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Filthy Rich wasn’t expecting a visitor on Hearth’s Warming Eve. He also wasn’t expecting one of the world’s greatest villains to appear at his doorstep asking for forgiveness. As Filthy finds out, he’s not the only one who’s on the receiving end of her strange plea.

No, her list is quite extensive.

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One dark Hearth’s Warming Eve, Silver Polish the butler heard some strange noises coming from his employer’s personal study. The Filthy Rich estate was always prone to drafts, but these sounded nothing like wind whistling through the cracks in the siding. This sounded like a struggle.

Silver Polish opened the study door to find Filthy flinging stacks of paper about the room in a fit of confused rage. He babbled incoherently, “Is this what you want? Is this what you want? Huh?”

Silver Polish considered leaving Filthy to work things out on his own (he usually preferred staff to stay out of his way) but another more pressing matter required his attention.

“Sir? Mister Rich?” Silver said in a posh accent.

Filthy paused. Paper fluttered to the ground like so many snowflakes. “Oh. Polish. Good evening.”

“Good evening to you too, sir. I don’t mean to interrupt, but there is someone here to see you.”

“Tonight of all nights? Is it a charity or something? I don’t give to charities on principle.”

“It’s not a charity, sir.”

“Well, whoever it is can wait. As you can see, I am extremely busy.” Filthy accidentally kicked a wad of papers on the floor, sending them skittering to a stop in the corner. “Very, very busy.”

“I can see, sir. But the... mare, at the door is quite insistent.” He paused. “Menacing, too.”

Filthy regarded the disheveled state of the room around him. “Alright, fine. I’ll see to it.”

“Very good, sir. Shall I reorganize these papers?”

“No, leave them. They are all exactly where they need to be.” He tried to step around Silver Polish only to slip on a multi-million bit contract, tearing the paper in two. “Except that one. That one could use some tape.”

Once Silver Polish had left the room, Filthy adjusted his bow tie and vest. He took one more apprehensive look around the study before making his way to the main foyer to see who had disturbed him.

Who to his surprise should be at the door but one-time most dangerous pony in Equestria, one-time terrorist, one-time failed dictator, one-time reformed goodie-goodie Tempest Shadow. Her shoulders were bowed with an unseen weight, and her horn all but crackled with nervous energy. Her eyes looked so tired. They roamed the floor aimlessly, tracing the boards of the hardwood floor stretching from beneath her hooves, across the room, all the way to Filthy.

“Mister... uh...” Tempest set her jaw. “Mister Rich. Filthy Rich, and family.”

“Shouldn’t you be in jail?” Filthy asked. “Or in Tartarus? Or someplace other than my house?”

“Filthy--”

“Mr. Rich will do.”

“And the daughter, Diamond Sliver? No, that Diamond Tiara. Filthy and Diamond Tiara and your wife--”

“Mr. Rich.”

“It would be Mrs., actually.”

Filthy scowled. “Again, shouldn’t you be in jail?” He turned to Silver Polish, who had reappeared in the corner of the room. “Make a note to talk to the princesses about the gross dereliction of our country’s justice department. The real criminals are beating down my door, and yet I’m the one under investigation for tax evasion every year. Obscene.”

“Mr. Rich and family, I’ve come here tonight on a mission.”

“Maybe I should try and take over the throne,” he said to no one in particular. “If I fail I’ll still be able to run around and harass the rich for handouts, apparently.” He turned to face Tempest. “Are you here for handouts? Or are you just going to skip the pleasantries and rob me?”

The tired look in Tempest’s eyes was momentarily replaced by pure rage. “I’ve come here tonight on a mission. My recent actions have had a profound effect on not just the lives of those in Canterlot, but all across Equestria. It’s my intention--”

“You sound like an intern giving her first boardroom briefing. Skip to the heart of the issue, please.”

“It is my intention,” Tempest said between grinding teeth, “to make amends for what I’ve done. Starting by asking for forgiveness from every pony in Equestria I have wronged.”

Filthy paused. He cast a confused look at Silver Polish, who shrugged. “So, you’re not going to rob me?”

“No. I hope that by expressing my sincere and heartfelt apology, you will at least in some small way understand my willingness to change and my desire to open my heart to the magic of friendship.”

“If you’re not going to rob me, I must ask that you leave.”

“I know this may be--” Tempest paused. “What?”

“Leave, please. Good luck on your journey. I would get someone to see you out, but everyone else is asleep, and you were never technically invited in.”

“But--but you ponies are all so forgiving.”

“Some of the more rustic ones, yes. Now goodbye.”

“But wait--”

With that, Filthy slammed the door in Tempest’s face. The halls rang with such a satisfying echo.

“Now, I will have to return to my study. Silver, please don’t let anyone else in tonight.”

Before Silver could nod, a bright flash of light filled up the room. Filthy blinked away stars to find Tempest standing right in front of him.

“Breaking and entering!” he shivered. “Or, just entering. If you had been smart, you would have chosen a better law to break on my property.”

“Mr. Rich,” Tempest said, “you don’t understand. This is vitally important.”

