A Hearth's Warming Tail-Kicking

by Ponygon

Rating: everyone
Tags: Comedy, Cutie Mark Crusaders, Adventure, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Main 6
Length: 7683

It's Hearth's Warming Eve, time for family, friends and tales of giant pony-eating cats. (Thanks Iceland!) Oh and don't forget the terrorists holding Twilight's guests to ransom. Why doesn't Twilight's Castle have guards again?

It's Hearth's Warming Eve, time for family, friends and tales of giant pony-eating cats. (Thanks, Iceland!) Oh and don't forget the terrorists holding Twilight's guests to ransom.

Why doesn't Twilight's Castle have guards again?

I'd also like to thank everyone who contributed their ideas on Book Abuse.

Published 2016-12-23 11:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2016-12-23 11:00:01 UTC

Hearth's Warring Eve

It was Hearth’s Warming Eve, and whether Twilight could have decorated the entire castle herself was debatable; her castle was very large, and she was its only occupant. She had no servants—Spike didn't count—or guards, the latter a huge oversight that may have resulted in the destruction of Equestria several times over. When pressed—by none other than the Cutie Mark Crusaders, of course—Twilight was very reticent on how many times Equestria had been destroyed, and by what methods. It probably didn’t matter: Twilight and her potentially life-destroying artefacts are clearly not important enough to be guarded, otherwise she would have had guards.

Perhaps that was why Twilight had invited all her friends and family to attend what she called the ‘Biggest Hearth’s Warming Eve Sleep Over Ever’. A cynic might have called it slave labour, but none of the ponies seemed to mind decorating her castle, and they even seemed to be having fun.

Smiling pegasus ponies strung tinsel and garlands from column to column, along cold crystal walls, and over doorways. Some of Applejack’s cousins had provided bushy wreaths, wrapped in red ribbon and bristling with shiny baubles. No doubt Twilight would follow the decorations into rooms she had yet to discover, but that’s a story for another day.

Everypony had a go at making straw Santa Goats, and soon there was a herd of the distinct straw dolls, decorated with red ribbon, scattered across the castle. Some had spindly legs, others were stouter, one of them wore a bowtie and fez. There was even one made from a cloud, though no one was sure why Rainbow Dash had been so adamant on her unconventional choice of material. It didn’t matter in the end; straw Santa Goats were the indoor equivalent of Snow Ponies and if a pony wanted to make one out of cloud, then that was fine. There were limits, though. Little Rumble’s entry had been a little bit too immature; a few stallions had winced when Cheerilee had dealt with it.

“So, you knitted yours?” asked Scootaloo as she poked the small woollen goat on the table, or at least, she presumed it was a goat.

Sweetie Belle smiled with satisfaction at her creation. It wasn’t anywhere as good as Rarity’s, and even she had to admit that it looked more like a platypus with horns, but it was her work, and she was proud of it. “Yup,” she exclaimed enthusiastically. “I wanted to try making another one but there just wasn’t enough time.”

A delicious aroma reached the girls, heralding the arrival of Apple Bloom. Not that Apple Bloom is delicious, unless you mince her up and put her in a meat pie. Pony pie, that’s good eating; but once again, I stress, she has not been baked into a pie. No, the delicious aroma came from the cookies on the plate balanced on her back.

“Wow, Apple Bloom, those smell great!” exclaimed Scootaloo.

Sweetie Belle nodded. “They really do,” she agreed. “I thought you said you were going to make cranberry, though.”

“Yeah, Applejack helped,” responded Apple Bloom, as she added her offering down on the table. “There’s still cranberries in it, but there’s apple too.”

Scootaloo rolled her eyes. That was all the explanation she needed. Applejack could be a bit controlling sometimes. One of these days, she was sure Applejack’s controlling nature would result in a catastrophic accident with several ponies, and bits of wood and wheels flying everywhere. That it would be catastrophic went without saying. You could only experience catastrophic comeuppances in Ponyville; there were no other flavours.

Speaking of which, Apple Bloom had added her cookies to a bounty of food and drink. There was egg nog, hot wassail and mulled wine. There were luscious fruits: ruby red cranberries and apples, glistening grapes, vivid orange satsumas and plump damsons. There was also a chocolate Hearth’s Warming log, whipped cream and cloudberries, mince pies and the disappointingly named Barm cakes (they were just bread rolls). To go with the Barm cakes there was Mushroom and Chestnut Wellington, roasted carrots glazed with honey, parsnips, and verdant Brussel sprouts. There was a plethora of different cookies of varying shapes: hearts, snowflakes, and Santa Goat. In the centre, a large silver dish-cover sheltered something that Doctor Time Turner, the local coroner, had claimed to be ‘figgy pudding’—which the Cutie Mark Crusaders weren’t supposed to touch because of its high brandy content.

“No, Scootaloo, not yet,” chided Cheerilee quickly before the pegasus filly could snatch a cookie from the table. “We’ve got to wait for Twilight and Starlight.”

“Where do you think they are, anyway?”

“Well, it’s a big castle.”

“I think Twilight’s giving Starlight some story time,” said Pinkie Pie with a suggestive waggle of her brows.

“Twilight’s reading a story without us?” exclaimed Scootaloo in disbelief.

“Come on, girls, let’s go!”

