From a cultural and anthropological standpoint, winter is a curious time in the lands of Equestria and its neighbors. Despite some of them having practically no contact with one another, almost all creatures have a seasonal holiday celebrating family and togetherness. The ponies with their Hearth's Warming, the Yaks with their Snilldar Fest, and the Dragons with their Fire Festival, to name a few. Even the usually unsociable Griffons put aside their differences for the celebration of their Blue Moon Festival.
More curious is the fact that all these disparate holidays manage to fall on the very same day. Almost as if there were some creature with the political heft to influence nations, the longevity to influence things slowly, and a dislike of having to attend too many stuffy political balls. But certainly there were no such princesses like that, so it was probably just a lucky coincidence.
But of all the major powers in Equus, there was only one which was not celebrating the holiday season. A singular creature who, for centuries of his lonely existence, had been content just treating it like any other day. But now that he was giving this friendship thing a chance, the draconequus known as Discord found that spending this year's holidays alone in his chaotic dimension felt... different. Lacking.
And so he was sulking.
"Sulking? Why I never! This is refined contemplation.
I'm waxing poetic on this winsome celebration."
He monologued in rhyme, for some unknowable reason—
"Oh, you know why!" he snapped, "It's this whole holiday season!"
He threw himself over a fainting couch and pressed a handkerchief to his brow.
"All those ponies and griffons and dragons and yaks,
with their parties and carols and gift-laden sacks.
And all are invited! Each friend, foe, and neighbor—
To feast and to smash and to toss the old caber.
They dance and they sing and they toast till they burst.
(I party harder, but they're far from the worst.)
Parties riddled with ritual, customs— such bores!
But there’s chaos aplenty when they stampede the stores.
But what of poor Discord, so handsome and gay?
The poor soul that no one invited to play.
Alone—all alone!—on this holiday eve.
Abandoned! Forsaken! And left here to grieve."
He had, in fact, been invited to several parties, but had declined all of them as he was still waiting for one particular invitation from—
"Did I ask your opinion?" he snapped at the air,
"And stop trying to act like I don't know you're there."
Discord received no response as he was, quite obviously, alone. Just like he was every holiday season. Most likely the long years of stone-bound isolation had worn away at what little sanity he’d started with. His eyes narrowed at whatever nothingness he imagined was around him.
“I'd just planned on doing a seasonal rhyme;
To stir up some chaos and kill some free time.
But if you plan to meddle with my entertainment,
Then you’d best get ready for sudden detainment.
And just to be sure you keep out of my lanes,”
he quick-snapped his talons and—
snatched hold of the reins.
An ash plume filled the room—like dynamite sans crater—
When it cleared, it revealed a new rasping narrator.
“Well, now, this is peculiar," said Discord, now see-through.
"I speak not just my words, but all my actions, too!"
“And the trick is so easy!” he started to brag,
“Even Trixie can manage to speak a speech tag.
With the world as my canvas, it's time for a story!
I'll repaint the season in chaotic glory!"
His thoughts raced like falcons (he’s frightfully smart).
"The key to a story is a good gripping start.
Some action, some intrigue, a good proper show
(so they miss that I'm making it up as I go)."
He paused and he floated back down to the floor,
as he noticed a problem he'd not seen before.
"But what's there to narrate when the whole world is sleeping?
Save Luna's dreamwalks or someone’s midnight book-keeping."
“Now, I’ve got it!” he laughed. “I know just what I need!”
A patsy to launch this tale into high speed.
A good holiday tale needs an inciting actor,
and for that, I know just the perfect malefactor.
I'll use a quick spell, just to twist her perceptions,
And send all her schemes in amusing directions."
Discord raced from his cottage, he slammed his door shut,
then he yelled, "Wait a minute. I'll take a shortcut!"
And laying a talon aside of his snout,
he gave it a flick and the world irised out.
Far away in a castle of hole-ridden stone,
sat a hole-ridden queen on a hole-ridden throne.
Away from Equestria where ponies were dreaming,
awake was Queen Chrysalis, mind ripe with scheming.