“If you’re going to get the whole country to forgive you, you’d better get going. There’s a lot of friendly souls out there in need of gratification.”

“Yes, I know. I know very well how many ponies are out there. I’ve counted ten thousand and twenty four so far.”

Filthy laughed in her face. “The population of Canterlot alone is nearly ten thousand. Good luck and goodnight.”

Filthy tried to go around the seething Tempest, but another flash of light brought him nose to nose with the scarred unicorn.

“You don’t understand,” she repeated. “This is deeper than you or me.”

“Get away from me.”

Tempest just pulled him closer. “Have you ever felt compelled to do something?”

“Like listen to you? No. I compel others.”

“No. Like, have you ever felt supernaturally compelled?”

The foyer fell dead silent. In the pause, the faint sound of ticking clocks could be heard from down the hall. Silver Polish looked on, frozen to the spot, unsure of whether to charge the unicorn and get zapped or do nothing and lose his job for sure.

Slowly, Filthy’s smug scowl fell into something much less haughty. “What are you talking about?”

“By my estimations, this night has lasted nearly eight days, but only for me. It won’t end until I apologize to every pony in Equestria.”

“What on earth makes you think that? Maybe you’re just crazy. That seems reasonable.”

“I wish I were. Look--can I just tell him?” she asked, turning her head to look into an empty adjacent hallway.

“Um--let’s not rule out insanity here.” No longer held in place, Filthy back away.

Tempest groaned. “Then how am I supposed to--okay okay, whatever, I’ll try.” she turned back to Filthy. “I am being compelled by something beyond the realm of understanding here.” She turned back to face nopony. “Is that vague enough for you?” A pause. “No?”

“Oookay.”

“Look. I’m being compelled by... my conscience. Yeah, conscience. I’m being compelled to forgive every pony I’ve wronged since I came to this place. It just so happens that I seem to have wronged every pony in Equestria.”

Silver Polish finally found his nerves and walked off to phone the police. Filthy stopped him before he could leave the room.

“Not so fast. Put a pot of coffee on and don’t let anyone else know of this.”

Silver nodded. “As you wish.”

Tempest asked, “So does this mean you’ll accept my apology?”

Filthy crossed the room, until he was almost nose to nose with Tempest. After a pause that seemed to stretch on for hours, he said, “So you say you’re being compelled to make amends?”

If the closeness wasn’t weird before, it was definitely giving Tempest a strange feeling now. Or maybe it was Filthy’s eyes, how they darted around the room before alighting on hers.

“Yeah,” Tempest said. “Compelled. By my conscience.”

“But not just your conscience, yes? By something else. Something with the power to turn one night into eight. And you’re not even halfway through.”

“Uh--you know what? I think I should come back some other time. Do you plan on getting drunk anytime soon? I’ll come back then. Stallions are more agreeable when they’re drunk.”

“You’ll do no such thing.” Filthy straightened his back, and for the first time Tempest realized just how imposing a stallion Filthy could be when he was onto something. “Tell me.”

“You wouldn’t understand it anyway. It’s beyond your stupid mind.”

“Don’t underestimate me, villain. You’re haunted, aren’t you?”

Tempest’s pupils shrank. With a deft slap-n-slip motion, she put some distance between herself and Filthy. While the ladder was left subbing his ears and cursing, Tempest shook out her mane and relaxed a little.

“Haunted by a guilty conscience.”

Filthy let out a long sigh and looked for a chair to sit down in. “If I accept your apology,” he said slowly, “will you leave?”

“I’ll never set foot in this stupid house again,” Tempest replied.

Filthy dragged an ornate chair over from one side of the room and plopped himself down. All the hours he should have spent sleeping were catching up with him in a hurry. “Then I forgive you.”

A moment passed. Tempest looked around. “Um--could you say it a little louder?”

“I forgive you,” Filthy belted, his voice ringing through the dimly lit hallways.

“Alright... I think that will do it. That will do it, right?”

“What are you asking me for?”

Tempest shushed him. “I wasn’t asking you.” After another moment of silence, she nodded. “Good enough. Happy Hearth’s Warming, Filthy Rich.”

As the door shut behind her, Filthy called out, “And if you ever come back, I’m suing you!”

Finally, Filthy was alone again. With no sign of Silver Polish or any of the other mansion staff, he slipped out of the chair and pushed it back to its corner.

“Did you see all that?” he asked no one in particular.

From out of the corner of his eye, a shadow moved along the wall, making its way to the floor before solidifying in the rough shape of a pony.

I did, it said in a voice as coarse and cracked as burnt charcoal.

“So, what? You can be in more than one place at once? Haunt more than one pony at once?”

Silence.

“Are you going to make me do that too? Go house to house and--” Filthy gulped, “apologize?”

Yes, it replied.

His legs grew weak. “Does she count as one?”

The ghost of Hearth’s Warming replied, Don’t be so glum. You never tried to take over the world. Your list is shorter than hers... but not by much.

Filthy wailed, a terrible sound that filled the halls of the Rich manor with despair. “But I tore up all those contracts!”