“No!” shrieked Rarity suddenly. “Uh, I mean, you shouldn’t really. I don’t think it would be appropriate… I mean, the story she picked.”

“Why?” asked Pinkie. “I’m sure it’s just A Hearth’s Warming Carol. I mean, what else could it be?” She tilted her head back as if in thought, and didn’t notice the deathly glare that Rarity gave her. “Then again, we all know the only good Hearth’s Warming Story is the one where a colt is left home alone and has to fight off thieves with booby traps made from household items.”

Rainbow Dash laughed. “Are you kidding me?” she exclaimed. “The best is clearly the one where a Hearth’s Warming Eve Party is crashed by a group of thieves pretending to be terrorists, and one cop has to take them all down bare-hoofed!”

Scootaloo had to admit that one sounded even better. She could never get into A Hearth’s Warming Carol. It was amazing how a story with ghosts in it could be so boring.

“You think Twilight’s got that?” exclaimed Scootaloo. “We should go see!”

“Oh no, Scootaloo, you’re staying here,” interrupted a grey pegasus mare as she dropped in front of the orange filly. “You shouldn’t go running off like that. The same goes for you two.” She fixed Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle with a stare.

Applejack nodded. “Derpy’s right,” she said. “We’re all waiting for Twilight and Starlight, so it just won’t do to go running off. ’Sides, she’s pro’ly ’bout done right now.”

“But Twilight always tells the best stories,” protested Sweetie Belle.

“Now, girls, you’ve got to be good or else Santa Goat won’t give you any presents,” said Rarity. She flicked her mane back with a light toss of her head. “If you don’t get any presents, the Hearth’s Warming Cat will get you.”

“Sis, I don’t think now’s the time for that story,” said Sweetie nervously.

Rarity shook her head. “Nonsense, Sweetie dear,” she protested. “The Hearth’s Warming Cat is a traditional Ice Pony story and we are one-fourth Ice Pony.”

“Wait, what?” exclaimed Apple Bloom. “Who in tarnation’s the Hearth’s Warming Cat?”

“You mean Opalescence?” asked Scootaloo.

“Please don’t sing it,” pleaded Sweetie Belle.

“No, I have to now,” responded Rarity as she begun striking out a solemn beat with her hooves. “Because, unlike Pinkie and Rainbow’s stories, this is clearly the quintessential Hearth’s Warming Eve story.”

Seemingly out of nowhere, a marching drumbeat filled the air—oh, wait, no, that was provided by Pinkie (obviously). As if planned, a small group of stallions nearby started humming the beat, followed by a small group of mares. The tune sounded ancient and decidedly unlike the schmaltzy festive songs of the modern era.

Rarity closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she began:

“Gather around and listen well,
Hush and don’t make a sound.
I’ll tell you about a Beast from Hell
That walks the frozen ground.”

The unicorn mare gestured towards a window as she continued:

“It’s prowling out there, this cold eve,
The Hearth’s Warming Cat.
It doesn’t care if you won’t believe,
It’s out there on your doormat.”

“It’s eyes blaze with Tartarus fire
That forged its iron claws!
Its whiskers are strong as steel wire;
Sharp teeth fill its monstrous jaws!”

“It peers through the windows in each house,
Seeking its favourite delight.
I’ll tell you now, it cares not for mouse.
It seeks pony flesh tonight!”

“It seeks pony flesh,” sang the female choir.

“It seeks pony flesh tonight!” sang the male choir.

This wasn’t your typical Hearth’s Warming song. The tune and the lyrics marched to a drumbeat that Equestria hadn’t heard for a very long time, a drumbeat of war.

“If tonight you hear a baleful meow
That echoes across the land.
There’s no use in hiding anyhow,
You might as well make your stand.”

“It seeks out the wicked and naughty,
Those who have been bad all year.
It seeks out the poor and needy;
They also have much to fear.”

“It eats all these ponies for dinner
And smashes their houses to pulp!”

Rarity mimed striking a house with her hoof as the choir sang the exact same words.

“It eats all the poor and the sinners
With one gigantic gulp!”

She snapped her teeth for emphasis before she quietly continued onto the next verse:

“And after it’s done with its feast
The cat will hunt for more.
There’s always plenty to feed this beast
Behind each pony’s door.”

Scootaloo turned to the fireplace. It still blazed merrily but she felt the cold chill as of a Windigo. She wasn’t scared. There was just a draft, that’s all.

“This Hearth’s Warming Eve just spare a thought
For the poor and their sad plight.
They’re all thrown in with the naughty’s lot
And will not last the night.”

“If this Hearth’s Warming you wish to save
Them from their feline debtor,
It’s not enough for you to behave:
Give the poor a wool sweater.”

“For the bad cat can’t eat anypony
Who’s received a knitted gift!
The Hearth’s Warming Cat will go hungry
And run away real swift!”

“You might have a mind to spread some cheer
That only kindness can bring,
To give ponies a Happy New Year
And Merry Hearth’s Warming!”

Rarity slowly settled back down on to the ground with a big smile on her face, her chest slightly heaving. She hadn’t sung like that in a long time. “So, girls,” she began. She frowned. “Where’d they go?”

