A young Twilight Sparkle sat before the Hearthswarming tree, gawking at the mountain of gifts that lay under it, giggling as the bright lights wrapped tightly round the tree danced in her perfectly purple eyes. The gifts had been wrapped in shimmering golden paper, and the bows holding each box together were a ruby red, as was tradition every year. It was enticing to look at, no doubt. Drool escaped from the corner of Twilight’s mouth, but it never had the chance to go very far, as she briskly wiped it away with a hoof. Oh, to open them. She would never do it before it was time, but she had never so wished that those bows would loosen, and that that spectacular paper would tear away.
It was just before midnight for the young filly on Hearthswarming Eve this year, and she had been up at this hour for every Eve before this as well.
A mighty sigh escaped through her quivering lips. Her anxiety had taken a firm hoofhold over her mind, and when this happened, sleep was impossible. Instead, daydreams were frequent.
What were in those golden boxes this year? What had her parents gotten her? Was it that magic set she had wanted so much? Or perhaps it was that beautiful scarf that she had asked for? Time. Time was the enemy now. Her brother and her parents could wake up and make life much easier for her. It was almost Hearthswarming Day anyway. Did they need to wait until the morning? Twilight thought that a silly rule.
She turned away. She couldn’t let herself be swept away or be tantalized by the gifts that lingered in her eyes. She instead filled her vision with the delectable cookies that sat, uneaten, on the coffee table. Mom had let her lick the spoon, and so she knew first hoof how delicious they were. Twilight licked her lips. Those cookies had been set for Santa, and so she could not eat any. Again, she turned.
She rotated 180 degrees, and her eyes were now swimming with vibrant, everlasting colors, as the decorative wreaths and lights festooned to the far walls overwhelmed the small townhouse family room. She smiled. The room was filled with a waning glow, like the light from a candle. Shadows receded into the hallways. They had no place in here. The silence to the room was broken only by her steady breathing. Twilight, scrambling to all fours, decided to sprawl out on the couch.
There, she flopped down in a fashion that was less than graceful. She giggled softly. The couch cushions supporting her tiny frame were velvety smooth, and she ran all four hooves across them, so that it appeared as if she were making a snow angel there. Twilight’s smile was persistent. It was brighter than the lights in the room, the lights across the street, and the lights down the block. Her exuberance at this hour was incomparable. She closed her eyes.
With a smile still plastered to her features, she daydreamed.
Santa was coming. She knew it. She had sat upon his lap this year for the first year ever. She recalled that memory. His beard smelled distinctly of gingerbread, and his eyes were jolly. He was rather portly, yet somehow, he seemed fit. She remembered wanting to wear the hat that rested a bit lopsided atop his head. She remembered asking to do so. And she remembered him giving her a hearty chuckle, lifting the hat from his head, then courteously adorning it atop hers.
The young filly’s eyes were filled with pure, unadulterated joy at that moment. And only in that fleeting moment could you see the spark that shone in her eyes before it fled not a moment later. She wore the cap proudly, though it was a smidge too large for her head. It hung over her eyes, so much so that about the only thing you could see behind the veil was a warm smile.
A cheery Santa then asked what she wanted for Hearthswarming Day.
Twilight remembered what she had asked for. They were books. Various books. She adored them. Any kind of book, she remembered asking for. It didn’t have to be anything specific. She simply wanted them. She loved them all. She loved knowledge. It was something that she could keep for a lifetime, rather than something that would be tossed aside after a few years.
She remembered Santa saying that he would grant her that wish. She remembered him, still smiling amiably, lifting her from his knee and setting her back on the ground. He then gave her a single candy cane, and told her to have a Merry Hearthswarming Day.
Twilight remembered walking around that day, furiously licking at that candy cane, letting the sweet flavor tickle her tongue.
She had kept the Santa hat. It was a simple reminder of the best day ever.
Hoofsteps.
Twilight’s thoughts were interrupted by hoofsteps tapping against the floor in the hall. She blinked twice. There was no time to react. In mere moments, a half-shadowed figure made its presence known by appearing in the doorway to the family room. The figure wiped at its eyes groggily.
