How The Draconequus Stole Hearth's Warming

by Incandesca

An Act of Charity, or How Discord Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Holidays

Outside the snow fell, flakes covered the ground.
Inside a Shy's cottage, did Discord lounge 'round.

It was not far from Hearth's Warming, he hated to say.
For during such times, the ponies spent away.

Presents and trees, ornaments galore.
'The spirit of Hearth's Warming!' Bah, what a snore.

They spent all their minutes' attention on others.
Be it friends, family, strangers or lovers.

Sickening, gross, disgusting, disgraceful!
Undeserved gifts, he found it distasteful.

The worst of all to his chaotic mind?
The holidays put Fluttershy in quite the tight bind.

A dear pony friend, the bestest, his closest,
Whenever she left, her absence went noticed.

The one who'd taken him down the right path,
Spent too much of her time on others' behalf.

So she left him to wallow, bored and alone.
He twisted, he coiled, with shuddering groans.

Return to his chaos, or wait for her come.
Whichever he chose, he'd be rather glum.

Above the clock screamed its eternal tick tocks.
With nothing to do, he made it a rock.

It fell to the floor, and punched through the wood.
Against the foundation, silent it stood.

That was much better, perhaps now he could sleep,
And wait until Fluttershy came and tea steeped.

Yet just as the pillow smothered his eyes,
Did a hoof on wood knock to his ears rise.

He jumped up in glee, before reality struck him.
This was Fluttershy's cottage. She'd let herself in.

With a grumpy guss glare he opened the door,
Gazing down at the box upon her front porch.

Really? You're rhyming door with porch? You really should have let me write this on my own. You're just using my outline, anyway.

Quiet, you. I can send you back to Hades whenever I want.

Ahem. Apologies for the interruption. As I was saying-

A mailmare stood, with gray feathers, gold hair.
She held out a clipboard, said "You have to sign there."

"But I am not Fluttershy," he said with a sigh,
And watched the confusion cross her wall eyes.

"Oh, that's okay," she then again chirped.
"You can sign for her anyway. Friends' signatures work!"

With a nod he snapped fingers and held a blue pen,
Then did as instructed, returned back to his den.

He waited, and waited, and waited some more.
How long had it been, an era of yore?

At last the knob clicked, could he even believe it?
But yes, there was her, by the white snow backlit!

On each of her wings she carried large sacks,
Bursting at seams with toys and knick knacks.

"I'm so sorry, Discord," she offered apology.
"I have so many things that are keeping me busy."

He told her no worries, that he did understand.
Or perhaps he might have, were he better a man.

He scowled and huffed, gave her the cold shoulder.
He'd make it her problem, his dark gloomy molder.

She outstretched a hoof, and stroked his bat wing.
"If you want," she said, "We can go til evening."

He slumped, and frowned, and admitted defeat.
He couldn't be angry at her more than a heart beat.

"It's fine," he told her, "Don't worry about me."
He'd let bygones be bygones, to enjoy some hot tea.

They laughed and they joked, for hours and hours.
Though it wasn't that really, 'twas happiness' power.

Near late he finished, and set down his cup.
Something had bothered him, he had to speak up.

"What is it with you and Hearth's Warming Eve?"
What drove her to buy, express charity?

She explained in great detail, the goodness of such.
How it made her heart swell, to see smile's touch.

A waste and a bluster, at least to his thoughts.
But he thanked her regardless, he'd think on it lots.

They waved their goodbyes, he left that universe,
To one of his own, a chaos perverse.

Where time mattered not, nor sanity nor space.
The perfect spot to relax, an entropic place.

His living room greeted him, red armchair aloft.
He nestled up in it, oh how it was soft.

But his enigma mind did indeed race,
To the words Shy spoke, and the look on her face.

Charity, where desire to give freely is suddenly spurned,
Without expectation of any return.

Be it bits, a gift, fun or necessity,
The synonym of it is called generosity.

But, his thoughts argued, that wasn't her Element.
Generosity, that unicorn, was for whom it was meant.

Unless it was that, clear under his nose,
That it gave her good feelings, and so it she chose?

His long ancient brain, unthinkable, mystical.
Its gears ground and turned, in moves quite cerebral.

There was only one choice, he decided, to see what she saw.
He'd give a gift of his own, made by claw and paw.

A touch of magic he could afford, a bit here a bit there,
But this would be special, handmade and rare.

It would last through the ages, not dwindle like dust,
As all chaos magic in the normal world must.

From his chair he sprang, right up from malaise,
Setting off to get something for which she could praise.

Equestria he searched, far wide and high low.
He wouldn't return without present in tow.

Yet as he found, time in stores spent,
Lines upon lines, stretching on as they went.

Filled bursting with ponies, bits jingling to spend.
Of his short patience, quick work did they rend.

He just couldn't stand it, not one moment longer.
Manehattan to Filly, Equestria yonder.

It was everywhere, no escape, he nearly regretted.
What would he do now? He nattered and fretted.

And that's when it struck, a bulb glowing brightly.
He'd make a gift of his own, put in his dues rightly.

He toiled and wove, long into the night.
If such thing existed in his realm of fright.

No snaps of his fingers to get the job done.
This was unique, alike to not one.

He practiced and failed, his skills old and rusty.
But for her he forged on, 'til it was done justly.

As the aeons passed by, he found himself giddy.
He couldn't wait for her smile, the sight would be pretty.

At long and at last with a heaving great sigh,
He set his tools down. The finished gift lie.

Uncoupled from time, when next he went through,
Years for him was for them an hour past two.

He waited until their next tea time arrived,
Where he would spring on her his delightful surprise.

He boxed it up properly, bow on its top.
With ribbons to match, that dangled and flopped.

The paper itself, well, perhaps a tad frightening.
Its surface warping and twisted, with gnashed teeth and bright lightning.