There was a distinct lack of Cutie Mark Crusaders in the Grand Hall. Presumably they’d snuck away during her performance, but how? She could have sworn she’d had them in her sight all that time. Hadn’t she? She sighed irritably. Rarity had no doubt they’d gone to pester Twilight about Hearth’s Warming Eve stories. Either that or Scootaloo had finally caught sight of her elusive parents, which was impossible because they were clearly stuck on a runaway Friendship Express that would explode if it went above or below fifty miles per hour. That, however, is a story for another time, because it clearly had nothing on your archetypal Hearth's Warming story, which—contrary to everypony’s earlier suggestions—we all know is the one where an inventor and his dog go to the moon for some cheese.

Yes, Pinkie, ‘that one’. I will fight you.

“How do you do it, Pinkie?” asked Rarity in reference to the earth pony’s other job of foalsitter to the Cake twins.

There was no response from Pinkie, though. Not because she’s arguing with me about which is the best Hearth’s Warming Eve story. No, she’d lost interest even in that (because she clearly would never win); her focus had subsequently turned to the stallion choir.

“Rarity, who are those stallions over there?”

One of the ponies was a grey unicorn with a neatly trimmed brown beard. The others were a long-maned blond Pegasus stallion—who was not Zephyr Breeze—and a black earth pony with glasses. There were others too, but they were so clearly background ponies, so nobody paid them any attention.

“Not sure.”

Pinkie’s gasp echoed across the room and somehow managed to silence every other pony there. “Oh… my… gosh!” she exclaimed. “You’re right! I don’t know them either, and I know everypony, because I make it my business to know everypony, because how else would I be able to throw a pony a birthday party if I don’t know that pony, so if I don’t know these ponies they must be new, and that means I must throw them a Welcome-to-Ponyville-on-Hearth’s-Warming-Eve-Party, and it’ll require a whole new set of decorations, and cakes, and…” She ran off, still talking a storm about what she needed to do.

* * *

As has been previously stated, Twilight’s castle was large, much larger than the Princess of Friendship ever needed it to be. That hadn’t stopped the Ponyville residents from spelunking deep into its crystalline nether regions with Hearth’s Warming decorations. Twilight would be taking them down for months afterwards, discovering entirely new rooms in the process.

“Perhaps Twilight isn’t down here,” suggested Sweetie Belle as she looked around her. The corridor they’d found themselves in was clean, so at least Spike must have been through there at some point in his life, but it was devoid of Hearth’s Warming decorations. “I think we should turn back.”

Apple Bloom shook her head. “She must be down here,” she protested.

“Yeah, you know how Twilight is,” agreed Scootaloo. “She probably forgot to put up the decorations.” She opened a door.

The eyes on all three fillies widened in shock and horror, as if they’d walked in on Twilight giving Starlight some rough loving care. Except, of course, we couldn't afford that particular age-rating, so that's definitely not what the girls saw.

No, what the girls saw was Santa Goat, except he was clearly not Santa Goat. Red ribbon wrapped round his torso and around each individual leg—as was traditional—but there was something vitally important missing.

“Doctor Turner?”

“Uh, ho, ho, ho! You must be mistaken, little fillies!” exclaimed the earth pony awkwardly. “I’m Santa Goat.”

“Without the horns?”

The Doctor quickly dived for a pair of goat horns and tried his best to strap them on his head. In his haste, he put them on backwards. “Horns? I have horns,” he protested. “I—I’m sorry, girls.” He lowered his head in shame. “I ruined everything, haven’t I?”

Apple Bloom glanced sideways at her friends. She didn’t know about them, but she knew Santa Goat didn’t exist. It had been the previous Hearth’s Warming Eve, which she’d spent with Pinkie Pie’s family. Apparently, Big Mac had always dressed up as Santa Goat every year (he wore green ribbon instead of red), but that particular year, the plethora of females had made it impossible for him to find a good place to change. The place he had chosen had caved in on him and when the Pies had dug him out, Apple Bloom had caught sight of the ribbons on his body that were so intimately associated with the Hearth's Warming gift-giver.

“Why are you dressed up like Santa Goat?” asked Sweetie Belle.

“It’s not Nightmare Night,” added Scootaloo in agreement.

“Well, Santa Goat is… very busy this year,” said Doctor Turner slowly, “so… he asked for volunteers?”

Apple Bloom had to admit that was a good save. Maybe if Big Mac hadn’t been knocked senseless by the rocks, he’d have come up with a similar excuse. Actually, probably not.

“How come he didn’t ask Rainbow Dash?” wondered Scootaloo aloud. “I’m sure she could deliver all the presents in ten seconds flat!”

The screaming suggested that not everyone agreed with her assessment.

“What was that?”

* * *

“Ladies and gentleponies,” announced the bearded unicorn from the mysterious backup choir, “due to Princess Twilight’s legacy of interference across Equestria, she is about to be taught a lesson on real power.” He smiled as he watched his henchponies herd the Ponyville residents towards a corner of the Great Hall. It had been easy, far too easy to sneak into the Castle of Friendship. “You… will be witnesses. If our demands are not met, however, you may become participants instead.” He then glanced meaningfully at Rainbow Dash, whom lay unconscious on the floor. “Now, where is the Princess of Friendship?”

“And who wants to know?” snapped Applejack angrily.