“Twilight,” the figure whispered into the light, “is that you?
Twilight half-frowned. Mom had come to tell her to go to bed. This happened every year since Twilight had been able to waddle. There was no immediate response. Twilight fidgeted there on the couch.
“Mom!” Twilight said in a tone of complaint. “I don’t wanna go to bed. Please! I need to stay up. I need to be here!”
Mom half-smiled as she became half-awake. Twilight righted herself on the couch. She crossed her hooves over her chest. Her eyes flickered in the lights. Mom entered the room, and was immediately consumed by the impressive light.
“Those presents aren’t going anywhere, Twilight Sparkle,” Mom said. “And if you don’t go to bed, Santa won’t come. You know that.”
Twilight sighed. “That’s what you say every year.”
“That’s because it’s true every year,” Mom replied.
Twilight flopped back down onto the couch, this time louder, and with purpose, for she meant it. She threw her forehooves out dramatically. Now she faced the ceiling. Mom only smirked wryly at her restless young one.
“I can’t sleep. I just can’t! How can I?” Twilight cried in exasperation. “And you can’t make me.”
Mom had silently crept over to the couch as Twilight complained so whole-heartedly to her. She approached her filly with soft hoofsteps. Twilight failed to let her eyes flee the ceiling.
Mom loomed over Twilight, and the shocked filly only then noticed her. Twilight squirmed, but it was too late.
“I beg to differ!” Mom said. She picked Twilight up and cradled her in her hooves. Then, she began to blow into Twilight’s belly, the result of which made a loud noise, like that of an elephant.
The room was then filled with elephant noises and Twilight’s laughter.
After a short while of this, Mom set Twilight back down on the velvety cushions of the couch. Twilight had a case of the giggles. Her smile was planted onto the face of Mom’s, and so Mom wore it as well.
“Honey,” Mom said to her filly, her tone a soft whisper, “Hearthswarming Day will come just like any other day. You shouldn’t stay up for it. You need some sleep. Little fillies like you need their sleep.” She placed a kiss on Twilight’s head.
“I know, Mom,” Twilight said. “But how can you sleep knowing what tomorrow is?”
“Very carefully,” Mom replied sarcastically.
“Mom!” Twilight cried fretfully.
Mom chortled. She surrounded her filly in a motherly hug, a warm one, a comfortable one. Twilight’s mane was pressed up into Mom’s chin. Twi smothered herself in Mom’s embrace. The two shared a long moment like this. Then, Mom cooed into Twilight’s ear.
“I know you can’t sleep dear. I know. When I was your age, I couldn’t do it either.” Mom ran her hoof down the length of Twilight’s back. “So, let’s break the rules. Just this once. Just this one time. Tonight, I’ll let you open one gift. But on two conditions. You have to go to bed afterwards, and I get to choose the gift.”
Twilight liked the sound of that. She broke free from Mom’s embrace. “Really? You mean it? Can I?”
“Yes,” Mom said. “Stay here.”
Mom got up from the couch and walked a short way over to the tree. There was some digging, some tossing aside of various gifts, and the sound of crinkling paper. Twilight had been eyeing the big box under the tree, but Mom let it sit. Instead, she watched as Mom twirled back round, holding a much smaller box. Twilight wondered what it could be.
Mom plopped back down on the couch. An antsy Twilight Sparkle scooted closer to her and stared at the box. It was wrapped in shimmering golden paper, and a ruby red bow had been fancifully tied there, just like the rest. She smiled.
“Twilight,” Mom said. “This gift is for you, from Mom.” She paused a moment before adding, “Merry Hearthswarming Day, Twilight.”
Mom hoofed Twilight the box. In that moment, a spark shone in the filly’s eyes. She set a hoof down on the glossy wrapping paper. Then, excitedly, she tore away at it.
The wrapping fell to the floor. The bow landed next to it. In the coming seconds, an empty box fell to the floor as well. Nothing more came after that. Silence. The gift had been revealed to Twilight Sparkle.
