn.

Anon’s confusion mounted, as dazzling, albeit completely harmless bolts of magic splashed over his frame. Most of the hatchlings bolted for cover, scampering behind or under the various bits of furniture, though two of them stood frozen in shock. It was a chaotic, bewildering scene, made all the more so by the dumbfounded man in a Kris Kringle getup.

Stepping over towards his lover, he cautiously lifted a hand. “Chrysalis, what are you-”

“Gah!” the Matriarch bleated, wobbling to the side and gently crashing to the floor.

As Anon instinctively leaned forward and reached for her, hoping she was alright, she batted his hand away. None of it made any sense; she knew he was going to wake up the gaggle of colts and fillies with some holiday cheer, so why would she...His eyes shot to her face, spying the coy, wicked grin she bore, before she rolled to her back.

“Save yourselves!” she blares, waving at the hoard of little ones. “He’s too powerful!”

It was at that moment that all hell broke loose. The hatchings, having seen their mother felled by the intruder rallied; bursting from their hiding places, bawling or issuing the tiniest of war-cries, the hoard assaulted the festive man like a drove of puny berserkers. As they flung themselves on him, fiercely nibbling away with their little fangs, he was overcome.

“Stop hurting our mom!” one shouted, jamming a petite horn into his calf.

A particularly ferocious one sailed up and plastered herself on his face, doggedly gnawing his hat. “Our dad is gonna beat you up!”

Figuratively and literally overwhelmed, Anon stumbled back. He wasn’t sure what to think; on one hand, the pride he felt for his brood was immeasurable - on the other, he was heartbroken that they didn’t recognize him. Kneeling down, as the situation spiraled out of control, he gently shoved his offspring away.

“Kids,” he began, extracting the filly from off his head, “it’s me!”

Having prized the hatchling from his countenance, he pulled off his fake beard and hat. The mass of pint-sized changelings all froze, flabbergasted by the revelation. While he was relieved that their siege had come to an end, things took yet another unexpected turn. A particularly bold colt - Frost, if he had to hazard a guess - leveled a hoof up at him.

“So you’re a bad guy too, Dad?” he squeaked, askance.

“What?” Anon blurted, taken aback by the assertion. “No! I’m Santa Claus!”

“I don’t see any claws,” a filly noted, lifting and inspecting his hand. “Oh! Can you grow claws like Mom?”

Anon shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. He shouldn’t have been surprised that something would go away, since Christmas wasn’t really a thing in Equestria. Shooing the little ones away, clearing an area before himself, he unseated the sack on his shoulder and placed it on the floor.

“Santa Claus isn’t a bad guy,” he corrected, opening the bag, “he visits kids and -”

“And abducts them?” someone interrupted, evoking a groan from the man.

“No!” Anon groused. “He shows up on Hearth’s Warming and -”

“If he’s not bad, why does he show up to steal colts and fillies?” another soft voice inquired, interrupting him yet again.

“Presents!” Anon finally blared. “Santa Claus brings presents to good foals!”

“Awwww,” the brood disheartedly lamented, losing some of their interest in his tale.

Doing his damnedest to fight off the Pavlovian response to smile, lest they latch to the notion of some twisted parody of holiday merriment, he began doling out gifts to the kids. While he wasn’t exactly angry with his mate’s deception, he needed to act fast. The last thing he needed was for a cluster of changelings to think that some mysterious and terrifying creature would break into houses to torment foals.

“Santa Claus is a nice person who would never bring presents to bad little foals!” he clarified.

“Wasn’t there another one?” Chrysalis noted, pushing herself up.

“I...I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied, pleading ignorance.

“Yes you do!” she insisted. “Some great big thing with horns! Krumpus, was it?”

Mentally kicking himself, Anon shook his head. He had explained some of the various holiday lore of his homeland to her, though he then wished he hadn’t. In the past, while they’d gotten to know one another better, he’d talked to her about Santa Claus and his wicked counterpart, the Krampus. Glaring over at her, he menacingly lifted a finger.

“It’s Krampus and, no, he’d never be a problem,” he firmly stated. Turning his head, peering down at the bustling drove of hatching, he smiled. “Not because all of you are such perfect little bedbugs!”

Watching his young excitedly unwrap and play with the flimsy toys, knowing he had the good presents stashed in his room, he heaved himself up and stepped over to his lover. She was a cheeky shit for turning the tables on him, but he loved her all the same - if anything, he found her little trick rather clever, even if it had upended his plans for the morning.

“Bit of a shame, really,” Chrysalis offhandedly remarked, keenly observing the foals.

Cocking his head, Anon quirked a brow. “What’s a shame?”

“I may need to take part, next year, since you did mention the Santa Claws having reindeer,” she murmured.

Shuffling back, with antlers effortlessly sprouting from her crown, a downy, spotted coat coalesced over her body. The aesthetic was decidedly deer-like, yet it retained her natural coloration and several changeling bits of anatomy - namely her porous legs and fangs. The look was definitely a unique take on the hallmark holiday creatures, yet something told him there was an ulterior motive to her offer.

Reaching up, tapping one of the bony protuberances on her head, she stepped over and brought her muzzle to his ear. “Handlebars…”

Anon gulped, realizing what she was gunning for - still, he couldn’t help himself. Caressing her side, gliding his hand over her fur-covered body, his palm came to rest on her haunch. “I guess I could stuff your stocking - if we can get a few minutes of privacy for ourselves.”

Her sinful chuckle sent an excited shiver up his spine, as her forked tongue teased his ear. “Santa, I’ve been bad,” she purred, reaching up to fondle his sack.

For all intents and purposes, the day had kicked off with a downright cluster fuck. He’d scared the kids, besmirched the good name of Old Saint Nick, and he was more than likely going to plow his lover in what would undoubtedly be the first ever porny rendition of Christmas that Equestria had ever seen - that being said, things weren’t that bad. Straightening up and plastering himself to Chrysalis’ side, gazing at the mass of cheerful little drones, he cleared his throat.

“Who wants breakfast?”

Though Hearth’s Warming may have started with a few hiccups, he wasn’t all that bothered; even though things hadn’t gone the way he would have liked, there was always next year - not to mention a whole host of other holidays throughout the year to make up for it. Strolling towards the kitchen, with his mate at his side and a procession of hatchlings in his wake, he peered at his family; regardless of the headaches they caused, they were the greatest gift he could ever ask for...