The bearded unicorn smiled. “Applejack, isn’t it; Element of Honesty?” he said rhetorically. “How do you do? I’m Horn Scrubber.” His smile grew colder. “So, you know where the Princess is?” He received a defiant glare that he was all used to seeing on other ponies. “I see.”

With his magic, he pulled Fluttershy over. “Remember how I said you could be witnesses or participants?” said Scrubber calmly. “Where’s Twilight Sparkle?”

The two ponies stared at each other, a battle of wills. Sparks didn’t literally fly between them, but no one would have been surprised if they had. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife and probably would have been cut with a knife if Discord had been there.

“You rotten no-good snake in the grass!” cursed Applejack angrily. She would have chosen far stronger language but there were foals present.

“Please, dear, don’t hurt Fluttershy,” protested Rarity. “Twilight’s in the kitchen!”

Scrubber shook his head. “No, I want to hear that from our dear Element of Honesty here,” he replied with a pointed look. “Where is Twilight Sparkle?”

“The library,” spat Applejack. “She’s in the library.”

Scrubber nodded. “Curl, Thrill, bring these two mares with,” he commanded with a gesture to Fluttershy and Applejack. “You, you and you, come with me. The rest of you, guard these ponies. If they so much as try to resist, please escort them out… of this life.”

* * *

To think the Cutie Mark Crusaders were now honorary Santa Goats. Not that there were enough fake horns to go around, but there was plenty of thick, red ribbon. All they needed was some wrapping paper and they could have been walking, pony-shaped presents. Apple Bloom even had a bow.

“You think we get to ride a sleigh?”

“It’d be so cool going down other pony’s chimneys,” exclaimed Scootaloo excitedly as she pranced excitedly, her wings gifting her a tiny bit more loft with every leap.

“What about the fires?”

“Good ponies are supposed to put out their fires and be in bed,” pointed out Sweetie Belle. “Santa Goat doesn’t like being set on fire.”

Doctor Turner stopped in his tracks. He looked around him wildly. “Is it just me or have we passed that door five times now?” he asked with a nod in the direction of the offending inanimate object. “Then again, all these doors look so similar.” He shifted from right foreleg to left forleg as he thought about his options.

Sweetie Belle looked up. There still weren’t any decorations. No pony had clearly been down this corridor in a long time.

“You stay here,” said Doctor Turner. “I’m just going to see what’s up ahead.” He smiled. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

Halfway down the corridor, he stopped in his tracks. His ears flicked back. Thankfully, he could still hear the fillies, but he still looked back just to make sure. They were still there. He sighed in relief. How could he be so silly? These were the infamous Cutie Mark Crusaders; telling them to stay in one place was just asking for disaster. They weren’t exactly devotees of the Lord of Chaos, but they were the closest thing Discord had to a religious cult without votive offerings and prayers.

“On second thoughts, you’d better all come with,” added Doctor Turner. The last thing he wanted was to go hunting for them in Twilight’s maze of a castle. “We don’t want—”

Something knocked him sideways. He crashed to the floor with a heavy thud.

“Well, what do we have here?” asked Scrubber as he approached the prone Doctor Turner pinned down by one of his anonymous mooks. “It’s not safe to be in these corridors.” He looked down the corridor and noticed the three fillies. “After all, there’s terrible infestation of… me. Put him and the fillies with the others.”

“Run, girls, run!” shouted Applejack.

Normally, the CMC would have argued but the urgency in Applejack’s voice was clear. The three turned tail and ran for their lives. Those ponies with Applejack were clearly bad guys. Except for Fluttershy, of course; she was obviously a pony in distress.

“After them! I’ll deal with this Santa Goat here.”

With a silent nod, two of the anonymous henchponies galloped after the Cutie Mark Crusaders. They didn’t get very far before the fillies darted into a room and slammed the door shut behind them. Not that that would stop them. The unicorn henchpony yanked the door open.

A book smacked him in the face. Another about the size of War and Peace struck him in the head and he went down like a sack of bricks. The other pony, a Pegasus pony, ducked underneath another.

“Hey, stop it you little brats!” he shouted before he ran into the room. With a roar, both of anger and pain, he rushed into the room. He dashed for where he thought the fillies would be, only for his hooves to land on empty air. “Where are you?” he shouted angrily as he whirled around him.

The room they’d entered seemed to be a storage room of some sort. There were shelves all around him but boxes were stacked on each shelf. Presumably Twilight had books that she hadn’t yet unpacked. There was no sign of the fillies.

“When I get my hooves on you, I’ll—!”

There was a thunderous bang. Something creaked horribly. He whirled round and looked up in horror as a bookshelf tilted towards him, the books sliding out.

“Fudge muffins!” cursed the henchpony as his ears flattened against his head.

Somewhere else in the castle, Spike shivered uncontrollably. He sensed the disturbance. Deep down, he knew he had a shipload of restacking to do.

Sweetie Belle pushed that thought from her mind. “Did we get him?” she asked. There were more important things to worry about than Spike’s workload; besides, Twilight would help him, right? Right?

“Yeah, we got him,” replied Scootaloo with a satisfied grin on her lips as she looked at their handiwork.

Most of the Pegasus pony had disappeared under a pile of boxes and the books that had spilled out of their cardboard confines. One leg managed to escape being crushed, though from the way it twitched, Scootaloo didn’t think the Pegasus pony would bother them for the foreseeable future.