But it would serve, and she knew him well,
Enough to not startle at his odd tells.

When he gave it over, she seemed rather shocked.
"Is this for me?" said she, one eyebrow cocked.

He nodded, said, "Yes! I made it myself."
To it which she opened, expecting all else.

A carrot inside, it looked plenty plain.
Her warm smile faltered, confusion in strain.

"Allow me to elaborate," he said plucking it up.
"This is no normal carrot." To Angel he chucked.

The rabbit perked up, curious, unspeaking.
In one quick motion did he begin eating.

One chomp did he take, and no further more.
He stopped then and there, eyes sparkling galore.

He fell back and grinned, and patted his tummy.
Fluttershy said she'd never seen him so chummy.

On the details he explained, in depth and thoroughly,
How the carrot regenerates, a treat of infinity.

"Whenever he's hungry, just toss it right to him."
Right in a pinch, he'd from the plant trim.

Satisfied with one, no further bites needed.
His angry demands now soundly defeated.

She smiled so big, he thought she might cry.
But no, there she did, the rim of her eye.

Without words she leapt, and hugged him so hard,
That he wheezed and worried she'd squeeze out his heart.

"Thank you," she said, two words profound.
The tone carried in them, spoke deafeningly loud.

Right there with that feeling, it clicked in his mind.
The same that she mentioned, from charity kind.

His heart beat strong, grew bigger that day.
He smiled, laughed with her, both sun-shining rays.

When he returned home, a question he wondered.
What better could he do? Could he push this yet onward?

Yes, he could, of course he can!
He was of chaos, his paths multitudes ran!

He searched throughout worlds, those besides his own,
When he stumbled on one, its smart lessons shown.

Here where they walked, on two legs and not four.
They had a tradition, Hearth's Warming to core.

It was called 'Christmas.' How fascinating, and what an odd name.
But in all other ways it was truly the same.

From it he saw, a cultural figure.
This so called 'Santa', delivering gifts every year.

What if he took it to his pony cities,
Give gifts to Equestria's nice wholesome kiddies?

A perfect idea, but what of those naughty?
He'd put under their tree lumps of coal shoddy.

To Equestria he slithered, like a snake through the sea,
If the water was space, of which he reigned free.

He noted, observed, took all the right notes.
What colts and what fillies, if they were good folks.

This one to that, from Canterlot to Mane.
On his list he wrote out each every last name.

With time on his side, a term of no meaning,
He had forever and ever to finish his gleaning.

The nice kids he spied, to gather deep intel,
On what gifts they wanted, above others all else.

Some were unreasonable, he found those annoying.
But he was still Discord, and wanted to joy bring.

Eugh. That sounds horrible

Hush you. It's the best I could come up with.

I'm sure you could have come up with better. You're an immortal chaos demon.

Draconequus thank you, and what did I just say? Nobody wants to hear from the peanut gallery. Get back in the basement.

Those ones he made, from hand like Shy's,
The more standard ones, he just went to buy.

That wasn't quite true, he had to admit,
He stole them from stores, but left behind bits!

So it wasn't really stealing, you have to now see,
He couldn't wait in line, it would drive him crazy.

How long had he worked? He'd rather not know.
By the end he knew this, it was his last go.

A special event, once in all history.
They'd better appreciate it, those darn colts and fillies.

To jazz up his task he wove his own suit,
Of red cloth and hat, belt and black boots.

For holding the gifts, he'd need something large,
So he took a big sack, the rough size of a barge.

From hearth to hearth, under every last tree,
He deposited gifts, wrapped up so nicely.

Or for those, whom hadn't been nice,
The coal in their stocking, to drive the point right.

They'd cry and they'd moan, they'd whine and complain,
But if they wanted better, they should have had friendship on the brain.

When at last the dawn rose, on the day of Hearth's Warming,
To Fluttershy's he went, bag-eyed and kept moaning.

Yawning his lungs out, he had one final gift,
Telling what he had done, from top to finish.

She listened, ears perked, and clearly enraptured.
He told her how he her charity captured.

That feeling, that warmth, the one in his chest,
Never in eternity had he felt it, an experience best.

He understood now, the time that she sacrificed.
How it was all worth it, to bring something nice.

She smiled and hugged him, a face beaming proud.
"That means so much," she told him aloud.

He hugged her right back, smile on face.
'Til a piercing scream did rock the whole place.

They heard it from town, a certain Tiara.
He flattened his ears, off wanted to tear 'em.

Wow. Just... wow. No comment.

Alright, that's it. Back to Hades you go! You can return when I'm done.

To finish the story, so rudely disrupted,
In cheers and in anger Ponyville erupted.

She looked at him skeptical, a raised brow and flat frown.
""Was that all you did?" she said pointing to town.

Perhaps, he continued, he forgot to mention,
How he'd given coal as a form of detention.

She smiled and sighed, and shook her pink head.
"Oh Discord, you goofball," was all that she said.

And thus the book closes, on this final note.
Of Hearth's cheer and warm tidings, in limericks wrote.

We hope you've enjoyed, for what it's been worth,
We'll see you all next year, one orbit of Earth!

Author's Note:

Good god this was a challenge. Why did I decide I had to write this fic in rhyme?

Because you're an idiot.

Hey, only I'm allowed to admit that! Either way, I hope you enjoyed this... whatever this is. It's certainly the strangest and most experimental thing I've done to date.

You could say that again.

Not helping.

Comments

[Dafaddah]

This was perfectly chaotic, and chaotically perfect! Even the bad rhymes were saved more than a bit by the vivid imagery of ‘Shy

by the white snow backlit!

Thanks for a most excellent Jinglemass present!

Dafaddah

[Leviathan Eclipse]

This was brilliant