Twilight held it in her hooves. Her mouth hung open. Her eyes went wide. She loved it. Whatever it was, she loved it. It was not a book, or a magic set, nor a scarf. This... this was something unexpected.
“Her name,” Mom said as she caressed the delighted filly, “is Smarty Pants. She was mine when I was little, and she was my best friend. Now, she is yours.”
Twilight didn’t know what to say. The stuffed toy that she held in her hooves so delicately was a simple rag doll with stubby little limbs and buttons for eyes.
Twilight Sparkle loved it.
“Thank you, Mom!” Twilight said, enamored by the gift.
“You are very welcome,” Mom said. “Now. It’s late. We have to give time for Santa to drop by. Do you remember our little agreement?”
Twilight nodded her head.
“Good.” Mom again kissed her little filly on the head. “It’s time for bed. Take Smarty Pants with you. I love you, Twilight Sparkle.”
“I love you, Mom.”
The two shared a long hug. This was a moment that Twilight Sparkle would never forget. This was the best day ever, and it had only just begun.
Twilight Sparkle slept in her bed that night. Her hoof was keeping a tight hold onto Smarty Pants, her new best friend. She rested peacefully. It was the first Hearthswarming Eve she had slept through. Twilight Sparkle, the restless filly, looked permanently happy.
o----o
An older Twilight Sparkle sat before the Hearthswarming tree. She did not gawk at the mountain of gifts that lay before her. This year, she had wrapped them.
She smiled. A restless young filly, hers by birth, sat anxiously beside her. The filly could not sleep. She never could before Hearthswarming Day. Twilight had a foreleg draped across the backside of the filly. It was almost midnight. The two were talking before the tree. It was a soft conversation.
“I couldn’t sleep when I was your age either,” Twilight said to her filly, recalling just what her mother had said to her when she was little. “But Santa won’t come if you don’t sleep. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes, Mom,” the filly replied somberly. She put her head down.
Twilight Sparkle began to rub the backside of her young filly. This was the fun part.
“Tell you what,” Twilight said, her tone a soft whisper. “I’ll let you open one of them on two conditions. One, you go to bed after you open it. And two, I get to pick out the present. Does that sound fair to you?”
The filly picked her head up instantaneously. “Yes, Mom!” she cried. She was positively teeming with excitement.
“Okay. Here goes.”
Twilight, smiling, reached into the base of the tree. There was some digging, some tossing aside of various presents, some crinkling of paper. After a short while, she pulled out a small box with shimmering gold wrapping paper and a neat, ruby red bow.
Some things never change.
“Here you go,” Twilight said, hoofing her filly the box. “Happy Hearthswarming, dear.”
Her filly’s eyes lit up. Wasting no time, she tore into the box. The gold paper fell to the floor beside her. The bow, too, fell there. In the coming seconds, a box joined the discarded wrappings. The filly was now holding her gift.
Twilight Sparkle could see the look in her young one’s eyes. It was remarkably similar to how she had reacted on her most fondest of days.
“Her name is Smarty Pants,” Twilight said. “She was my best friend when I was little, and now she is yours.”
There were no words. Not until Twilight engulfed her filly in a great hug.
“Thank you so much, Mom!” the filly cried, simultaneously hugging the gift and her mother.
“Of course, dear,” Twilight said.
Twilight Sparkle tucked her filly in that night. She even watched her fall asleep. The young filly kept a hoof held onto Smarty Pants the entire time, held it close.
Twilight shed a tear. She smiled.
“I love you,” she said softly, and parted by blowing a kiss.
Twilight’s smile was reminiscent of old times. Her eyes were watery. She cried tears of joy that night, no regrets, and held nothing back.
And deep inside, Twilight Sparkle knew, that sometimes, the smallest of moments are what you love the most.
Author's Note
This story is my Christmas present to a few of my very good friends on the site. Those people are bookplayer, Future and Twifight Sparkill. I wouldn't be the same person without them. Thank you guys, and Merry Christmas!
Hopefully they like this. If not, I'm screwed.
I'd like to wish everyone that reads this a Merry Christmas! This story is for you as well.