“Who was that with Applejack?” wondered Sweetie Belle.

“Not sure, but they sure as hay didn’t look none too friendly,” responded Apple Bloom with a shake of her head.

“We’ve got to find Twilight and the others,” suggested Sweetie Belle.

“No, we can take ’em!” protested Scootaloo with a stomp of her hoof. “All we need is some tinsel, roller-skates and a clothes iron.”

“You can’t throw a party with a clothes iron, silly!”

* * *

“I’m sure we can iron out any difficulties,” said Scrubber with a big smile as he sat in front of the Princess of Friendship herself. “Just as we did with your friends.” He glanced to the bound unicorn, earth and Pegasus pony. “Now, will you tell us where you’ve hidden it?”

Twilight shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she protested. She looked behind Horn Scrubber; she could understand how he’d managed to subdue Fluttershy but Applejack and Starlight? Had she underestimated these ponies? “I’ve hidden nothing and even if I did, what makes you think I’ll tell a big bully like you?”

The grey unicorn sighed as he levitated a book towards himself. “A Hearth’s Warming Tail? A classic,” he exclaimed. He then smiled. “And hot cocoa?” he chuckled as he levitated an empty mug towards him. “There’s nothing quite like a story and a hot drink,” he asked as he placed the two together to emphasise his point, “now is there?”

A horrified gasp escaped Twilight as her heart leapt into the back of her throat. “That mug was dirty!” she protested.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” apologised Scrubber but he didn’t sound too sincere at all, especially if Applejack’s struggling was anything to go by. “Thrill, you’ve got better eyesight than me,” he called out, his smiling gaze still focused on Twilight, “have I blemished Her Highness’s book cover?” He tossed the book towards the black earth pony.

Twilight’s breath hitched in her throat as she watched the book fly through the air, its pages flapping in a horrifically aerodynamically poor manner. She would never throw a book. It would always be carefully levitated from one position to the other, the pages firmly clamped shut. It landed open, pages down. She squeaked in horror.

“Oh, Thrill, you are such a clumsy pony,” chided Scrubber with an increasingly large smile on his lips. “Why don’t you open it up and make sure the pages inside are still fine?”

“Yes, boss,” responded the earth pony before he opened the book. However, he bent the spine backwards.

Twilight’s scream of terror was heart-wrenching. “What do you want from me?” she gasped angrily.

“Access to your vault,” responded Scrubber.

“I don’t have a vault.”

Scrubber sighed with such theatrics he could have given Rarity a run for her money. He turned to the black earth pony. “Thrill, stop reading that book and come help me,” he said.

Thrill smiled at her. “Yes, boss,” he replied as his hoof hovered precariously over a page.

“Wait, no!” gasped Twilight. “Not the corner! I’ve got a bookmark! Not the corner!” She watched in abject horror as the earth pony folded the corner of the page. Ruined! The pristine smoothness of the page was now ruined by a dog ear. Their book-defiling had papercut her deep in her heart. “You monster!” she screamed. “You heartless fiend! Tartarus has no pit deep enough for the likes of you!” She breathed heavily.

“Where are your valuables?”

“THERE IS NO VAULT!” screamed Twilight.

Scrubber smiled. He levitated the book back to himself. “How interesting,” he said as he pulled out a pen from his pocket. “I’ll need to take some notes,” he said as he opened the book. “Now where is your vault and what is the combination? Depending on what you say, I’ll need to write it down.”

Twilight glared daggers at the unicorn. Was there some way she could overpower him? He was too close. The moment she tried, he’d scribble all over the pages. All over those beautiful pages!

“It seems you don’t remember,” said Scrubber. “Interesting. Let me make note of that.” He touched the pen to paper and heard a thump.

From behind him there was muffled cries. He was rather glad he’d gagged them. None of them was Rarity, to be fair, but he still didn’t want to take the chance.

“It appears as if the Princess is taking a nap,” said Scrubber. He turned to the blond Pegasus pony. “Curl, be a sport and fetch us some water, won’t you? Her Highness will need a refreshing… cold… shower.”

Curl nodded silently before leaving the library. He wasn’t sure where he’d get cold water, though. If he couldn’t find the kitchen, he supposed he could bring in some snow from outside. Yeah, that’d do the trick. He wouldn’t even have to melt it. Snow baths were a thing, weren’t they?

Whump!

Snow dripped off his face onto the cold crystalline floor. Slowly, Curl turned his head, eyes wide in disbelief. A gold-coated earth filly with a red mane stood there, a bow in her mane and red Hearth’s Warming ribbon around her. His eyes narrowed as she smiled sheepishly at him.

Wasn’t that the same filly the other two ponies had chased after? How had she gotten away from them? Well, there was no time for that. If you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself.

Curl put on his best smile. “Hello there, little filly,” he said and instantly regretted his choice of words.

Apple Bloom turned tail and ran as fast as her little legs could carry her. She knew these ponies were bad guys but what a creep! Her ears flicked back as she heard the Pegasus pony shout. No, she would not go back. Stranger danger and all that.

Around a corner, her hooves skidded on the polished floor. Twilight’s castle was not meant for running in. She scrambled to get herself upright and did her best to continue running. Behind, she heard a whump as the Pegasus pony presumably skidded into a wall. Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy, thought Apple Bloom.