She stalked through her throne room; left, right, back and forth,
glowering, at times, to the pony lands up north.
"Oh, those weak little ponies, how I loathe them so.
We'd be much better off if they froze in the snow.
They sit in their homes, plump with joy and with cheer,
when they should be bowed down, prostrating in fear."
Unseen and unheard, Discord stilled a guffaw,
a fistful of thoughtcloud gripped tight in his claw.
He thrust it, quite harshly, past her mental defenses.
The Queen blinked a moment, then came to her senses.
"They think one bad wedding could cull my ambitions?
If I can't steal their love, then I'll crush their traditions!
We'll deny them all joy, just as they denied we.
There's no room left to argue, debate, or parley."
She called her retainers and three soon appeared.
Each stood statue-still, for her wrath they all feared.
"My elite infiltrators! Tonight, you're selected,
to carry a plan out which I've just perfected.
For far too long ponies have laughed in our faces,
sequestering love from more deserving races.
They squander it all, but we will not be daunted,
for tonight, we go and we take what we've wanted!"
(She kept on like that for what felt like near ages,
but Discord got bored so he skipped a few pages.)
He tuned right back in once she seemed near cessation.
"...then go steal their whole Hearth's Warming celebration!"
She received no applause, no a standing ovation.
The ‘lings barely moved at their queen's declaration.
They shared a quick side eye as thoughts passed unspoken,
then one took the plunge and the silence was broken.
"My Queen," he said slowly, "We're experts at theft,
but stealing a concept sounds a wee bit far-fetched."
“Not to mention this company is, well, rather small.
Even just one small village, that's an order quite tall!"
"Even then," said another, "At one sack apiece,
We'll soon run out of space. We'll need three sacks, at least."
The Queen's eyes soon narrowed, and the ‘ling had to question,
what madness had prompted such a foolish transgression.
"You question my orders?" she hissed and she spat.
Her mane stood on end like a wild alley cat.
From her horn to her hooves swept a wave of green fire,
(in case any still doubted the depth of her ire).
“You’re allowed one misstep, but the next is your head.
Now listen this time as I repeat what I said.
You steal everything that would dare bring them joy.
Every cake, every wreath, every mewling babe’s toy!
You steal every symbol of holiday spirit,
Any more questions? I'd just love to hear it."
Two shook their heads 'no' and one said, "Crystal clear!"
Survival meant saying what the Queen wants to hear.
"That's better. Now go!" And her horn flared with green,
as she parted the air using magic obscene.
Through the portal they dashed—One, Two, Three—by her will.
With her anger behind them and ahead: Ponyville.
They invaded the town ‘cross the dimensional rift.
"Steal it all!" she reminded, "Every bauble and gift!"
And she laughed and she cackled. She giggled with glee.
With no one to witness, she even let out a ‘squee!’
Discord hmmed to himself, "Well that ought to take care—"
Chryssi’s laughter cut off. "What was that? Who goes there?!"
Discord blinked, and then muttered, "Could have sworn I was muted."
Chryssi screamed, "Guards! Attend me! We're being intruded!"
"How bothersome," he mused, "but at least your part's played.
I'll have to work quick ‘fore this power can fade."
"Stop hiding, you coward!"she whined like a filly.
"No I didn't! Stop lying!" she shrieked, still quite shrilly.
"While your tantrum is fun, I have tasks more engaging."
Then he vanished once more, leaving Chrysalis still raging.
Back in Ponyville, the changelings all glanced to their peers
(with their queen's final order still ringing in their ears).
Though confidence was low at their odds of success,
They knew they'd be reamed if they didn't try their best.
So they set to their task of Hearth's Warming eviction,
with varying levels of morale and conviction.
From one house to the next, over icy veneer,
they started to loot the whole town's festive cheer.
They took all the tinsel and unstrung the lights.
They tucked away food like they were parasprites.
And the gifts—oh, the gifts!—every one in a sack.
They cared not for the nametags, but Discord kept track.
Two tickets from Vinyl for a cruise 'cross the seas.
A book meant for Twilight on summoning bees.
Fake gloves for Lyra, fancy oats for Bon Bon
(who slept through it all, since she had earmuffs on).
From Trixie a grimoire of magic unholy.
From Pinkie a big bowl of hot ravioli.
From Cream Heart, a JoyBoy she meant for her son
(plus a pre-release copy of Pokémare Sun).
Their sacks soon grew heavy, filled up fit to pop,
yet there always seemed room for another loot drop.
Their crimes mounted higher in quiet obscurity,
then changeling One said, "Is that a house or a butchery?"
The second bug grunted, still focused; on task.
"The shell if I know. But why do you ask?"
"Well, it's been a few years since I've had one of these jobs,
but since when do they decorate with pony shish-ka-bobs?"
Two glanced to confirm the pony-skewer strewn walls.
"Pretty gruesome," he agreed, "despite tinsel and balls."
Three cuffed both their heads. "We're still on the clock.
And whatever it is, it's next on the block.
But whoever lives here must be some crazy freak."
And so three naïve changelings entered Carousel Boutique.
"Aw, dead Queens above! This is gonna take all night!"
Two and Three remained silent as they took in their plight.
A forest—a vista—of silver, red, and green.
Holiday gowns and dresses as far as could be seen.
For this was the demesne of the fashionista Rarity,
And her whole winter catalogue was of holiday variety.
"You two start with this room and I'll hit the icebox.
There’s no time to waste, so keep an eye on those clocks.”
They spoke nothing more but went straight to their work,
till Two dropped a bauble and they froze with a jerk.
They'd presumed the house empty of stallions and mares,
But now came the 'clip-clop' of small hooves upstairs.
"Disguises!" Three hissed, and their black bodies smeared
into two skinny reindeer and a fat yak with a beard.
“Remember your lines," Three warned One and Two,
"And if it falls through... you know what to do."
From the top of the stairs where the darkness did dwell,
There came a small pony, her name: Swee— Scootaloo?
"That's not right,” whispered Discord, most non-diegetically.
“Something shattered my rhyme scheme, quite unapologetically."
The filly's eyes widened at the source of the noise:
A fat bearded stranger with a sack full of toys.
"Hello little tot—" he started to speak,
but was swiftly cut off by an ear-piercing shriek.
"Burglars!" she cried, "Horse-wranglers! Thieves!"
Her cries shook the house from the floor to the eaves.
"Sweetie Belle! Apple Bloom!" she hollered in fear,
"Wake up! It's—
the evil holiday monster Kramphengst and his mis-mare-gynestic minions! Here to steal our food and kidnap us back to their evil volcano lair to make toys for other fillies!”
"Wait, what?" said Three.
"We're who?" said Two.
"Huh?" said One.
"That's not the right line at all!" Discord cried out in shock.
In fact, Discord was so surprised that he lost his grip over the narrative authority completely and the natural forces that usually oversaw such things regained control.
The two sides of the unexpected holiday standoff stared each other down with various degrees of apprehension and confusion. Reinforcements for the pony side soon arrived as Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom skidded into place behind their friend.
"Wow, I thought you were just pulling a prank, but it really is the Kramphengst." Sweetie Belle eyed the other two disguised changelings. "And some ugly deer."
"Just like Discord said!" Apple Bloom added. "And we didn't even need to use all the traps we set up."
"What?” the draconequus in question muttered, “I never said anything like that."
He had, in fact, told them a story exactly like that. He'd concocted the story of Kramphengst just over a year prior, told it to a group of foals as a cautionary tale, and then promptly forgot to follow through and actually create a monster to scare them with.
“No one asked you.”
The three fillies hopped into what might charitably be called a defensive formation. Scootaloo pulled out a slingshot, Sweetie Belle lit her horn, and Apple Bloom extracted a shillelagh from an umbrella stand. "Don't think that just ‘cause our sisters all left on some magical emergency that we're just gonna sit here and be kidnapped quietly!"
"Yeah! We're ready to defend ourselves!"
"With mah Kung-fu! Hah!"
"Cutie Mark Crusaders Home Defense League!" they all shouted.
Three bit back a grimace. This was decidedly not going to plan. But, as a dedicated professional, he wasn't prepared to let the whole mission unravel from three loose threads. That's why there were contingency plans.
He belted out a rumbling belly laugh to break the tension, then launched into his rehearsed cover story. "Ho ho ho! My little fillies, I'm afraid there's been a terrible misunderstanding! I'm no monster. I am Sandy Hooves! Magical, gift-giving embodiment of cheer! I'm here to reward you with toys and candies for being such good fillies all year! Certainly no kidnapping, ho ho no!"
An excellent performance. Truly breathtaking, by his own humble appraisal. Soon enough they'd be eating out of his hoof and more than eager to come back to visit his ’workshop.’
And then Half-wit and No-wit had to live up to their reputations in the hive and blunder over all his hard work.
"What do you mean 'no kidnapping'?" One asked. "The Queen said no witnesses."
"Yeah," Two added, "and she's gonna be real cross if you start giving back all the gifts and junk we just finished stealing."
Three growled and smacked both of them. "You complete numbskulls. Can't you read the room? No wonder neither of you passed basic infiltration."
"Pause!" Discord commanded, holding his claw and paw out in a class 'time out' pose. The room seemed to freeze in place and time ground to a stop.
"Now hold up! Time out! I can't let this stand!
I don't recall saying you could retake command.
This here is my story, and I plan to finish!
Even if the fourth wall has to wear a bit thinnish."
His talons went 'snap!' and the world gave a 'crack!'
And once again he took narrative power back.
"But this Grinch plot line's wrecked. It’s completely uprooted.
I need a tale that’s more flexible being rebooted.”
He kicked Rarity's gramophone and a tune began to play.
A peppy old trepak from a Rumpsian ballet.
"Aha! A more chaotic story I doubt I could find.
Now let's try this again. Let’s see here... ah! Rewind!"
Three told a lie, but One sent it south,
Then Two chimed in with his hoof in his mouth.
The room seemed to freeze. Time ground to a halt.
Their stealth options ruined, the bugs turned to assault!
They leapt at the ponies who reversed through the door.
Then Three's hoof met a tripwire, and his face met the floor.
"Score one for Crusaders!" so Applebloom cheered.
Then yelped and ran faster as One and Two neared.
"Scatter!" cried Scoots as she juked to the right.
One followed her off and was soon out of sight.
Two fillies dodged quickly through a house they knew well,
while their chaser spat curses as he stumbled and fell.
"Wait a minute!" said ‘Bloom as she altered their heading,
"There's a trick Ah saw Pinkie Pie pull at the wedding!"
Two rounded the corner, expecting fillies on the run.
"Ho ho ho," AB chuckled, "Now Ah have a Sweetie gun."
Her tail like a crankshaft, her horn like a gatling,
Sweetie fired off magic that sent changelings a'scattering.
"Watch it!" Two yelped, jumping from her fire line.
"You'll put someone's eye out! Quite probably mine!"
Sadly, ‘Bloom had only seen Twilight Sparks do the trick,
and while others could do it, it lacked quite the same kick.
Though she left the walls peppered with star-shaped soot marks,
in less than a minute, Sweetie spat only sparks.
As the mana ran out, so too did their luck,
Which Sweetie expressed with a quiet, "Oh Fu— dge."
She turned to her friend and whispered quite candidly,
"I think he's in position. Send in the cavalry!"
'Bloom yanked on a rope and from the stairs came a rumble,
of a stampede of ponyquins starting to tumble.
Two glanced just in time to witness his fate,
before he was crushed 'neath the avalanche’s weight.
Once the crashing had finished, Sweetie perked up an ear,
and with confidence brimming, she swaggered quite near.
"I guess you're what Rarity calls 'les incompetent'."
She felt very clever, (though she didn't know what it meant).
She knocked limbs aside to see the reindeer within,
only instead her eyes landed on unconscious chitin.
"Oh, it's a changeling!" she gasped as ‘Bloom paled,
"I guess that explains why the garlic traps failed."
Elsewhere in the building, past dresses and pants,
Scootaloo was locked in a most deadly dance.
But she’d had an idea, some hours prior,
when setting the traps and called in a favor.
She’d borrowed some ordnance from town’s party planner,
an investment that paid off in a most violent manner.
Three entered, stage right, still dazed from his fall,
to find One shanghaied into a game of dodgeball.
Plus dodge-dress, dodge-needles, dodge-cutlery-set,
dodge-painting, dodge-novel, dodge-bass-clarinet!
See, the truly great secret of Pinkie's design,
was if it fit down the barrel, then it fired just fine.
Anything not nailed down Scoots swiftly dubbed 'ammo'
and she fired it off with a Boom! Pop! Bang! Whammo!
“This one’s for Grandma! And this one’s for Dash!
And this one’s for all the poor cans of pony hash!”
Meanwhile, to the side, the Victrola played on,
still filling the air with its jubilant song.
“Are you really being hampered by one tiny pony?”
“I’m trying! But if I get close then she screams like a banshee!
Then I cover my ears and she hits me head-on.”
“Yeah, just keep on trying! Plenty more where that came from!”
One groaned and lamented being in charge of dung-for-brains
(and the screeching of violins wasn’t helping his migraines).
“Blast this holiday music, it’s so joyful and triumphant!”
Then the Victrola cold-clocked him and made his issue redundant.
He was knocked through the wall (and a cookie-cutter hole)
and soon lodged in a snowpony, unconscious, but whole.
Sweets and ‘Bloom arrived then, prepared to lend aid,
But found the invader was much more afraid.
"The heck's with these fillies?! Such crazy persistence!
The Royal Guard didn't give us this much resistance!"
"’Cause we’re awesome!" Scoots said as she fired a chair,
“With unlimited ammo, I am Turbomare!
The Hearth's Warming Spirit compels us to win!
I light this fuse with the Friendship Fire within!”
As she found herself lacking in hoof’s-reach apparel,
she stuffed the whole cash register into the barrel.
Then, with a smile more suited for Hannibal,
she smirked, “Keep the change, ya filthy animal!”
Bits became grapeshot and the till a juggernaut,
then the changeling, quite suddenly, advanced to ‘cosmonaut’.
He disappeared o’er the horizon with a 'twinkle' and 'ting'
till he crashed, two days later, near the edge of Neighjing.
Two stumbled in then, haggard and deflated,
saw one changeling gone and the other defenestrated,
and three fillies still standing, still fresh as a daisy.
He may have been slow, but even he could taste crazy.
Something happened, right then, for the first time in years.
Something topped the Queen’s Wrath in a changeling’s tiered fears.
“You know what? Forget it! This ain’t worth the price!
I’ve gone above and beyond, but it just won’t suffice.”
Then he turned right around and walked out the boutique,
grabbed One by the tail, then continued to speak.
“Forget this whole mission! Forget the Hive, too!
They never appreciated the things that I do.
We’ll make our own way. Maybe join with the circus.
The queen can’t get mad if she can’t ever find us!”
They soon disappeared in the dark, snowy night,
Leaving three fillies, victorious, but wired from the fight.
“I guess that’s a win?
“That’s a win.”
“Yeah, we won.”
“That’s three points for us and for the changelings, none!”
Scoots paused. “They were changelings? I thought it was Kramphengst.”
You're saying it was bugs I was fighting against?”
She had a small phobia of things that went buzz,
It derived from a childhood trauma because—
"Now Ah don't wanna sound crazy," Apple Bloom quickly said,
"But does anypony else hear Discord in their head?"
“Oh good, you hear him, too?” Sweetie said and she sighed.
“I was starting to worry I was losing my mind.”
Discord froze. No, for certain he was muted this time.
“Nah,” Scoots said with a shrug, “we’ve all been hearing you rhyme.
I even heard you when I was still playing upstairs.
That’s why their arrival didn’t catch us unawares.”
“So thanks for the help!” Sweetie said, “otherwise,
we might not have won against those evil spies.”
"You should really stop peeking behind the narrative curtain,”
Discord grumbled, but there was still one thing quite certain.
It felt… nice, to be thanked, despite his interference
(and the fact that he’d triggered the changelings’ malfeasance).
Something stirred in his heart, in a space long neglected.
With a warmth from inside he was swiftly affected.
But a D’awwwww from the fillies swiftly reminded,
that his internal thoughts were not currently inside him.
“So what happens now?” he heard Sweetie Belle say.
“We’re too wired to sleep, so we might as well play.”
Something crashed in the house and the wall started to crumble
’round the edge of the holes through which the changelings had tumbled.
“Or maybe get started on some home repairs.
Ah think Rarity might notice the new draft downstairs.”
Sweetie Belle winced at AB’s building assessment.
The changeling-shaped holes were pretty darn apparent.
Not to mention all the dresses turned to ammunition.
Chiffon led to the slaughter for their home-saving mission.
Discord chuckled, “I’m in a good mood, so call this a present.
A bit of small thanks for your brief entertainment.
I’ll fix up the place, and I’ll fix it up well,
so when Rarity returns there’ll be no way to tell.
I’ll even replace all her dresses and food,
though don’t be surprised if some don’t taste like they should.”
“Thank you!” Sweetie said as he plucked loose some hairs
which formed a thousand tiny Discords kitted out for repairs.
They set off to work, some baking, some patching,
while deep in his thoughts, a new plan was hatching.
This story was over, of that he was certain,
but why should that mean it was time for the curtain?
“Crusaders,” he started, “I have a proposition,
and if you have a few moments, I’d ask you to listen.”
He spent a few minutes explaining the way
he'd thought to spend the night 'fore the holiday.
The thrill of the story, the art of the rhyme,
(though he cut out his part in inciting the crime).
He spoke of the fun of the narrator’s spot,
of nudging protagonists into the narrative plot.
And the more that he spoke, the more their eyes gleamed
and the better and better his crazy scheme seemed.
“So here is my offer,” he said quite demurely,
“Since you managed to end my last tale prematurely,
it seems that I now have a few hours free,
so there’s room on the clock for another story.
And I suppose I could use a few junior chaos makers
to help me in executing some holiday capers.
So tell me, Crusaders, with your spirits so bright,
would you care to accompany my chaos tonight?”
The three formed a huddle and had a quick think
A tiny eavesdropping Discord gave the big one a wink.
"Nothing cruel or malicious? And not to our friends?"
"Well, nothing permanent. And I'll ensure happy ends."
The trio agreed, full of ardor and passion.
"We'll celebrate this night in Discordy fashion!"
And inside the Ponyville insurance offices they say,
the Chaos Threat Meter rose three levels that day.
“But what story,” he mused, “what story indeed,
can provide the sort of amusement we need?
Perhaps you know a filly or colt we can visit,
in need of moral guidance from three holiday spirits."
Apple Bloom grinned with impish intention.
"That gives me an idea that Ah think's worth a mention.
Y'know, Diamond Tiara's been gettin' awful haughty
about her exclusive Hearth’s Warming Eve party."
“First you'll need a few buffs,” Discord promptly declared.
And in a centuries-first… the draconequus shared.
"Ooh, I'm see-through!"
"I'm flying!"
"I can walk right through stuff!"
"The word you want is 'immaterial', now let us be off!
Second star to the right, then a left at Town Hall!
The first rule of flying is forgetting to fall!"
Like wisps they flew off in the crisp winter night,
giggling and ready to give their bully a fright.
And with the narrative power now split amongst four,
there was room once again for the originator.
Just in time to make an ending both pithy and astute,
(No doubt Discord would have tried to end with a feghoot).
As they sailed through the night, one still had to wonder.
Was there even a moral or lesson to ponder?
Always use touch-to-speak? Crime never pays?
Jump ship if your boss says to work holidays?
Perhaps the lesson, the moral, need not be so explicit.
What matters is the feeling that stories elicit.
Give thanks, visit friends, eat something non-nutritional.
Does it matter if the story's not strictly traditional?
So whether you like traditions or Lampoon-ish chaos,
Happy Hearth's Warming to all, and a Merry Festivus!
