Santa Chrys and the villain in denial.
Only villains write stories like this
“But Santa Chrys,” wailed the small blue alicorn from her perch on the rock orbiting the galaxy’s only known habitable planet, “Why aren’t I getting any presents?”
“First of all,” said the changeling matriarch as she struggled to readjust the poofy cotton mesh that approximated a semi-jolly beard, “You know I’m only dressed up like this to trick idiot foals into giving me a holiday all-you-can-eat buffet, right?”
“But…” The tiny cornflower menace whined, eyes brimming with tears. “But…presents!”
“Second, I have no idea how you’re broadcasting your appearance to me. Is this alicorn magic, or…?”
“I’m buoyed on by dreams and good wishes!” Smol McAlicornTyrant pronked across the surface of the moon as if trying to get closer to the very-terrestrially-bound changeling queen, but no matter how far she hopped the distance remained the same. “Sort of! It’s the power of…the Elements of Harmony, or something!”
“Disregarding that I have no idea what you’re talking about…” Santa Chrys, the insectile imposter, took a deep breath as she sat in the bog in a ludicrous and fluffy red-and-white suit. “Look, kiddo, I can tell when someone’s about to go full evil. Call it villain’s intuition. And you,” she emphasized to the terrible toddler titan, “are absolutely going to be evil. Full stop.”
Princess Luna - the kind caught in the lighter-coated flavour that was quite popular among the lonely single stallions of Equestria - blinked. Abruptly, her body flickered as if on a bad broadcast connection, and for a couple of moments the princess bore a spitting likeness of a tall, ebony-coated, sharp-fanged sin against all that is kind, magical and whatever the other four elements are.
“Nuh-uh,” Princess Luna replied. “I’m totally good.”
Santa Chrys looked around, desperate to find some kind of snack-looking child to distract her. Sadly, her clever strategy of setting up shop in the middle of a swamp (to avoid the cops, natch) was somehow failing to yield the dividends that should have awaited her. Thus, she either played reluctant conversation partner to a menace-in-denial or die from boredom.
“Yuh-huh,” Santa Chrys replied.
“Nuh-uh.”
“Yuh-huh.”
“Nuh-uh.”
“This is stupid,” Santa Chrys snapped. “Did you not feel yourself shapeshifting just then?”
Wee Babby Luna flickered again. “Nooooooo.”
“You did it again.”
“Nuh-uhhhhhhhhh.”
Chrysalis sighed and buried her face in a hoof. “Hokay, kiddo, look. Do you feel like you’ve been wronged by others?”
“All the nasty ponies who didn’t appreciate me for all that I did for them because they were too busy loving my sister!” chirped the alicorn.
“And do you want to get revenge?”
“I’ll lock up the sun forever and make it eternal night!” Princess Luna cackled, flickering evil for a full three seconds. “Let’s see how they like the stupid sun then!”
“See,” Santa Chrys said as she readjusted her floppy red hat, “only villains do that.”
“Fight for justice?”
“Make ponies sad on a global scale. Trust me, I know the feeling. I feel like in a few years I’m gonna find an urge coming on to overthrow a monarchy and install my own dictatorship, and that’s gonna be great. But you gotta embrace being evil, kiddo.”
“Noooooooo. It’s righteous indignation!” Princess Luna hopped up and down in what was supposed to be tumultuous ire, but given the (literally) low gravity of her situation it came across more as funny than imposing. “I’m being righteously indignant right now!”
“You’re throwing a temper tantrum.”
“It’s a righteous tantrum!”
“Where are the thrice-accursed kids?” Santa Chrys cursed as she peered at a particularly noxious patch of bog. “And you don’t count. I’m trying to run a racket here, and explaining why you’re bad isn’t doing me any good.”
“I’m over a thousand years old! I’m not a kid!” Princess Luna bawled.
“Could have fooled me.”
“I’m all growed up!” snarled the villain-to-be, whose flickering form finally fixated on a full-fledged formidable figure. “I’m biiiiiig! And big fillies deserve presents!”
“Why, do you think that being big makes you inherently good?” Santa Chrys snarked.
“Well, yeah! There’s me, and you, and… not my sister, I guess, but…”
Chrysalis’s cheeks flushed a pale green. Good? Good? She’d never been so offended in her entire life, and struggled to keep the bile out of her voice. “Regardless. How’d you get stuck on the moon, anyway?”
“Banished.”
“Can’t find your way back?”
“No.”
“How’d you get banished?”
“Sister.”
“Why?”
“Tried to overthrow the sun and throw the world into eternal night,” the charcoal-beast-masquerading-as-a-blue-babby-hoers replied, looking more like the former than the latter at the moment.
“See, only villains do that.”
“Nuh. Uh.” whined the defiant deity.
“Seriously, kiddo, why are you still here? You know we’re not gonna agree, and…again, how are you even manifesting here in front of me?” Santa Chrys huffed. “Is this some kind of teleportation spell or…?”
“Nope!” Princess Luna chirped. “You’re just asleep!”
“Oh, is that - wait, what?”
“Yeah! I guess it was because you were so bored of waiting for fillies and colts who were as good as me to show up and ask for presents-”
“Sweet. Time to leave this nightmare.” Santa Chrys raised her hoof, prepared to slap the sleep out of her. “Ciao, filly. I’d say it was nice knowing you, but it wasn’t.”
“Wait!” Princess Luna pleaded. “What are you-”
Santa Chrys slapped herself and immediately disappeared from the dreamscape.
Once again, Princess Luna was stuck on the moon all by herself, just like she’d been for the past nine hundred and ninety-seven years or so, give or take a couple. Not that the bog surrounding Santa Chrys had been a particularly pleasant sight, but at least it was different.
Princess Totally-not-Nightmare-Moon-just-yet was so angry she could kick a moon rock, so she did. And then she did it again, just because.
“What the uncle funcle did I ever do to make Santa Chrys hate me?” Princess Basically-Nightmare-Moon-at-this-point whined. It was so unfair. Sure, she had been mad and attempted regicide at one point, but that was no reason to get banished.
She’d show them. She’d show them all. If Santa Chrys put her on the naughty list, she’d put Santa Chrys on the naughty list right back. And by “putting on the naughty list,” she meant “banish her green bug butt to the moon, see how she likes that.”
Because turnabout is fair play. Only heroes do that.