Suddenly, she realised how close she was. Only a bit more! She didn’t have much farther to go now.

“Now!” cried Apple Bloom as she rushed past her friends.

Curl couldn’t stop in time. He caught himself on the tinsel that suddenly pulled taut in front of him and his momentum made him somersault over it to land on a scooter. Both Pegasus pony and foal’s toy careened across the floor, up onto a wooden ramp, loop-the-loop and vaulted off a raised ramp into the air.

“I’m so going on that after him,” said Scootaloo as she watched wide-eyed as the Pegasus pony crashed into Pinkie’s party cannon.

“You little brats!” shouted Curl angrily as he struggled to pry his lower half out of the cannon. “Wait ’til I get—!”

An explosion drowned him out as Pinkie triggered the party cannon. The Pegasus pony and confetti flew out the barrel. He crashed into a wall.

“Welcome to Ponyville,” greeted Pinkie as she stood over the barely conscious Pegasus pony. “Rule number one of Ponyville: Never. Crash. My. Parties. Ever.”

* * *

The party in the Great Entrance Hall was, as could be expected, not going smoothly at all. Doctor Time Turner’s figgy pudding was still steaming gently under its dish-cover but pretty much most of the food and drink had been consumed.

Rainbow Dash was tied up with an apple in her mouth and turning on a spit. Not over a fire mind you; this isn’t that kind of story. Which probably means we will never find out whether she tastes like beef or poultry.

Not this year, anyway.

Maybe another time.

Anyway, I’m digressing.

Scootaloo couldn’t believe these ponies had waylaid her hero. They couldn’t have played fair. No way would the Speedy, Heroic Rainbow Dash have fallen to these bozos. Maybe they’d slipped something into the punch? She could have easily believed that.

“There’s so many of them,” exclaimed Sweetie Belle wide-eyed. “How’re we going to take care of this?”

Pinkie had gone in search of Twilight, leaving the three of them to deal with the pony terrorists. They weren’t quite sure how they were supposed to pull that off, but Pinkie had confidence in them.

“Everything’ll be peachy keen,” she had told them. “Just remember the Santa Goats.”

“What in tarnation do you think Pinkie Pie meant?” whispered Apple Bloom as she looked around the Great Hall. “How’re all those straw dolls going to help us?”

Scootaloo gasped in realisation. “Rainbow Dash’s goat,” she exclaimed quietly as she gestured in the direction of the cloud. “Do you think she’s hiding something inside it?”

Now that Sweetie Belle thought about it, it was unusual that Rainbow Dash had been so insistent on making her Santa Goat with a cloud. None of the ponies had done that. Only Rainbow Dash had and she’d claimed it would be awesome. Quite frankly, it looked more like a cat with horns.

“I wouldn’t put it past her,” said Apple Bloom. “Rainbow sure likes her pranks.”

So how were they going to get there and how would they find out the cloud goat’s secret?

“Hey, you guys’d never guess what I found up—!” shouted a pony from behind them.

The three fillies turned to look at the pony. He stared back at them.

“Run!” shouted Sweetie Belle.

“Hey, get back here!”

The Cutie Mark Crusaders ran as one, when they should have scattered. Strength in numbers wasn’t going to help them there, not when some of the Pegasus ponies from Scrubber’s gang flew up to the balcony and blocked their way.

Scootaloo whirled round and leapt over the edge. “Wings don’t fail me now!” she yelled.

They failed her but Rainbow Dash’s cloudy Santa Goat cushioned her fall. It was like landing in a pile of snow but much softer. Not that that helped her. Her legs tingled slightly as if she’d landed on them funny.

Also, Scootaloo was surrounded. Scrubber’s henchponies stared her down with looks of… fear? She frowned. Why did they look so scared? She was just a little filly. Sure, she often claimed otherwise, but when faced with a bunch of adults with the ability to hurt, maim and kill, a kid’s sense of reality often kicked in. So why was it that they looked so afraid? She looked behind her and around but saw nothing.

“Shock ’em!” shouted a pony.

“Shock…?” murmured Scootaloo before she looked down.

The cloud she was sitting on was no longer white. It was black as night. She was sitting on a thundercloud. That explained the tingling in her legs. She smiled. “Right on,” she said. “You stay back now,” she warned the ponies. “And let my friends go or I’m going to shock the lot of you.”

One of the Pegasus ponies pushed to the front. “What are you idiots waiting for?” he shouted at the others. “She’s just a filly; she don’t know how to fire a lightning bolt.”

“Sure I do!” shouted Scootaloo. “Just watch this!” She stomped her hoof on the cloud.

“Holey crab, the Santa Goats are on fire!”

Then all Tartarus broke loose.

* * *

“Ah, it would seem Your Highness is awake,” said Scrubber with a satisfied grin. “Thank you for joining us this fine Hearth’s Warming Eve.” He gestured behind him to Thrill, who had one more book in his hooves. “We were just about to count in the new day.”

Twilight blinked her eyes blearily. Who was this weird pony? He looked so familiar but she couldn’t quite— Of course, she remembered now! That was A— a pony by the name of Horn Scrubber. He was holding her friends hostage—something that would have never happened if only she’d received some guards—all because he wanted access to a vault she didn’t have.

“Wait, what’s he doing?” protested Twilight in horror as she watched Thrill stand over a book with a slack jaw expression, a nasty slimy sliver of drool dribbling down from his mouth. “No, don’t do that!”

“Where is your vault?” asked Scrubber for the umpteenth time that night.

Whump!

“What was that?” cried Scrubber as he whirled round.

Someone had floored Thrill with fruit cake, which is surprising, because Pinkie’s cakes normally couldn’t hospitalise ponies. She knew better than to bake what was essentially a candied brick.

Pinkie had to admit that it saddened her slightly to have to resort to fruit cake. Hers was usually much moister. She guessed it was best to push that thought behind her as she sucked chocolate milk loudly through her straw.

“Ah, the Element of Laughter!” exclaimed Scrubber. “Glad you could join us.”

“You’ve been a big meanie,” said Pinkie accusingly. “But I’m here now, to drink chocolate milk and whoop some meanie butt.” She sucked loudly on the straw. “And I’m all out of chocolate milk.”

Now you may be wondering, what exactly could Pinkie do? She’s just an earth pony armed with—admittedly dangerous—fruit cake and bottles of carbonated drinks. From the way Pinkie moved, the carbonated drinks would probably explode in a geyser of sticky, fizzy fluids. Neither were going to save Twilight’s extensive book collection.

Scrubber fired first. Try saying that ten times fast. Pinkie couldn’t. His telekinetic bolt of magic flung her through the air.

“My books!” shrieked Twilight in horror at the sight of a Pinkie-shaped hole in her bookshelf.

Bottles flew out of the hole like missiles, streaming carbonated fluids as exhaust. Obviously, Pinkie knew about the reaction between cola and a certain brand of mints. Twilight had to admit, she was rather impressed that the earth pony had managed to get so much lifting power. Then she realised sugary liquid was flying everywhere! “Pinkie, take this outside!” she screamed. “You’re going to get all the pages sticky!”

“Okie-dokie-lokie!” responded Pinkie Pie, after which she bucked Horn Scrubber through a wall.

There was a muffled cry. Oh yes, how could she forget? Twilight quickly rushed over to her tied up friends, dodging flying bottles, fruit cake and snowballs.

“’Bout time y’freed us!” exclaimed Applejack. “We’ve got to help the others.”

“I don’t think Pinkie needs our help.”

“I meant everypony else! This Scrubber pony’s got everypony held hostage in the Main Hall.”

“I don’t mean to be a worrywart, but Scrubber’s friends didn’t look too friendly,” ventured Fluttershy.

“Well, we’re going to have to do something about that, then,” said Twilight. “It’s time to befriend the ever-loving stuffing out of these ponies, whether they like it or not.”

* * *

The Main Hall was on fire. There was pandemonium everywhere. Discord was nowhere to be seen, but he was certainly recording everything for posterity.

The hostages no longer seemed to care about the Scrubber Gang. They darted around like headless chickens. In the stampede, a few of the henchponies were trampled under hoof. One Pegasus henchpony attempted to divebomb the fleeing ponies but got a face full of Big Mac’s rear hooves.

He crashed into the table of food and sent figgy pudding and hot wassail curving into the air. It landed on one of the Santa Goats and promptly caught fire. Now figgy pudding is supposed to be flamed before serving, but this was taking it to a whole new level.

“My mane!”

Oh yeah, and the cloudberry and whipped cream landed in Rarity’s mane. Not that that was important. It’s only Rarity’s mane we’re talking about.

“Oh, it’s on!” cried Rarity before she took the goat horns off Doctor Turner’s head.

Wielding the dual horns like swords, Rarity spun into action. One henchpony was felled by a blow to the head. Another went down with a sickening crunch. A blow to the barrel knocked the wind out of another and possibly broke a few ribs. Rarity became a spinning tornado of bruise genesis.

Suddenly, she stopped. The Cutie Mark Crusaders were cornered. Surrounded on every side by henchponies, they had nowhere to escape. Rarity knew that Scootaloo couldn’t very well fly over them, her wings still weren’t developed enough.

Rarity flung one horn back and struck a henchpony in the face. “Rainbow Dash!” she called out before hooking a nearby burning debris with one of her fake goat horns and tossing the flaming item.

The Pegasus pony nodded. She whirled and bucked the figgy pudding down into the villains.

“Muffin fudging Celestia; get it off me!” screamed one of the henchponies as he tried to shake the burning pudding from his face. “Get the flaming thing off me!”

“Heh, looks like somepony got his… just desserts,” exclaimed Rainbow Dash.

“Aw, yeah!”

But even with the flaming pudding, there were more. Too many.

That was when Applejack landed in front of them and with a quick flex of ‘Bucky McGillycuddy’ and ‘Kicks McGee’, managed to kick a few more henchponies into next Thursday. “You stay back, now, y’hear?” she threatened. “If’n y’know what’s good for ya, you’ll back off now.”

“You were just lucky, cowpony,” retorted one of the henchponies. “Do you really think you can beat all of us?”

“Yippee-ki-yay, muffle bucker,” replied Applejack before she charged.

“Yeah, you get ’em sis!” shouted Apple Bloom.

“You!”

The three Cutie Mark Crusaders turned as one. There, at the top of the stairs leading down was Curl, the blond Pegasus pony from earlier. He glared down with an expression of pure rage that would have been on fire if he had been Twilight Sparkle.

Before he could say another word, he coughed up confetti sparklingly. “You little monstrous brats!” he roared before he flew down the stairs.

At that precise moment, Pinkie and Horn Scrubber burst up from underneath the stairs. There was a squeak as Scrubber’s horn connected with Curl’s unmentionables, then all three rolled down each step.

In the action films that Rainbow Dash liked to watch, the hero and villain would have been locked together with grim expressions on their faces and a sense of grim determination. This was Pinkie Pie, though, and she laughed all the way down. If there hadn’t been so much confused shouting and the smash of glass against crystal, one might have heard her shouting, “Whee!”

“It’s over Horn Scrubber!” called out Twilight as she flew over the carnage the trio had left on her staircase. She wondered whether the magic of the castle would repair all the damage. “I suggest you give up.”

The villain had managed to disentangle himself from Pinkie and stood glaring as Rarity, Rainbow Dash, Applejack and Twilight advanced on him. “Ah, but Your Highness, I do believe you’re mistaken there,” he replied as calmly as a bleeding, bruised stallion could. He looked around him and smiled. “I left a little present for you under the Hearth’s Warming Tree.” He pulled out a small remote from his jacket. “Fail to do what I say and you’ll be spending your Hearth’s Warming Eve here, in Ponyville and anywhere else your body parts happen to fall.”

Twilight sighed irritably. “Look, I’m telling you, there’s no vault!” she protested with a stomp of her right hoof. “If you wanted something valuable, you should have just taken the presents.”

“Hah, what kind of pony do you think I am?” he protested. “Where’s your regalia; your crown and jewellery? Bring it to me and nopony gets hurt.”

“Don’t do it, Twilight, I can take him,” said Rainbow Dash.

“Wait, where’s Fluttershy?”

A baleful meow suddenly rent the air. All the ponies looked around them, their ears pricked up and swivelling like radar dishes. The ground underneath them shuddered.

With a terrifying crash, a gigantic white cat burst through the door. If Rarity hadn’t known any better, she could have sworn it was Opalescence and was that… Fluttershy?

“The Hearth’s Warming Cat is real?” spluttered Sweetie Belle in disbelief.

The Pegasus pony rode the hairy white cat straight towards Scrubber. She had a serious expression on her face, less a Fluttershy expression and more the kind Rainbow Dash would have expected on an action hero. Give her a pith helmet and she would have looked like Daring Do.

“Somepony’s been a very naughty colt,” said Fluttershy.

Scrubber quickly grabbed the nearest object he could get hold of with his magic. He threw the burning straw goat doll straight at the Hearth’s Warming Cat before making a run for it.

The cat batted it away as if it had been nothing more than a catnip toy. Then it bent down and with one gulp swallowed the stallion whole.

“Are the rest of you going to behave?” snapped Fluttershy sternly.

Those of Scrubber’s gang that could respond, nodded slowly. A few stood in puddles that were suspiciously not your typical Hearth’s Warming drinks.

“Well, I think that sorts that out,” said Fluttershy as she dusted her hooves off. “Oh and Happy Hearth’s Warming Day everypony!”

* * *

It was Hearth’s Warming Day and whether Spike could have cleaned the entire castle himself was debatable; Twilight’s castle was very large and he was its only cleaner. Twilight had no other servants and definitely no guards, the latter a huge oversight that may have resulted in the destruction of Equestria several times over and the insane mess he had to clean up.

Perhaps that was why Spike was so glad that most of Ponyville had stayed the night. A cynic might have called it slave labour, but none of the ponies seemed to mind helping Spike clean Twilight’s castle. It was, after all, what friends do.

As Spike scraped melted chocolate off the floor, his stomach began to grumble. That was strange. He’d been eating whatever he could salvage so he shouldn’t have been hungry at all.

Suddenly, he burped and a plume of flames and smoke materialised a scroll.

“Twilight!” he called out suddenly as he snatched the letter out of the air. “The Princess has replied!”

“Spike, that’s fantastic!” exclaimed Twilight as she rushed over to the dragon, followed by the rest of her friends. “Would you mind reading it for us?”

“Oh, okay,” replied the dragon as he unfurled the scroll. He cleared his throat before he began:

“Dear Twilight,

“Nice Try. Curl was clearly being played by Zephyr Breeze and I don’t know how you managed to get Alan Rickmane to play Horn Scrubber, but fair play to you. You’ll be glad to know he’s recovering nicely, however, I must warn you he might ask you for medical compensation.

“As for the question of some guards, I’m afraid the Treasury insists that the costs aren’t worth it. You are, after all, one of the most powerful ponies in all of Equestria. Perhaps, and your mother agrees with me on this matter, I’d be able to get you some guards when you give your parents some grandfoals. I hear Prince Blueblood is still available.

“Merry Hearth’s Warming Greetings,

“Celestia.

“P.S. You’re all wrong. The best Hearth’s Warming story is clearly the one where three children enter a fantastical land through a wardrobe.”

Twilight’s eye twitched. “Oh horseapples!”

Author's Note

Rarity's song is based on that Icelandic favourite, Jólakötturinn. Yes, there's a version sung by Björk, but I listened to the one sung by Icelandic Elsa: