For Old Times' Sake

by fic Write Off

Rating: teen
Tags: Random, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 18501

Writefriends from all over /fic/ gathered in a war of words on Jun 23 2013. These are the resulting stories.

Writefriends from all over /fic/ gathered in a war of words on Jun 23 2013. These are the resulting stories.

But who is the greatest a/fic/ionado? That is for you to decide. Vote, rate, and choose your favourites!

See http://writeoff.rogerdodger.me/event/17 for more info.

Published 2013-06-24 14:50:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-06-24 14:50:02 UTC

Nouveau

The earthy, dark aroma wafted up to her nose, carrying with it the faintest promise of a sweetness. First came the bitter and astringent overtones, carefully balanced by the bold and fruity body. She rolled her tongue and swallowed - only then did the alcohol make itself apparent, bringing complexity to what would otherwise be a dull finish.

Berry sighed as she set the wineglass back on the table, the hollow tinkle of glass on wood betraying its emptiness. With one hoof steadying the wineglass, Berry fumbled for the bottle in the darkness, the light haze of alcohol taking its toll. It was a fine reunion, she reasoned as her hoof met the cool resistance of the waiting bottle. The wine brought back memories, a bridge across time with herself, reaching back six years with a single bottle. A party for one, a glass shared with many.

A somberness settled over her thoughts as the wine glugged into the glass. Years ago she had been somepony else entirely. No kid, no real job, and a friend at the bottom at every glass. The days passed in a meaningless blur as she accomplished nothing and went nowhere.

She raised the glass to her lips. A night wasted just like any other, full of careless words and risky choices. Even now, she didn’t know the date of that mess of a night, only the poor guess afforded by counting back the weeks. Worse of all, she was oblivious until she had drunk herself into poverty, and the morning sickness finally became distinguishable from a hangover. That morning was full of a shame unlike any she had felt before, and she promised herself, and her foal-to-be, that she would do better.

Even though the rose glasses of time and wine, the process carried with it no pleasant feelings. Giving up drink was easy, at first - she was too poor to afford anything but water anyways. With sobriety came savings, and although her wage was meager, bits started to pile up. With time, those bits turned into a stocked pantry and supplies for the coming foal. She even quit her job tending to the vineyard - she could hardly manage it in her condition - and turned her drinking experience into a new career constructing drink menus for some fancy-pants restaurant in the city. It was tough, but she loved it. For the first time in her life, she felt like an adult, with responsibilities and regularity.

Berry grimaced at the memory as the wine hit her lips. She had been so foolish.

After Ruby was born, it was like the supports she had used to shore herself up started to crumble under the pressure of the newborn. Despite the brave face she put on every morning, caring for a foal all alone was almost more than she could handle. She was running out of money. The nights passed with little rest, while the days wobbled between struggling to find a babysitter and spending the day watching Ruby. What little work she could manage became a cruel grind as the alcohol she had once embraced and then forsaken taunted her with a familiar promise.

The wine, now almost sickly sweet in her bitterness, poured down her throat. Just one glass, she had told herself in her desperation for release. She shouldn’t have gone looking, she shouldn’t have checked out that hole-in-the-wall booze shack on the way home. But despite all the things she shouldn’t have done, she found herself the giddy owner of a fine bottle of double-discounted wine.

But after that night of excess, morning did not come for her. There was no peeking of sunlight through the windowpane, nothing but darkness. Tained alcohol, the doctors had told her, probably shaking their heads. The only thing that held her together at all at that point was Ruby. In that new and terrifying night, she became her only guiding light.

Hot tears slipped down her cheeks in the darkness, dripping softly on the table as the glass hit the table, the last of the wine gone. That was then, she reminded herself, this was nothing more than a celebration of what she found for herself, those years ago. Berry pushed the kitchen chair back three hoof-widths, sauntering confidently - if wobbly - the five paces right and twelve steps up to Ruby’s room, where she pushed the door open with her snout.

“Sleep well, Ruby. Mommy loves you more than anything else."

Outlook

Despite being a pegasus by birth, Vanilla Cake knew very well what magic sounded like. Mommy used it sometimes when she was in the kitchen making a cake or a tray of cupcakes; her horn would light up and shoot off sparks the same color as her eyes, and the sparks would sing to her, tinkling and chiming against the air as they soared off Mommy’s horn and danced around a spoon or a spatula or a big giant whisk as big as her hoof.

The Stallion was the one using it now; she called him that because she’d never figured out his name. He had just showed up yesterday, and Mommy had let him in and talked to him for a while like they had known each other forever. She didn’t seem to like him at first, and Vanilla herself didn’t quite like him either. He wasn’t Mommy’s friend, for one thing. Vanilla had friends, two other fillies who lived down the street and were called Cirrus and Buttercup, and she saw them every day when she went outside to play. That’s what friends were: ponies you saw every day, ponies you liked to be around. Vanilla had never seen the Stallion in her life before.

More importantly, he was a pegasus just like her, and pegasuses couldn’t use magic. Everypony knew that. So when she woke up that morning and heard magic in his room, she knew she had another reason not to trust him. How could she be friends with a pegasus that wasn’t even a real pegasus?

Already in a grouchy mood from being woken up so early on a Sunday, she followed the Stallion downstairs as he trotted out of his room and down the stairs, nearly knocking her over as he passed with his tan wings stretched out and his brown mane messy from rolling around in bed. She was still navigating the landing halfway down when Mommy saw him trying to leave, when he turned around with a look like he’d been caught doing something bad. Which he probably had been. Pegasuses who weren’t really pegasuses probably told a lot of other lies too.

“Pumpkin, I-I’m so sorry,” he started saying, “This isn’t... it’s not my choice, I told him I was off this weekend, they’re being completely unreasonable...”

To her credit, Mommy wasn’t buying it. In fact, she looked a weird kind of happy, like she knew this was going to happen. Like she knew the Stallion wasn’t really her friend either.

“Look, I promise I’ll write sometime and I’ll be back as soon as I can... it’s just that I got this letter now from the boss and he actually bothered to magic it out here just to tell me I’m fired if I don’t...”

“It’s fine. Just go,” Mommy said. Her eyes were hard. She was mad.

“I...”

And that was all. The Stallion muttered something that Vanilla couldn’t hear, and then he was gone, out the door and into the sky faster than she’d ever seen a pegasus go. She watched him fly for a bit, wondering whether he was a pony like the princesses who could fly AND do magic, and then Mommy was next to her and pulling her back up the stairs, telling her to go back to bed and quit staring ‘cause it’s not polite.

“Who was that stallion, Mommy?” she asked just before Mommy closed her door again.

“Nobody,” Mommy said. She was still mad, but her eyes were watering now too. “Just an old friend.”

More than Tradition

The unicorn banker watched the display with detached professionalism. It was not uncommon to see a dragon disgorge its entire horde in a gout of gold, gems, and the occasional sentimental knickknack.

Beating his chest a few times, the dragon burped up a single coin, which unerringly took an interception path with the moneymare’s forehead. Two hands that could crush boulders flew up to his mouth at the sight of the new griffon head-shaped imprint. “Err, sorry,” he said in a voice far smaller than expected of a Greater Dragon.

The cream- (and now gold-) colored pony adjusted her glasses. “It is quite fine, Your Highness. I shall wear this bruise like a badge of honour,” she replied with a monotone that could put an insomniac to sleep within the time it took to detail one stock portfolio. “Just sign here and our business will be concluded.”

“Be extra careful with that fire ruby,” he said before taking the proffered scroll and, with deftness that belied his monstrous claws, signed it.

Spike

The transformation via transfer of wealth was immediate. Within moments he had shrunken to a tenth of his size, ending at a merely impressive ten feet of height.

“Now maybe you’ll be able to fit through the doors, King Spike,” said a familiar voice behind him.

Spike turned around, a smile composed of razor-sharp teeth and all the warmth of a nice lava pool perched on his face. “Hah! Hello to you, too, Princess Twilight,” he boomed. Spike patted his stomach. “You wouldn’t be implying I’m fat, would you?”

The alicorn flew up and planted a delicate kiss on one of Spike’s cheek scales. “Of course not. I’m just wondering if ‘Future Spike’ is being left to deal with you eating too many treasuries at once again.”

“That only happened once. Besides, it’s your fault for leaving the vault unlocked,” he said, his accusation weakened by an embarrassed chuckle.

The pair turned to leave the bank.

“I still find calling you ‘King’ to feel strange, Spike,” Twilight commented as they travelled through Canterlot Castle’s cavernous halls.

“I could say the same about you being ‘Princess’.” He grinned. “Strange to know my title technically puts me above you, Twilight.”

“No number of titles will save your king from my princess in chess, though,” Twilight quipped as they turned into her private study.

Spike sent the innocent board of wood and its assembled figures a burning glare, accented by a puff of fire. “It’s a queen, and one of these days, Twilight, one of these days...”

She laughed. “It’s not like we don’t have all the time in the world to work on how to make proper use of your knights.”

Another grunt escaped him; Spike had long ago learned why dragons weren’t particular towards knights. With lizardy wisdom, he chose to pursue the first part of Twilight’s reply instead. “A lot of time, yes, but not all the time...” he said slowly. “Otherwise, well, we wouldn’t be doing this again, would we?”

The smile on Twilight’s face fled. “...Yes, of course.” She gave the dragon a half-hearted poke with a hoof. “And there we were, almost having fun.”

Spike picked up a quill and roll of parchment. “We can do ‘fun’ afterwards. Better than before, so it isn’t soured by what comes after.”

An inkwell, surrounded by a purple glow, flew over to the dragon. “Never thought I’d see the day when you would be telling me to stop playing around. Guess there’s a lot of time for that now.”

The tapping of Spike’s quill against the side of the inkwell filled the quietude. “Yeah, lots of time.”

Twilight cleared her throat. “Dear Applejack...” she said as Spike began to inscribe her dictations.

And so it went. Strong for Applejack, soft with Fluttershy, playful when it was Pinkie’s, fast like Rainbow. Twilight slowed down for Rarity, to let Spike’s erratic scratchings keep up. Luna’s was delicate and deep, much like the heavens she cared for.

Celestia’s page remained empty for a long time as Spike and Twilight stared at its expanse. Finally, she filled it with the same message she had for the past hundred years.

Dear Princess Celestia:

I miss you.

Your faithful student and friend, Twilight Sparkle

Twilight and Spike watched in silence as the wind carried the last of the emerald sparks away. Spike, as always, broke the silence first.

“I’m going to beat you this time.”

Twilight allowed herself to smile. “My princess says otherwise.”

A Mistake From the Past

I laid in the field of flowers, calmly waiting for my fair maiden to arrive. Like so many other days, we would meet. We'd talk for hours upon hours yet it would pass by far too quickly, like a dream. On this particularly day though, she was late.

My thoughts drifted back to the first day we met. Before I saw her, I merely existed. I had no purpose. At the time, I was going nowhere in life and I thought I was lower than dirt. But her, she saw something in me that I didn't even see in myself. And that, that was truly inspiring.

Oh Rarity, my darling angel. You've given me a second chance at life, and because of that I shall wait forever.

And waited I did. I watched the leafs as they blew through the sky, the ladybugs as they crawled on the grass below, and the gentle sun shining through the sky. I listened for sounds of approaching hoofsteps and sniffed for the familiar smell of lavender. Like an eternity, every second slowly gripping my heart into a vice.

Finally, she stumbled through the field. Her makeup was running and light reflected off her face. She walked over to me and rubbed a hoof on my face. She waited in silence but said nothing, so I did the same. For what does one say to a beauty such as this? I said I would wait, and so I did.

Eventually, she sighed. "I'm sorry. I can't do this anymore. Please forgive me." She turned away from me.

I wasn't sure what to say, so I remained quiet. But inside my head, my thoughts screamed. But why? Was it something I did? What did I do?

"Look. I know we used to have something special, but it's not working anymore. I NEED a real stallion in my life."

What? What changed? We still work well together, don't we? Just tell me what it is! I can change! I looked pleadingly at her, trying to bore through the back of her head with my sight, but alas, to no effect. I tried to reach out, but I couldn't. I tried to shout words, but nothing came out. Everything I did, it felt like I was frozen.

Rarity shook her head. "It has to end."

I stared at her, words caught in my throat. What could I say, anyway? Please take me back? I was stupified. At a loss. Stumped.

"Please don't look at me like that. I... I just don't feel the same way anymore, okay? I was different back then. I was selfish. Confused. But now I realize differently." She leaned forward and pecked me on the cheek. She stared me in the eyes and looked me up and down. "I never meant to hurt you."

As she waved goodbye and blew me a kiss, I gaped with my mouth open. What had I done? Had it been me? Why the sudden change? Way too many questions and far too few answers. She turned around at the last second, and I could see tears streaming down her face. She mouthed the words "I'm sorry, Tom" before cantering away from sight.

I had watched her walk away, but I had to stop. I just couldn't look at her. It would just crush me inside. All I could do was stare past her, stoically into the sunset. It was her decision after all, and I would honor it. Who knows? She might even change her mind and come back. It was a slim hope, but the only thing I could cling onto.

After all, it was all I could do. In this field of flowers, for her I would wait... forever.

A Trick of Memory

“Pinkie, you’re so stupid that...” Gilda tapped a claw on her beak and squinted.

“That what?” Pinkie Pie replied, her mouth all geared up to laugh.

“That... you thought Mi Amore Cadenza was a place to keep your little black book.” Gilda forced a grin and held her breath.

“I... don’t get it.”

“Well, ‘Mi Amore’ is like ‘love,’ so...” A claw circled in midair as if to unfurl the scroll containing the rest of the joke.

“I got that part. It’s the rest,” Pinkie said while scratching her head.

“Well, ‘Cadenza’ sounds kind of like ‘credenza.’”

“Yeah... needs too much explanation. Not your best effort.” Pinkie reached a hoof up toward a far-off cloud. “Now, if you’d said I was so stupid that I thought Sugarcube Corner was the one who pronounced ponies dead from sugar overload, that would have been funny, because—” she glanced around to make sure nobody else might hear “—that’s actually come close to happening before.”

Gilda widened her eyes at Pinkie’s giggling. That seemed a rather morbid thing to joke about...

“Ah, just kidding, silly head.” Pinkie rolled onto her side to face Gilda, who kept a close eye to make sure she didn’t go too far.

“Careful, Pinkie,” Gilda said as she raised a foreleg to shove Pinkie back.

“Oh, I’m always careful!” Pinkie replied, but then raised an eyebrow and rolled her eyes upward. “Or is it never...?”

Pinkie lay on a woven mat of feathers. Over the last few seasons, whenever Gilda had molted, plucked a loose feather, whatever... she’d saved them all and had Fluttershy sew them together, and now Pinkie could come up to the clouds with her. “Do you like it up here?”

Pinkie nodded vigorously, then rolled onto her back again and crossed her forelegs behind her head. “Yeah. It’s always neat to see the clouds from this side.”

Propping up on a shoulder, Gilda stared at Pinkie, but it took her a while to notice. But when she did, she just gave back that same warm smile she always had—the one that said its target was already a friend, whether she knew it or not. “Pinkie, why was I such a jerk back then?”

“You just hadn’t matured yet,” Pinkie said through her toothy grin. “It’s okay. You simply had to get it out of your system, play all the pranks, yell all the insults, eat all the cupcakes, throw all the parties...” She scowled for a moment. “Wait, I think I took a wrong turn there.”

Gilda had to laugh. Did Pinkie do that deliberately, or did her mind just work that way? Pinkie probably didn’t know, either.

But like all things, laughter ends. Gilda flicked a wingtip over the lightning-bolt-shaped choker she wore and exhaled a deep sigh. “Why me? Why’d she leave this to me?”

Pinkie smiled and patted Gilda’s shoulder. “Because she saw something in you, silly! She knew there was a quality she liked, buried deep in there—” she poked a hoof at Gilda’s chest “—that she thought was special. She stuck by you when you didn’t feel worth it.”

Gilda frowned. “I know that last part. But why?”

“Duh!” Pinkie crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out. “Element of Loyalty!”

“I know,” Gilda said, her gaze wandering to the horizon. “But she didn’t have an obligation. She chose to.”

Pinkie could only nod. “My turn, then. Why me, Gilda?”

She puffed out her feathers and took a long breath. “Because I was awful to you. To everyone, but especially you. I figured if I was supposed to live up to this gig, I’d better start there. If I could win you over...”

“And you did!” Pinkie leapt over and hugged her, nearly making Gilda’s heart stop. Pinkie’s hind legs dangled through the cloud’s surface, and Gilda kept an iron grip on her. Crazy pony, trusting her like that. Trusting her...

Gilda hovered for a moment and let Pinkie roll up her mat. Then Pinkie glanced up at Gilda’s choker. “You don’t have to wear that all the time, you know.”

“Yes, I do.” She could never forget. Or repay.

Pinkie pursed her lips. “Tell you what. In honor of Dashie, let’s go pull a prank.”

“I don’t know.” Not exactly the image Gilda wanted anymore...

“C’mon. Applejack’s a good sport. And it’s for Dashie.” Who could ever resist that smile?

“Fine.” Gilda swished her tail. “But keep it low-key.”

“Ooookayyyy. But I can’t Pinkie Promise...”

Marry Me

"It's the Summer Sun Celebration, you know."

There came the quiet chink of glass. The stallion smiled as he glanced over the assembly of flowers he'd placed in the vase, with another flowerpot waiting beside it. He set that one down on the mantle and looked back over the shoulder.

"Yes, luv, I know," he huffed. "It's right there on the calendar. But I can't help it—it's my favorite holiday." He paused, and a smile crossed his face. "Well, next to Nightmare Night, of couse."

He turned to the side and picked up a small piece of fabric, holding it delicately between his teeth. With a flick of his neck, the tablecloth flew out over the table. He made sure to smooth out any of the wrinkles on its surface. "There we go," he said, stepping back to admire his handiwork. It was a good, clean cloth, red and white with a checkered pattern.

"Remember when we picked this old thing up in the market?" He stifled a chuckle, shaking his head. "I told you not to waste a bit on it, but you wouldn't have it. You shelled out every one of your twenty bits for the old thing, and you never regretted it."

He frowned; the air felt too stale. Stuffy, even.

"Well, that won't do." He trotted over and reached up with his hooves to swing open the windows and pull back their shades. Instantly, light streamed in, and a warm, airy breeze blew into the room.

He trotted toward the window and took a deep breath of the summer air. "Much better." The sunlight fell on his coat, and he closed his eyes, just enjoying its warmth. "How's that, luv?"

A thick, humid scent passed beneath his nose, and his eyes widened. "That'll be the tea. No, no—I got it."

He hurried over to the stove, where a pink teakettle was whistling over a bright red flame. He popped open the cap and hissed softly as the hot metal burned his hoof. Resisting the urge to pout, he sucked on his hoof to make the pain go away. "Yes, yes. Very funny, luv. I know."

There were two cups by the stove, each already with a teabag inside. "All the store had was mint. I hope that's fine by you."

Steam hissed out of the cups as he poured, and a rich, green color diffused into the water. He took a sniff and smiled. "That's strong stuff, right there. Honey, or sugar?"

Without waiting for a reply, he pushed over a bowl of sugarcubes. "No, luv—don't bother answering. I know already. Two sugars, a spot of cream, and mix."

He hummed to himself as he stirred, the warm breeze drifting across the room. "You like the daffodils? Got them from the Apples down in the market. Seemed more than happy to sell me some extras."

He sat down at the table, the saucers clinking on the aged wood. "There we go."

The two teacups sat patiently on the table as he took a seat. His hooves shook slightly, but he wasn't bothered. Gingerly, he fidgeted on the seat until he was comfortable and then looked across the table.

A small object sat at the other end, right beside the teacup. With a sigh, he reached over and took it in his hooves, staring down at it as the smell of mint wafted across his nostrils.

"I wonder if we'll see Celestia this year," he murmured, running a hoof down the side of the picture frame. "I heard she's coming back to Ponyville for the Celebration. After all these years." Won't that be grand?"

His eyes flickered over the frame again. A pair of foals, one a pale, purple unicorn, the other a white-and-brown-speckled earth pony, beamed back at him, rolling around in the dirt. He chuckled; both were wearing bright red bandanas, with wooden swords held in their mouths. Their smiles spread from ear to ear, frozen in the locked time of a photograph.

"Won't that be grand," he echoed.

He set the frame back on the table.

Glass Creations

Watching as the ponies passed by with nary a second glance, he sighed. His stall was filled with glass animals of all kinds, but nopony was biting. They kept walking by, ignoring him like he was some kind of street beggar. Sure, he wasn’t the fanciest-looking pony, but he figured he could at least sell something. He tried to wave over a few of them, but they walked faster and pretended not to hear him.

“Come one, come all! Come see the greatest creations made of glass that you’ve ever seen! Monkeys, bunnies, tigers, and bears! Every animal you can think of, I can make! Elephants or whales or pigs, even kangaroos and spiders and dogs, oh my!” He smiled as wide as he could, gesturing towards his wares.

But still, they walked on. He looked down at his empty bucket and saw naught but cobwebs. Even after sitting all day in the freezing cold, there had been nopony. He couldn’t understand why. He tried to corner some of the slower ponies, but all he got were excuses.

“Sorry, I’m not interested.”

“Not my cup of tea.”

“I don’t have any bits on me. Sorry.”

“I don’t like the way it looks.”

At first, he was hopeful. “I’m sure the next pony will buy something. It’ll be okay. Everything’s okay,” he told himself.

But as time passed, the expression on his face sagged. “Why is everypony ignoring me? Those stuck-up prats!” He got a few looks as he shouted at nopony. “Them and their shiny coats. Probably think their poop doesn’t stink, either!

One of the ponies wandered by to take a closer look at what he had to sell, but at that point, he just didn’t care anymore. “What are you looking at?” he shouted.

The colt yelped and ran away.

“What’s wrong with them? Can’t they see true beauty?” He tried to keep it bottled up, but it burned inside him like a raging inferno. “Those snooty little ponies! Judging me and my art! How dare they judge me?” He slouched in his seat and crossed his forelegs. All he could do was wait.

He paced back and forth. Ponies tried to walk past him, but he blocked their way. “Hey! Want to buy a glass horse? How about a rooster?” They glared at him and pushed their way past. All he could do was ignore his grumbling stomach. He tried to relieve it by drinking water, but it growled like a beast. He rubbed his belly. “Just be patient. I’m sure somepony will buy soon.”

He rubbed the tiny glass unicorn between his hooves. He wasn’t even sure if you could even call it that. It was crude and misshapen, more like a unrefined hunk of crystal, but it was his. He remembered having fun, at least before he tried to show his friends. But they told me that it was garbage and that he should give up. But he couldn’t. He has way too much fun making it, so he kept going.

When he first started, he met others who had shared his passion. At least at first. But eventually, their interests waded and he was left alone. The few he knew that became great eventually forgot about him and everypony else gave up. He wanted to be different from the rest. He vowed on that day never to give up.

He created as many pieces as he could. Studied every book, tried to follow other sculptor’s techniques, found a mentor and yet... nothing. It felt like nopony liked what he made.

Glancing at the rest of the pieces, he noticed a very small trend appearing. Gradually, they became sharper, clearer, more defined. He yawned. Lately it’s been becoming more of a chore to make them. He had hoped that he could sell something, even just one thing, to prove he hadn’t completely wasted his time. But no matter what he did, others criticized his creations. After a while, it just stopped being fun. He used to take joy in his work, used to be proud, but now... it wasn’t the same.

Still, he felt that he had to keep going. If he was going to become great some day, he had to push through. He took a deep breath before grabbing each piece and gently setting them into their proper casings. After setting them on his trolley, he pushed it towards his home. Perhaps one day. Just gotta not give up, that’s all.

Veneer

“No, no! Not the honeydew lotion! The cantaloupe!” said the overweight mare as Aloe closed her eyes and bowed. “I swear, I don’t know why I keep you around.”

Aloe rushed to wipe the mistake off and apply the correct product.

“Maybe I should get Lotus to do this,” the mare continued.

“That won’t be necessary!” Aloe leaned in and used a hoof to shield her words from prying ears. “She’s... not that good. I try to cover for her, but—”

“Really?” The mare snorted and shook her head. “I haven’t bothered with her before. If you’re really the better...” A heavy sigh sounded next to Aloe’s ear. “I really hope I’m not wasting my time with you two.”

The mare absentmindedly dangled a hoof in the air; Aloe cradled it in her own and kissed it. “What manestyle would madame like today?”

“Surprise me.”

Aloe trembled. She clenched her jaw to keep her voice steady—good thing that moisturizing mask kept her client from seeing. At least if she had a starting point... Now, Aloe would be chastised not only for messing up a coiffure, but for choosing the wrong one in the first place, too.

A door closed softly in the hallway, and Lotus poked her head into the salon. “Need help?”

“I have it covered,” Aloe replied with a grimace. Lotus glared back.

For twins, they really were quite different. Lotus simply didn’t understand some things. Perhaps it was better that way—she was a little on the sensitive side.

“Yes, Aloe is managing her best. No need,” the mare added. “I hope you both appreciate what I do for you. These are valuable skills, and I won’t teach just anypony.”

“Of course,” Aloe mumbled. Lotus huffed and stalked off.

“Lotus needs to adjust her attitude if she wants to make it in this business. I trust that later you’ll show her what you learned today.”

“Certainly, madame.” Though her client couldn’t see her, Aloe bowed. If she didn’t, that mare would know. She always knew. “Lotus has a few of her own regulars already. I think you’ll be proud of her.”

Another snort. “We’ll see.”

Truth be told, Lotus was the more gifted stylist. And Aloe was proud of her. Lotus didn’t understand; she shouldn’t have to.

She fought down tears as she glanced at the recently vacated doorway, then at her still-new cutie mark. Was this her destiny?

“Well?” the portly mare barked. “My mane can’t wait forever.”

“Yes, mother—uh, madame.” Aloe held her hooves to her mouth. Maybe she hadn’t noticed. Or maybe she’d keep that little flub filed away until she needed a reason to chide Aloe.

“My apologies, madame.”

Lotus carefully brushed gel coat onto her client’s hooves and blew on them. “Is this the proper shade, madame?”

Pennywise sat up and frowned at the burgundy hue. “Not quite. I wanted something a little lighter. Honestly, this isn’t that hard.” She reached for the nearest cloth—which happened to be Lotus’s spare apron—and wiped off the offending polish. “It’s not one of the standard colors. You’ll have to do a custom mix. I thought you understood that.”

“Yes, madame.” Lotus’s lower lip quivered, and she flinched toward the back room. But to her credit, she held her ground.

Aloe stepped between them and curled her foreleg across Pennywise’s back. She liked her work. She really did. Not every customer was like this—far from it. But these ones, who reminded her of—

“Don’t worry, madame. I’ll fix everything.” Lotus peered over, but Aloe couldn’t read her expression.

“I should hope so. I swear, I should have my husband, Filthy Rich, buy this place and staff it properly.”

“Yes, madame.” Aloe took her buffing cloth and smoothed Pennywise’s hooves again before picking out a few colors of polish and a mixing board. “I’ll see to it that madame is satisfied.”

After one stride away, Lotus bit her lip and leaned back to Aloe’s ear. “You just want the ritzy customers to get the big tips.”

Aloe always split her tips with Lotus. She must have known that. If not... Well, perhaps it was better that way.

But Lotus hadn’t left yet. “And you deserve every bit,” she whispered, giving Aloe a little squeeze. “Thank you. For always watching out for me. I did notice. Even back then.” Aloe gasped. And Lotus went off to have another good cry.

The Night Mare and the Dream

Every year since Luna's return, the western wing of the palace was emptied of staff for the night of the lunar eclipse. The Princess of the Night walked down the gallery among abandoned guard posts and undusted statuary. She frowned when she saw a pony standing by the engraved golden doors at the end of the hall. A blue silken robe embroidered with silver stars covered the colt's lean white body.

He bowed as she approached, offering a crystal vial in his outstretched hoof. "I've asked the servants to let me prepare your tincture tonight, Princess" he said.

The top of his head almost reached her withers by then, but the sleeves of his robe still dragged on the floor. "My dearest student, Pipsqueak," she said, "why are you not outside, enjoying the celebration with the other foals?" She took the vial, the black liquid sloshing inside.

"I want to help you. I want to prove I'm ready."

"You prepared my nightshade," she said. "You are already a stallion."

"I want to go with you."

"You are not ready yet, my student." She raised a hoof to his face and traced the outline of his chin, still covered in soft coltish whiskers, but already settling into a sharp square shape. "You learned much, you walked with me through many nights, but you are still too young for this."

He leaned forward slightly, his skin brushing against the soft of her hoof. "Do you remember how old I was when you first took me on a walk?"

"Ten, and you almost died when we found a nightmare in that flower seller's dream," she said. "Do you remember?"

"I remember drinking the nightshade, saying the words, and falling into the swirling colors. I remember the dog with the smoking fur and glowing eyes big as saucers. You kicked me into a bush of roses that shattered like porcelain. It jumped on you and sunk its claws into your coat even as you choked its throat with your magic. I closed my eyes, but I remember the sound, like supple bark torn from a tree, as you banished it back to the Moon."

"Were you not afraid?"

She tried to feel any tremor on his face or see anything in his eyes that remained of that little colt who accepted her mentorship on the spot and then cried on his first night in the palace, hugging his mother's blanket while thunder cracked outside. But he looked her straight in the eyes and all Luna saw was her own face, wrinkled, sweaty, regretful.

"My faithful student, Pipsqueak," she said, taking away her hoof, "You could follow me anywhere, but not into this dream, not when the Moon is in eclipse."

"You said the same to me the year I first walked with you. You told me you would go in alone, and in the morning I could see the pain in your eyes," he said. "Why? She couldn't help herself, and you can't save yourself either. If you take all the pain on yourself, would she be happier?"

"It is so because you are my student, but you are your mother's and father's son, and I gave them my word that I would protect you. Were you only my own—"

He jumped, embracing her neck with his short legs. She held him to her chest tightly and closed her tearful eyes.

"Go, I will be fine." She kissed him on the brown spot behind his ear and let go. "Prepare your tincture and incantations; tomorrow night, we walk together."

He nodded, holding his jaw tense so she wouldn't see how his throat jumped when he sobbed. She walked past him, brushing her wing against his side. The door closed behind her with a soft click.

The balcony door was open, letting inside a warm breeze and the pale light of the shadowed moon. Celestia slept in her bed, her shivers sending ripples through her ethereal hair. The silk blanket lay crumpled over the cushion left for Luna, and she covered her sister with it before sitting down.

"He's right, I cannot help you," she said, pulling out the stopper on the crystal vial. "A thousand years, a thousand nights of the same nightmare, and you couldn't help yourself. How can I hope to save myself?" She smiled as the pungent smell snaked into her head. "Thankfully, he is growing up fast."

She drank the nightshade, said the words, and fell into the swirling colors.

Living for The Chase

"I thought we agreed to keep the chaos around the castle to a minimum."

Discord glanced back at Celestia for only a moment before going back to his show. He was sitting in the statue garden, his rump resting on the pedestal that had been his home for centuries. He was a stationary center to the party that had overtaken the statues. They were alive, dancing as if in a disco as silent laughter escape their lips.

They all seemed to be having far more fun than Discord.

"And what are you going to do about it? Talk to me?" Discord quipped.

Celestia moved up beside him. "That was my intention. Were you expecting me to do something else?"

"Expecting, no.” Discord stood up on the pedestal, stretching and popping his back. “Was I maybe hoping you'd come out here, screaming your head off?” His head rolled off his shoulders, and he rolled around his arms, chest, and back like a basketball. He then scooped it up his melon in his claw and paw, jumped a little, and shot it into the air. The perfect arc landed it admist the dancing statues, who began to bounce it around like a beach volley ball. “Did I maybe hope you’d try to skewer me with a few spells while I flew away? Maybe.”

Celestia’s eyes followed Discord’s head as it continued to bounce back and forth between the statues. “Things change Discord. We are not enemies anymore. You are an ally to the kingdom, a friend."

"Ah, but that is the problem Celestia," Discord said, tapping his nose with his mustache. The statues’ party ended. One of them tossed Discord’s head back to his body, and soon the garden was back to it’s orderly norm. "When you make friends out of all your enemies, then that means you're out of enemies to torment." He floated towards her, circly her once before letting his paw hang across her shoulder. “I miss the old chase. Sure, the last two times I lost I ended up wearing a stone suit, but it sure was fun while it lasted. I'd even slip back into that horribly itchy attire for the thrill of the old chase."

"All you need is time to find other ways to entertain yourself," Celestia said, trying to console the moping draconequus. "How about we... get lunch? lt might be nice to sit and talk over a meal."

"That's sweet of you to offer, Celestia. And look, you were kind enough to bring it with you." Discord snapped his fingers, producing a takeout box filled with what appeared to be pink, green, & blue chow mien. = He then spun his claw, producing a long, white, cylindrical object with spirals about its circumferences. Celestia started at him a second, wondering what his meal seemed so familiar.

Celestia then, in a flash, raised a hoof to her head, feeling only smooth fur where her horn and mane should have been. She opened her mouth to say something, to ask Discord to return it, but the words were killed on her tongue by a resounding snap. Discord split her horn in two and balanced the haves delicately in his claws, using them as chopsticks.

"Discord!"

Celestia shout was heard across the castle, and it was promptly followed by Discord's laugh as the age old chase began anew. He flew ahead of her, always staying out of reach as he continued to use his horn chopsticks. All the while he taunted and teased, causing Celestia's rage to only grow.

"See, Celestia," he shouted before slurping up a bit more of his chow-mane. "Isn't this so much better? No, come on, shout at me just like you used to!"

"Discord!"

“Oh, you better hurry. I’m getting to my main course.” Discord let the chow-mane fall from his paw and splat against Celestia’s face. He then drew out another take out box. He popped it open, and sniffed at as licking his lips. “Ah, liver and onion dumplings with a skunk spray glaze and a pinch of garlic. Not only will this make my breath flavorful, your horn is going to reek of it for a week. Unless, of course, you give me a good shout. Come on Celestia, let me hear you scream!”

"DISCORD!" the sun princess bellowed in the Royal Canterlot Voice.

"Ah, the nostalgia,” Discord mused as he took a dumpling up in the chopsticks. “Who says old times have to die.”

Perspective

The door to the bakery was open, and the smell of rising dough drifted out from behind it. Above its frame, a pink-painted sign announced its name to be, as it always had been and would be, Sugarcube Corner. She hadn’t bothered to change it, then. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what that meant.

In any case, there wasn’t any real surface to knock on, so he just sort of stood outside waiting for her to come out, so he wouldn’t have to make the decision to go in. And it was only a few seconds before she did, before she ducked out from behind the counter and stood in front of him silently, stoutly. In a different world, that alone might have meant something to him, but here in this one all he could think about was how much she hadn’t changed in all in the last six years. Her shoulder-length mane was still a fiery orange, her hooves were dusted with flour and still a bit on the small side, her eyes still reminded him of lightning at midnight. Her horn, glowing with sky-blue light, held a cookbook in midair by her side.

“Hey, Pumpkin,” he said.

“Pound,” she intoned. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

“Did you come here to apologize?” she finally asked.

“If I did, would it make a difference?” he asked in return. She didn’t seem to have an answer to that, so they went back to just staring at each other and thinking their own private thoughts.

“I just wanted to see you again. I just...” he started to say, but without the composure to be able to finish. “I wanted to come home.”

Home. What a magical, distant, stars-awful concept. There’d be a lot of good things about staying there: a warm bed, a few hot meals, a chance to meet the adorable little mare poking her head out from behind her momma’s leg, a niece he’d never even gotten to know the name of. But there’d also be a lot of waiting, a lot of staring out the window wondering when the breeze would come back in, when he’d step outside and know he only had a moment to say goodbye before it whisked him away again. A whole lifetime of it. Pumpkin would bake her cakes and Pumpkin would follow in their parents’ hoofsteps, but he would always be looking for a way out. He would always wake up in the early morning, gasping for one more second, one more adventure, one more drop of memory to throw into a sea of millions. And he would spend years reminding himself why he wasn’t getting another chance. Why he didn’t deserve one.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

“Are you going to stay?”

Well, that was the eternal question, wasn’t it? Are you going to stay, Pound Cake? Are you going to run away like a coward because you don’t think anyone wants you around? Or are you terrified of taking the risk, because you know all too well it can’t possibly last? Because you know that this is only a weekend stopover, that come Monday you’ll be back in Cloudsdale meeting with new clients and taking on new contracts, and keeping a running tab at a ground-level saloon because it’s the only way to forget that it’s been five-and-a-half years since you’ve sent a letter home, and three since she stopped sending them to you?

With a tiny sigh, Pumpkin lifted her hoof and pushed the door open a little further, and in that moment he finally made a decision. Come hell or high water, he would stay this time. He would tell her why he didn’t write, why he laid awake at night wondering how the bakery was doing, why his shame had kept him from doing something he ought to have done years ago. He’d torn his family apart to chase after a dream, and now he was back. Now he could start mending the wound that had never scabbed over.

Now the next time she asked him that, he could give her an answer.

A Chance Encounter on Route 66

"Rassafrassin' carburetor!"

The sun broke over the Sierra Neighvadas, reminding Wild Fire just how far she'd come from Los Pegasus, and how far was left till Las Neighgas. Her wrench slipped, landing on the gravel shoulder. As she retrieved it, she clipped the hood latch, which came down on her head.

"Stupid son of a piece of junk!" She kicked the front bumper of her souped-up red Camareo, sending the license plate clattering off onto the stones.

With a wordless cry of blind fury, she stomped around the car, kicking rocks into the distance and throwing everything she could get her hooves on. The land around her drank in the sun's rays, and her body succumbed to the temperature before her tantrum could burn itself out. Moaning, she sank to her haunches beside her car, and then to her knees.

"What am I gonna do?" She thought of beef jerky and despaired.

Her misery shattered at the sound of a horn approaching. Wild Fire's head shot up, her face animating.

"Another car!"

With a whoop, she sprang to the double yellow lines, waving at what seemed to be a fairly distant car. She squinted, unable to make out just what, exactly, was coming down the road. As the object neared, her face fell.

"It can't be!"

The other driver was not, in fact, driving a car. As details sharpened, there could be no doubt that this was actually a pony with wheels for hooves. Bright green and yellow mane stood out over a grey coat and feathers, and there was absolutely no mistaking the rainbow racing stripes curving up over her flanks.

"No, no, nononononono!" Wild Fire leapt into the air, darting for cover behind her Camareo, but it was too late. The sound of rubber chewing the pavement slowed to a stop and there came a familiar honking.

"Honk honk!"

Wild Fire groaned before poking her head up and glaring daggers at the wheeled pony. "Why did it have to be you?"

"Hoot beep beep! Honk vwoo?"

"Yes, I'm having engine trouble." Wild Fire gritted her teeth. "And no, it's not nice to see you."

"Whoop?"

"You used me!" Wild Fire's eyes nearly caught flame. "You betrayed me! I can't believe you'd have the gall to show your face—"

"Honk honk, beep beep, whomp!" The other pony wheeled around to the front of the car, looking under the hood. "Whoo, whoo, honk honk!"

"Don't wanna hear it, Wheely." Wild Fire crossed her hooves over her chest, ignoring her unwanted companion. "I don't need your help."

Wheels crunched on gravel, approaching her. She squeezed her eyes shut as a tire reached out and pressed gently against her foreleg.

"Hooonk."

One eye opened, and Wild Fire glared down at the other pony. Wheely Bopper looked up at her, face clear and apologetic.

"No!" Wild Fire snapped her eye shut. "I'd rather—"

Rather what? Rather die alone in the sweltering desert than accept help from a pony you thought was a friend? Images of racing over sand dunes and through muddy creeks together sprang to her mind. Wild Fire found it increasingly harder to hold her anger as she recalled high-fives after stunt races and evenings spent drinking milkshakes and giggling about stallions. There hadn't ever been anypony else she could connect with on that level, before or since. That's why their fallout hurt had so much.

Was all that worth throwing away? Wasn't Princess Celestia always harping about friendship and forgiveness during her radio fireside chats?

Wild Fire looked down at Wheely, her expression softening. The other mare smiled hopefully.

"Can I trust you?"

"Whoo!" Wheely spun about, presenting her back. She turned her head and grinned.

Wild Fire relaxed, stood, and clambered onto Wheely's back. "Okay. But this doesn't mean we're friends again, all right?"

"Honk!" Wheely nodded and took off, speeding toward Los Pegasus. The wind whipped through Wild Fire's mane and the road hummed beneath them, soothing her temper and her tired, overheated body.

"Honk honk, whoo!"

"Yeah. You said it."

Party

“Haaaaaaaaaaaaappy birthday, Gummy!”

Pinkie grabbed the tiny green gator with both her forelegs, holding him above her head and spinning. Gummy, as usual, was mute, but Pinkie’s smile paid him no mind as it shone brightly in the low light of her bedroom. The windows were covered by a thin curtain, tattered in places, letting only a hint of the morning light through.

“I hope you had a good sleep, because we’ve got a lot planned today. There’s gonna be cake and ice cream and dancing, and more presents than you’ll know what to do with!” Pinkie beamed upward at Gummy. Gummy, as usual, was mute.

“Come on!” Pinkie said, her voice bouncing off the walls. “Lets go downstairs and start the day.”

The stairs groaned as Pinkie dashed down them. The bannister in particular seemed to protest, wobbling and tossing flakes of its decaying wood into the air. Pinkie ignored it on her way down until she reached the final step, and a chunk of it broke off and splintered into her side as she leaned against it.

“Ow,” she said. She sucked her lip as she leaned to examine the damage. A sizable wooden spike jutted out of her dull, pink fur. Her hair hung over her eyes as she grabbed it with her hoof and wrenched it free.

“Ow,” she said again. Gummy, as usual, was mute.

“Come on, Gummy,” Pinkie said, walking from the stairs to the room she had set up. “Aren’t you excited? We’re gonna have an awesome party, just like we used to have! Just like... well, not like last year, that one was no fun... and not the year before, nopony decided to come, but they missed out, really, it was their loss...”

Pinkie’s voice became muttering as she walked past the doorway to her kitchen. The paint on the walls was mostly peeled away now. In one or two places on the wall, there were holes, about the size of a hoof.

A dark, deflated balloon hung from the kitchen ceiling. It sagged as Pinkie walked under it, casting one eye up beneath her bangs to look over its wrinkles. She blew a breath out of her nose and returned her eyes to the kitchen table.

There were familiar friends there for Gummy’s party. Madame LaFleur. Rocky. All the gang was there, just like old times.

Pinkie set Gummy in his special seat at the head of the table. She smiled at him, the edges of her mouth wiggling as they struggled to stay up. Gummy, as usual, was mute.

“Isn’t this great, Gummy?” Pinkie sat at the opposite end of the table. She reached forward to the plate she had laid out, chipped at the edges and, from the look of it, unwashed for months. The cake it held was an unappetizing, stale green.

Pinkie smiled across the table. Gummy, as usual, was mute, until his body shifted, slowly, from his slump against the chair to a full recline, and then a lazy roll sideways, off the chair, onto the floor where he landed with a loud thump.

Pinkie shot up in an instant. Her hooves picked the tiny gator up tenderly and cradled him against her chest.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her mouth turning to a frown. She held Gummy aloft and stared at him with wide, imploring eyes.

Gummy, as usual, was mute. A black hole stared back at Pinkie where one of his eyes had been. A worm wriggled slowly behind the other socket.

“You’re fine,” Pinkie said, and pulled Gummy close again.

The sun was removed from the kitchen as it had been upstairs, the windows shielded by dark, tattered curtains. Outside, the sun shone brightly, casting light over the whole of Pinkie’s house, crumbling at the edges, and broken elsewhere. The walls were marred by scratches and bricks thrown. The front-step was grown over with grass, untouched by visitors for years. Further away, the mailbox was stuffed with letters, filled to the brim and rusted shut by rain.

On the side of the house, somepony had written a single word in bright, pink, spray-paint, but it too had washed away in the rain.

Inside, Pinkie put Gummy back in his chair, and returned to her seat to take her first bite of cake.

It tasted the same as it had last year, and every year before for as long as she could remember. But at least she didn’t have to share it with anyone.

Over Milkshakes

Sugar Cube Corner had hardly changed. True, the rugs were a bit more threadbare and the lacquer on the tables was beginning to wear, but it still retained the same delightful atmosphere it always had. Or maybe that was just the aromas emanating from the kitchen.

Whatever it was, the pale, curly-maned mare stepping through the shop’s front door couldn’t help but salivate. However long it had been, the Cakes obviously hadn’t lost their baker’s touch.

“Welcome to Sugar Cube Corner!” A perky unicorn filly called from behind the counter. “What can I do for you?”

The mare smiled, making a show of examining the menu. “Let’s see… How about a milkshake?”

“Sure!” The filly’s fiery mane lit up along with her grin. “What flavor?”

“Vanilla, please.”

“You got it! One ‘Old-Fashioned’ coming right up!”

“Actually, why don’t you add a bit of ginger, with some lemon zest and extra cream?”

The filly halted her gathering of ingredients, her blue eyes narrowing in confusion. “Huh?”

“A bit of ginger, some lemon zest, and extra cream, please.”

This time, the filly’s eyes went wide in recognition. “Sweetie Belle?”

The mare giggle squeakily. “Good to see you too, Pumpkin.”

“Oh my gosh!” She leapt into the air. “I didn’t even recognize you! What brings you back to Ponyville?”

A flash of something flickered across Sweetie Belle’s face before she grinned wider. “Well, you know, my tours take me all sorts of places. I figured it couldn’t hurt to drop in.”

“I’m glad you did! It’s been completely boring here since the lunch rush. Anyway, I’ll have your milkshake right up!”

With an exchange of thanks and a flurry of milk, ice cream, and spices, Pumpkin Cake leapt to her task, leaving Sweetie Belle alone for the moment.

Alone, save for her thoughts. The rugs were more threadbare, and the lacquer was wearing, but Sugar Cube Corner was still the same merry place it always had been. For some reason, that made her feel melancholy.

The door opened behind her, its characteristic bell chiming straight through her scattered thoughts. In walked a pair of ponies, both talking loudly.

“Ah told ya, there’s no way somethin’ like that would fly!”

“I’m not talking about using an entire tree, just some branches for the frame!”

“And I’m tellin’ you, even if you used paper for the wings, it’d still be too heavy to get off the ground.”

“Nah, you’d just need to get it going fast enough. Use some horsepower!”

“And do ya really think that…”

Their conversation cut off abruptly upon noticing Sweetie Belle. It is, after all, difficult to speak with one’s jaw on the floor. She broke the silence with a tentative smile and greeting.

“Hey, Apple Bloom. Scootaloo.”

“Sweetie Belle!” The two ponies cried in stereo.

After an exchange of joyous hugging, plus the ordering of two additional milkshakes, the trio took to a table and did what any old friends will upon being reunited: they began chatting to no end.

“So, how’s Manehatten been treatin’ ya?” Apple Bloom said in between slurps of her strawberry beverage.

Sweetie Belle looked away. “It’s been… good.”

“You’ve been making lots of bits in show business?” Scootaloo asked with a glint in her eye.

“I’ve…” Sweetie Belle sighed heavily. “Well, to tell the truth, girls, I’ve… been having trouble.”

Concern knit Apple Bloom’s brow. “What do you mean, trouble?”

“Yeah, your last letter said you’d gotten a nice new gig!”

Sweetie Belle bit her lip turning away. “I… thought I did. But, they gave the part to somepony else.”

A long silence hung between them before Apple Bloom spoke.

“Well, so what?”

Sweetie Belle looked up.

“Yeah,” Scootaloo said, “You just need to recharge, then you can get right back on track.”

“I’m not sure it’s that simple.”

“That’s why ya have us! So we can tell you you’re wrong!”

“Trust us, Sweetie, take a few days off from everything and you’ll be right back in the swing of things.”

Sweetie Belle sat back, looking between the two of them. Maybe a few days with her old friends was exactly what she needed.

“You know, I just realized we never said a toast.”

“You’re right.” Apple Bloom said. “What should we say?”

“How about, just for old times’ sake…” Sweetie Belle grinned.

Smiles spread over her friends’ faces. Without rehearsal, and in perfect unison, the trio raised their glasses and cheered.

“Cutie Mark Crusader Best Friends Forever!”

Trixie's Revenge

"The Great and Powerful Trixie shall not be defeated by a mere tool! The Great and Powerful Trixie is the one that shall have the last laugh!" She let out a cackle. "The Great and Powerful Trixie shall have her revenge!"

She cantered up and down through the town until she finally spotted her rival. She'd remember that look anywhere. It had been burned into her brain. The mocking look of superiority, always taunting her for her failures. Never again.

"Aha! Found you! You can't escape the wrath of the Great and Powerful Trixie! Prepare to duel!" Trixie stood firm on her four hooves and mustered up a gigantic magical blast. After charging for a few seconds, she unleashed it upon her target. It flew through the air and struck true, covering her opponent in a glow. It shone brighter and brighter until it exploded in a burst of light and sparkles.

"You'll rue the day you crossed the Great and Powerful Trixie!" she shouted. She shook a hoof in the air. "Oh yes. I shall make you rue it indeed!"

She spread her hooves again and pointed her horn towards her rival. "Atatatatatatat!" Magical balls exploded forth like a gatling gun, striking her target repeatedly. "Take that, and that, and that!"

Trixie kept going until all of her energy reserves disappeared. Panting and sweating profusely, she sank to her haunches. She wiped away her brow, and watched as the figurative dust settled. All she could see were blurs, because she had forgotten to close her eyes but she didn't care. Finally, she thought. She would have revenge on the one that had wronged her on that fateful day so many years ago.

She couldn't help as a laugh escaped her lips. "Not so special now, are you? Of course, it was expected that the Great and Powerful Trixie would defeat you." She pointed a hoof threateningly at her. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

She waited a few seconds, but there was no reply. "Ha! Speechless? Basking in the glorious victory of Trixie I see." She turned around, pumped her hoof into the air, and shook her hindquarters in victory.

Gradually, the blurry spots in her vision disappeared. Trixie grinned in spite of herself. At the last second, she turned back around. Just as quickly, her smile disappeared.

"What? No! That... that can't be!" She backed away, and stumbled on her hooves. "That's not possible?" She looked at her rival who stood in plain sight, completely unharmed and didn't even have any scuff marks.

Trixie chuckled inwardly at herself. She had thought she was powerful enough to take revenge, but it was a lie. Of course it was. It always was. Every year, she would challenge her rival and every year, it was the same outcome. But still, she couldn't give up. One day, the Great and Powerful Trixie would have her revenge.

“Don’t... don’t think you’ve won! The Great and Powerful Trixie shall have the last laugh!” She spun on her heel and left town the way she came. Her cape flapped in the wind and she tried not to let anypony see her face. Someday Trixie, just be patient. Your time will come.

No matter what she did, she couldn’t stem the burning rage that built inside her heart. Humiliated, embarrassed, beaten. A torrent of emotions with naught to stem the tide. She looked back at her rival, back towards the center of Ponyville. Her face creased. You! You did this to Trixie! One day, you'll pay for your insolence!

Sitting there was a single wheel, still in one piece.

Old Friends

The flag was up on the mailbox.

Twilight tilted her head to the side as she opened it. Her hoof found a soft length of paper.

A letter. What else had she expected.

She recognized the spiky, unpracticed hand-writing on the front of the envelope. In spite of herself, her hoof shook as she opened the letter. She read it without bothering to bring it inside.

As her eyes scanned over the paper, a soft drop of rain fell from the sky and landed on the ground. A grey cloud grew larger overhead, covering most of the sky.

Tonight. Twilight put the letter back in its envelope and walked back inside quicker than she had walked out.

She had to go. It wasn’t as though she couldn’t make time for an old friend.

Twilight laughed hard and threw her head back. A bit of her drink spilled out of its glass onto the restaurant’s fine, velvet tablecloth. Around her, other patrons glowered at her past their tapered candles and fancy meals, but Twilight ignored them.

Rainbow Dash did the same, though her chuckling was more restrained. Her voice sparkled as she went on.

“‘Wheat Worms’? How did she even come up with that?”

A flash of grub-filled cupcakes danced across Twilight’s memory, and she spilled more wine onto herself. But she didn’t care. It felt good to laugh.

She set her glass back down onto the table and wiped a joyful tear from her eye. Rainbow Dash smiled at her from across the table.

“It’s so good to catch up, Rainbow Dash. I really have missed you.”

“Same,” Dash said. Her mane was still the vibrant combination of colours it had always been, even if it stood out all the more brightly against the greying blue of her coat. She still moved with the practiced coordination of an expert flyer, but her posture was steadier now. Her actions were slower. When she reached for her glass, she missed it the first time, and squinted hard at the translucent crystal as she grabbed it on her second try.

Twilight, watching from across the table, took another sip of her drink.

“So,” Twilight said, lowering her glass. “Is there any reason you decided to ask me to dinner on such short notice?”

Rainbow Dash grinned.

“Nah, not really. Just felt like saying hi, you know? I know you’re busy these days with your princess stuff, but I thought you might have time to say ‘hi’ to an old friend...”

Twilight reached a hoof across the table, which Dash met after a second of hesitation.

“Of course I do, Dash. I’m always happy to make the time for you, or any of my friends. I’ve missed all of you.”

Dash pressed her hoof hard into Twilight’s. Twilight pressed back. Dash’s coat felt wrinkled under her touch.

The pair shared a smile for a moment. After a few seconds, Dash looked away. The bustle of the restaurant in the background seemed to flow around the table, surrounding it in a bubble.

Dash’s smile was gone when she turned back.

“I, uh,” she said. She stopped and looked down at the table.

Twilight leaned closer and pressed harder with her hoof.

“They, uh... the doctor, anyway. He said I’ve got... it’s like... a lump.”

Somewhere at a table behind them, a pony set their fork down with a clink against their plate.

“They can’t operate or anything, so uh... they dunno. It might get better, maybe.”

Twilight drew in a deep breath and pressed down harder with her hoof. Dash’s foreleg went limp.

Twilight’s chair flew back as she rose. With a flap of her wings, she was around the table, and her forelegs found Dash and wrapped around her instantly. Twilight shut her eyes as she hugged hard. Dash stayed in her seat, staring forward with a meek smile on her face. Her eyes glinted in the light of a nearby candle-flame.

“I’m scared,” she said quietly.

The warmth of Twilight’s body against Dash’s felt like a blanket. Dash closed her eyes and rested her head against Twilight’s shoulder.

“That means it’s going to be okay,” Twilight said, whispering into Dash’s ear.

Outside, overhead, the grey cloud that had been threatening a storm all day dissipated so fast it almost seemed to disappear. Though a sheen of sky-blanket remained, the rain vanished, and for the first time that day, allowed a tiny ray of sun to peek through and reach the ground.

The Battle of Checkerboard Field

“C’mon, Octy.”

“No!”

“But we haven’t done it since we were foals.”

“I said no, Vinyl.”

Vinyl Scratched gazed down at the box in her magical grasp, pouting. “Please, just one game of chess.”

“Fine!” Octavia rolled her eyes.

With a smile of victory upon her face, Vinyl set up the game. She was white, and Octavia was black.

The game started off with their small army of pawns traveling to the center of the board, one at a time. Then one of Vinyl’s them struck down another pawn. It hopped up and down on its little checkerboard square in celebration, before Octavia sent one of her pawns to take revenge for her fallen comrade. Back and forth they went, mercilessly slaughtering each other until they were each left with only half a pawn army, and no way for them to turn back.

One of Vinyl’s moved into position to attack Octavia’s king. A fatal error as His Highness took him out with only a step.

Vinyl chuckled; the ruler of the dark kingdom had stepped outside the boundaries of his castle and out into the open, where he would be easier to strike. The light bishop moved from the right side of the board to the center of the battlefield.

Octavia’s lips curled into a smirk as the left side of her castle rose from the ground and soared through the air to a spot where it could crush Vinyl’s foolish bishop on the next turn. The mere instant the rook planted down onto the board again, the bishop of light dashed across the field. He impaled the dark knight in the chest. The servant of the dark overlord fell to her knees, shouting quotations from a more famous dark knight as she died.

A pawn took a step forwards in preparation to attack the murderous bishop. But it was clear that her move was made in grief as the bishop of light found it all too easy to slay the foolish pawn. Octavia’s leftside castle moved once again to attack. Then the bishop of light took another step. Octavia soon found her queen lying on her back, breathing her dying breath. She face-hooved; how could she forget about the queen?

“Check,” Vinyl said, smirking.

Octavia grumbled and moved her king to safety.

Vinyl raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Are you sure that’s where you want to move?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Octavia snapped.

“Okay...”

The game went on with each of them shifting their units around the board, Vinyl attempting to capture the dark ruler, and Octavia trying to keep that from happening.

Then Vinyl started cackling. Octavia looked down at the board to see all of the remaining pawns of light a mere step from the worlds edge, and obtaining royal status. She quickly sent her rook to take out the first pawn, then another as the remaining three stepped onto the edge. An orb of shimmering light flew from each upon taking the step of fate, answering their call of destiny. The mystical balls swirled around them, lifting the pawns in the air, before setting each back down with a brand new pair of wings. All the while, the Ballad of Princess Celestia played.

Quickly, Octavia sent her remaining pieces after the over-powered pawns. The light queen army shifted around the board, dodging every attack Octavia threw at them. The black knight’s sister slashed through one of their necks, causing the impatient ruler’s demise.

The other two queens stood around the dark king. He was safe for the moment, but couldn’t move for fear of death’s cold grip. The black knight took position to rescue him.

But in an instant, he was struck down by the original queen of light. The kingdom of light’s ruler stood over the corpse of her fallen enemy and looked to the sky. She gazed up at the face of the red-eyed goddess whom she worshiped, who in turn smiled down at her.

“Checkmate.”

“What?!” Octavia looked down at the board, gawking. Vinyl’s three queens surrounded her king, the third poised to strike next turn. None of her pieces could reach them from where they stood.

“Thanks for the game, Octy,” Vinyl said, standing. “It’s was a blast.”

“Hold it right there Vinyl!”

Vinyl turned back to look at Octavia.

“I’m just a little rusty. Give me another chance!”

“All right, then.” Grinning like the victor that she was, Vinyl Scratch set up the chess board once again.

Guiding Light

Inside Canterlot Castle, in one of the castles parlor's, there sat a lone white mare watching the moon. One who at least once saw that mare would notice that her face, always adorned with a smile, is expressionless and the eyes, always shining with a youthful gleam, were dull and clouded. Heaving a sigh she turned away from the window to take a look at the clock.

Every second that passed felt like eternity, every breath she took felt heavy and she felt like she will throw up any second now. She should have been in Ponyville by now, reversing her speech for the Summer Sun Celebration and checking on her student.

The though about her student, her faithful student, brought a smile upon her face. Even if that happiness was soon replaced by doubts and fear. She started thinking about all the things she should have taught Twilight, all the times she tried to gently nudge her to leave the dusty books behind and enjoy herself with her fellow classmates. Of course Twilight would have none of it, rather dedicating her free time to studying, be it alone or with her.

That dedication was a bit worrisome in some cases, like when a maid once found a shrine dedicated to the princess of the sun in the wardrobe of the young mare...

The room of Twilight Sparkle was simple, a bed, several bookshelf's on one side of the room, a desk with quills and ink. The wardrobe on the other hoof couldn't be called simple, better said what was inside could not be called simple. A nightstand that was meant to be next to her bed held a picture of the smiling princess, a precise figurine made out of wax was to the right of it. It included the mane and tail, held great detail and could easily be mistaken for a well made doll. At the foot of the picture was a small plate that was probably meant for "sacrifices", crumbles and liquid stains were visible.

She remembered reading a report from the librarians noting that Twilight borrowed a book that was unrelated to her current studies, that in itself was not something strange, but the book was about old equestian religion and costumes. Now the princess finally knew why she borrowed that book. A squeak caught her attention and she smiled. Quickly she lit her horn and a slam could be heard. Putting on a serious face and masterfully containing her amusement she turned.

"Young lady, we have a lot to discuss..."

Thinking about Twilight's reaction brought a new smile on the princesses face, it was simply priceless, but before she could fall on all four and beg the princess not to banish her Celestia ended the little fun. That night they had a heart to heart, the result of it being a promise made. Twilight Sparkle promised to wait and see if her love was true or just a phase in her young life. Celestia promised to allow Twilight to court her, under the condition that Twilight proves her worth first. Twilight was made aware that the Equestrian Nobility and traditions would be an great obstacle in her path. But both believed that true love always find a way.

Although the memory of that event ended a smile persisted on the princesses lips now. She took another look at the moon, and her smile almost faltered when the moons surface was blank.

"Now is your chance." she thought as she closer her weary eyes for a moment.

But when she opened them again, there was only complete darkness surrounding her. The last thing she heard before she closer her eyes for what could be the last time was distant laughter...

Pareidoilia, or the Importance of Crochet

Just look at this doily, would you? Rarity would be proud of it, I think, and proud of me for having finished it. Times past, I never could sit still enough for art, but these days I haven't got the pep or the spirit for doing much of anything. Pronking is no fun with arthritis, and traveling is no fun without pronking. So here I sit with my crochet to keep my mind and hooves busy until my grandchildren decide to visit.

Why thank you, dear. Believe it or not, it took me five whole doilies to get this good. Applejack's was first, just these circles that look like her cutie mark if you squint. I don't know that she would have approved of making something so fancy to represent her, but then she didn't live long enough to lose that youthful fire. It's what I admired about her, you know. They're apples, dear. Her cutie mark was apples. So were her pies. Oh, I miss those pies!

Yes, well, practice makes perfect. For instance, putting the butterflies into dear Fluttershy's doily was almost easy once I knew what I was doing. Lace really suits her, you know, soft and pliable but still warm and comforting to touch, and she loved doilies. Had them all over her cottage and had to keep making more when her animals ate them. Trust me, you don't want to see what happens when a rabbit gets a tummyful of yarn. Yes, it's just as icky as you're thinking.

Now look at this. See the itty-bitty stars there? That's Twilight's. I got brave enough after Fluttershy's to start doing straight lines, and it came out almost perfect. She'd have appreciated the symmetry, I think. Twilight did like mathematical things. And just like her magic and her friendship letters, I got inspired by my success with making her star, so I tried the irregular pattern next.

Can you believe your Granny got mad at a doily? I mean, really now, it's such a silly-filly thing to do, especially at my age. But as many times as I had to stop and start over with a whole new pattern in mind, is it any wonder I got so frustrated?

Wonder. Wonderbolt. A bolt of lightning for the best of the Wonderbolts, for my poor, sweet Dashie. She could frustrate sometimes, yes, but she really was the best of us. That's why she had to go first. The world can't handle that much awesomeness, not without spreading it over the clouds like jam for everypony to share.

I'm sorry, where was I?

Oh yes, Rarity. You see, your Great-Great-Great-Granny Pie tried so hard to teach me crochet when I was your age, but I always thought it was boring. So of course when I started doing it myself, I had to make something worth noticing. Cutie marks are nice and all, but I wanted to capture her likeness in lace loops. Lace loop likeness, do you like that? I wanted to do it for all of them, but for Rarity, nothing less would suffice. That's how she talked.

What do you think? Really looks like her, doesn't it? Take a look at this picture, she's there with the rest of us. I think I really got the curl in her mane, don't you? She did always fuss over those curls, even after she'd gone gray.

Now I'm thinking I'll start over and do another for each of them, with their faces. Maybe even something a little more metaphorical, what do you think? That way, I'll have something to remember them by that I can hold in my hooves, not just pictures or memories. I can line them up here on the mantel so they don't get lonely, or maybe act out little plays with them.

But you didn't come here to watch your grandmother get all saddy-waddy about doilies, now did you, Persimmon? What's that? The pegasi at school are still bullying you? Yes, that's awful! I think I know just the thing, if you feel like risking some trouble, that is.

That's my girl! Now you take the one with Rainbow Dash's cutie mark, and I'll take Applejack's, and we'll make a little play right now while I tell you the story of the Mirror Pool. It was a lovely summer day and I had wanted to go swimming with Rainbow Dash, but Applejack was having a barn raising at the same time...

Worth It.

It’s a hot day and I hate my cat.

I have been sprawled out on the floor for the past half hour, that’s how hot it is. The whole time I’ve been glaring at Opal as she sat in front of the fan—the only fan. The smug look she’s giving me makes me boil inside. I won’t try fighting her, though, not with Rarity working nearby.

I want to be out with the crusaders. I want to be out adventuring, exploring, drinking lemonade in the clubhouse over at Apple Bloom’s with her and Scootaloo. Instead, Apple Bloom is spending the day with her sister, and coincidentally, so am I. Except whereas Apple Bloom and her sister are probably doing fun things together, I’m stuck watching my sister work.

And watching that fat cat, hogging all the cool air. I hated everything about that cat, from its too-fluffed fur to its stupid purple bow sitting on its stupid ugly head. I remember when Rarity first brought it home. She let me hold it, and it clawed legs and made me cry.

Rarity glances at the clock and sighs. “Sweetie Belle,” she said. “I’m sorry, but I’m terribly busy. Do you think you could go be a sweetheart and water my petunias?”

I groan, getting up. I stomp my way to the door, to make sure my displeasure is known. Hot as it is inside, it’s even hotter out there. On my way to the door I glance back at Opalescence. The haughty, puffed-up pile of fur is smirking at me, and it takes all my will to not walk back over there and kick it in the head. I slam the door shut behind me.

As I turn the water on and place the hose between my teeth, I think about how unfair life is.

I wet the petunias, the water sprinkling from the multi-headed attachment on the hose’s nozzle. The hose tastes like dirt. Beads of sweat trickle down the sides of my face, and staring at the hose, I decide to point it up in the air, letting the water rain down and cool me off.

But then, as I shower myself with the hose while staring at its multi-headed attachment, I acquire an awful, wonderful idea.

Dripping wet, I sneak up to one of my house’s windows. Opal is napping in front of the fan, completely unaware of the scheme I’m in the process of hatching.

I dutifully water the rest of the petunias, before creeping up to the boutique’s door. Peering in through a nearby window, I take note of where my target is. I switch the valve on the nozzle off, and then change its setting it to ‘jet’ . Anticipation wells up in my chest as I crouch in front of the door.

I burst inside.

Opal jumps, and Rarity turns to look at me. “Sweetie, what—”

With a grin, I point the hose at Opal and flip the valve on. During a split second, as the built up pressure releases with a hiss, Opal’s eyes grow wide with fear.

“MROWR!” Opal screeches, the jet of water blasting her directly in the side and sending her tumbling across the carpet, frantically clawing the air, looking for a hold in the carpet. Once she gets it, she gives me the most horrified look, and then sprints off into another room, leaving a wet trail across the carpet.

“Sweetie Belle! What on earth are you doing?!”

I flinch, standing there, dripping water on the carpet. “Umm...” There isn’t really any reasonable explanation for my actions. “I dunno,” I say innocently with a shrug.

Rarity seethed. I still can’t wipe the grin off my face, which probably doesn’t help me at all. As Rarity chastises me for mistreating Opal and getting water all over the carpet, I nod my head at the appropriate times. All the while, I can’t help but think that today turned out to be a pretty good day.

Rusty in the Giddyup

"My dear, I..."

Persnickety gazed through his monocle across the table into her sparkling eyes. They matched the orange bandanna she wore around her neck, and shone with wisdom beyond their years. The sight of her pristine green coat and flowing white mane beckoned words from his lips.

"We have spent so little time together, yet I feel I must let my heart speak." He reached out one well-manicured hoof and grasped hers, eliciting a giggle from the mare he had shared a gourmet meal with not half an hour ago.

"It was your radiant beauty which drew me to you, but I have since come to understand your true beauty... within."

"Ee-hee-hee!" the mare giggled, batting her eyelashes. "Why Persy, you know just how to charm a lady."

Her voice was not the most pleasant, slightly raspy around the edges, but he had surmised that she'd smoked in her youth. Surely, they were none of them perfect, and she had obviously quit, judging by her pristine white teeth and the pleasant aroma of lavender and lime that emanated from her.

"And such a lady you are." He drew forward, voice growing husky with fervor. "Your wit, your humility, your country charm... I had thought Ponyville a town devoid of beauty, yet I see now how utterly foolish I have been.

"I may be more foolish yet to ask this after such a brief acquaintance, yet I feel I have no choice." He sank to one knee, still holding her hoof, and gazed into her eyes. "I would be the happiest stallion in Equestria if you would consent to be my bride."

"Yee-hee-hee!" his companion cheered, wrenching her hoof free and standing on her chair, whereupon she performed a sprightly jig. "I still got it! I still got it!"

"Granny, there you are!"

The voice made Persnickety turn, to see an orange mare and a large red earth stallion running toward him. The mare tipped up her leather Stetson and nodded to him.

"Dreadful sorry, Mister, if she's been botherin' ya any. She got away from us after the spa treatment and we been lookin' for her all day."

Face a picture of abject confusion, Persnickety looked from the strange new mare to the one dancing on the tabletop, feeling a strange numbness overtake him.

"Granny? But she cannot be older than I!"

Just then, "Granny" slipped from the table, landing with a crash beneath the tablecloth, still chuckling to herself. The earth stallion rushed forward and helped her up. She shook her head to clear it, and in doing so, her perfectly smooth features unsettled, melting grotesquely into layer after layer of thick wrinkles over her face.

"Aw, fiddle-faddle! There goes mah facial!" The wrinkled old mare pouted, then grinned and began advancing toward him. "Nevermind! C'mere, Persy and give us a smooch!"

In the history of emasculating screams heard in Ponyville, Persnickety's was second only to that let out by Caramel, after a mishap at Fluttershy's cottage had launched a trio of shaken and traumatized mice into his bedroom. The beefy aristocrat's eyes rolled back in his head and he fainted dead away.

Granny Smith frowned and stuck out her tongue. "That's the problem with stallions these days: no fortitude!"

"Granny, please, let's just go," Applejack said as Big Macintosh got behind her and began to push. "It was plum nice of Rarity to get you them spa tickets for your birthday, but next time would ya kindly let the gentlepony know what he's getting' inta before he proposes?"

"Ahh, yer just jealous!" Granny huffed but allowed herself to be pushed towards Sweet Apple Acres. Then she started chortling.

"Next time, I'll let 'im know what he's getting' inta all right! Ah-hee-hee! Ah-hee-hee-hee!"

Applejack and Big Mac's faces registered equal levels of shock and disgust, and they shouted in unison.

"Augh, Granny!"

Point of View

It felt strange, Pumpkin thought, having another body in the kitchen with her. It reminded her of when her parents had still been around, when they had taught her how to hold a whisk right and how to invite the heat into a croissant. It reminded her of when it had been like this before, when she’d been able to turn around and see him standing there with that cheeky grin, up to his elbows in batter without a clue in the world of what to do with it next.

“She looks happy,” said the stallion on the other side of the room. He wasn’t covered in any batter now. He’d offered to help, but she’d told him was fine on her own.

Pumpkin let the spoon she was stirring with fall gently back into the bowl, and followed his gaze all the way over to her daughter. Vanilla was six now, ready to start school in the fall. She loved sitting on the counter while she was baking, hoping to catch a morsel from each batch out of the oven. How like him, she always thought.

“She in school yet?” he asked next. Of course he wouldn’t know. A few years ago, she might’ve excused him for that. He’d been away for a while. They’d parted on quite agreeable terms. He promised that next month he’d have time to reply to a letter or two.

“Next fall,” she replied. “How’s the job in Canterlot going?”

“Awesome. You wouldn’t believe how much of Equestria still hasn’t been properly surveyed. Even the settled areas need a few guys to fly around and figure out where they can afford to put a house down.”

Pumpkin lit her horn, and the spoon lifted up and began rotating again. “I suppose you travel a lot, then.”

“Too much,” he answered quickly. “You lose track of things out there. Of what’s really important.”

Like your family, Pumpkin thought. Like your own flesh and blood. Like anything that isn’t bright and free and beautiful enough for you to allow it into your perfect, free life.

“Oh?” she said, pulling the spoon out and tasting the mix. Too sweet. Needed more body to it.

“Yeah,” he said. A patch of warmth spread over Pumpkin’s shoulder; he’d placed his hoof there delicately, as if he were afraid he’d break her if he moved towards her too fast. “And I did. I got lost and I screwed up a lot of things, and I... I want to start making it up to you. Right now. This whole weekend, it’s just you and me and Vanilla. We’ll go to the park, we’ll goof off, we’ll remember how good things used to be, and I’ll be there for it. Okay? Can you... I mean, do you want me to do that? Are you okay with that?”

Oh, what a question to ask now. Am I okay with that? Well, he’d never apologized. He felt bad about everything, apparently, but he’d never said he was sorry about leaving them behind without so much as a postcard for six years. And yet, she couldn’t help but smile, couldn’t help but feel the weight in her chest lift up a little bit. How like him, she thought. Clumsy, clueless, but still trying. Still absolutely sure everything’s going to work out in the end.

His optimism was infectious. It always had been. And now, for some incomprehensible reason, she felt a little bit of it work its way back into her heart again. Maybe this time he would be there. Maybe this time he would stay.

“Sure,” she said, and his grin was all it took to convince her she’d been right. He hadn’t fixed anything by saying what he’d said, but he was trying. And for now, for this one weekend, maybe that could be enough.

The Ocean and the Clouds

Derpy stood overlooking the ocean. Under her hooves, the sturdiness of the coastal bluffs kept her in place, reassuring her with the crunch of rocks beneath each hoofstep.

Ahead, the ocean stretched as far as she could see. Further than that, even. Was there a word for further than she could see? Forever?

The seafoam sparkled as it burbled against the base of the cliff far below. The waves were strong, and loud, but they were down there, and Derpy was up here. She wasn’t scared.

She remembered the storm.

It was a grey day. She looked like the clouds. Her mom said that. Said.

The clouds were angry. Derpy could tell because they hissed when her mom flew over them. Derpy didn’t fly over them because she couldn’t fly. Her mom flew, and carried her. It felt safe, but not during the storm.

She remembered the last hiss, so loud, and the crack, and the sha-thump, and then the cloud was very angry and Derpy’s whole self hurt and then her mom let go and the cloud was too mad to hold her so she fell.

Even though it hurt, she opened her eyes. The whole ground was a cloud that was moving, except bigger, and getting closer and bigger and still hurting and then it caught her. it wasn’t a cloud because it was too dark, and Derpy didn’t bounce. She fell. It was cold and wet.

She thought she would fall forever, and after a while she opened her mouth but found out the water was bad for breathing and then she got really scared – but it was okay because her mom found her and pulled her up and she could breathe without hurting.

Her mom had trouble swimming. She splashed a lot and had to hold Derpy up and the cloud got worse and turned to a big rain really fast, and then into wind, and then Derpy couldn’t see anything but grey and cloud and her mom and sometimes more water.

After a while Derpy was really tired and had a hard time staying up, and her mom was splashing even more and kept saying things but Derpy couldn’t hear them because the storm was too loud and there was more and more water.

Derpy’s mom looked really sad when she went underneath the water. Derpy was sad too, and she went under the water also and because she couldn’t stay up and it was dark and far and scary and she couldn’t see or breathe and where did her mom go and she thought she would close her eyes and never wake up.

But something pulled her up. It felt like a big poofy ball underneath her, so light that Derpy was floating, and she shot up and there was the sky and the clouds were going away and Derpy didn’t have to hold herself up when something else was. So she floated for a long time until she got splashed onto a beach and laid down and rested because she was so tired, and when she woke up there were two ponies there who picked her up and took her somewhere and gave her ice cream and said look, and when she looked her side had bubbles on it and they had stayed there after that.

Derpy opened her eyes.

The crackle of the skyline greeted her every year, but it wasn’t enough to keep her away. She came anyway, for her.

On the horizon, the clouds of a thousand storms brewed. But they were there, and she was here. Derpy kept her stare to the distance as she held up the flower she had brought with her. Red, with a grey wrap, like a cloud, and foil that crinkled like lightning when you touched it.

Derpy closed her eyes and let go of the flower. It fell gently until it reached the dark, turning surface of the ocean, where it was swallowed instantly, the bright petals disappearing beneath the waves.

Derpy remembered.

After a few minutes of remembering, she opened her eyes and flew up and away into the clouds. They were grey, just like her.

Remember?

The halls of Canterlot Castle were quiet, save the hoofsteps of a single mare. Her hooves clicked briskly on the stone floor until she reached the largest door in the hall, plated with ornate decorations and fanciful designs. Steadying the metal tray she had brought with her on her left foreleg, she raised her right and knocked.

“Come in,” Celestia’s voice called from inside the room.

Twilight stepped inside carefully. The tray rattled slightly on her foreleg as she balanced it while opening the door.

“Good morning, Twilight,” Celestia said. “How are you doing this morning?”

Celestia’s voice was bright, but faded at the edges, like a flower that had been left to wilt in the sun. Her cheerful smile was dulled by the bags under her eyes, and her mane glimmered weakly as she leaned against the headboard of her bed.

“I’m doing well, Princess,” Twilight said. She gave her wings a soft flap as she lowered the tray onto Celestia’s bedside table. “How are you doing?”

Celestia held a hoof to her mouth.

“I... I think I’m doing well.” She paused. “Am I doing well, Twilight?”

“You’re doing wonderfully,” Twilight said with a smile. She lifted a bowl of cereal from the tray and handed it to Celestia, who took it graciously. Celestia’s horn glowed as she raised the spoon from the bowl to her mouth.

A rustling noise came from the side of the bed as Twilight unfurled a lengthy looking document.

“You’re scheduled to give direction on the Griffon Treaty this afternoon,” Twilight read.

Celestia chewed her mouthful of cereal slowly and dabbed her mouth with her hoof before speaking.

“Am I?”

Twilight nodded.

“What am I meant to direct, again?”

“You’ll give order that the treaty be sustained with an additional tariff, the terms of which have been outlined in this document.” Twilight tossed a scroll onto Celestia’s bed. Celestia picked it up and began to read, but furrowed her brow and set the parchment down after a few seconds.

“My eyes aren’t what they used to be... is it a sound proposal?”

“Very sound,” Twilight said. “Mostly a request for precious metals. A minor clause for large-scale property annex, but only in the event of suggested uprising.”

“That sounds...” Celestia began, but tapered off, narrowing her eyes again. “How do I think that sounds, Twilight?”

“You think that sounds great,” Twilight said, picking up the parchment from Celestia’s bed. “You’ve also arranged to reenact the Mandatory Equestrian Service Act, as well as the Compulsory National Diurnal Tithing, both of which you feel are necessities in this time of potential strife.”

“What did Luna think about all of this?”

“She agreed it was an excellent idea,” Twilight said. She coughed quietly into her hoof.

Celestia nodded and swallowed another bite of her cereal. It had already begun to melt into mush.

“Thank you, Twilight.”

Twilight nodded and rerolled her scroll, tucking it under her foreleg.

“That’s all for this morning, Princess. I’ll leave you to your breakfast.”

“Twilight,” Celestia called. She held her hoof up towards Twilight, who had stopped, halfway to the door. Twilight turned her head with an eyebrow raised, but remained silent.

“Twilight,” Celestia repeated. “Do you think, tomorrow, I might be able to remember for myself?”

Twilight turned properly towards Celestia’s bed, where the princess had set down her spoon. Her mane hung limply against her neck.

From the window on the far side of the room, a beam of weary sunlight shone through the glass. Twilight looked towards it. Through the thick panes and bars, she could hear the quiet scrape of guards in armor marching to their morning positions. Somepony shouting from the street, followed quickly by silence.

Twilight shook her head.

“No, Princess. Not tomorrow, I don’t think.”

Celestia nodded slowly, still smiling. Twilight smiled back.

“Thank you, Twilight.” Celestia levitated her cereal bowl back to its tray with a soft clatter.

Twilight nodded.

“Of course, Princess. See you shortly.”

Twilight waited a moment before opening the door and walking out of the room, letting the door close behind her with a click.

Through the solid walls of the castle, she heard another shout, followed by the clang of steel on stone.

Her hooves clicked on the hallway floor as she walked towards the council room where the future of Equestrian History was decided, one precarious meeting at a time.

Tomorrow, she would remember for Celestia that she had done a good job.

Evening with Sweetie Belle

Magnum looked both ways before tiphoofing across the yard. He listened for any signs of movement, but heard nothing. Quickly yet quietly, he opened the front door of the house.

“Dad. Dad! Hey! Dad! Hello!” Sweetie Belle had pounced on him almost immediately after he opened the door.

“Hehe. Hey Sweetie.” Magnum put down his suitcase and bent down to hug his daughter who was wrapped around his leg. Excitable as always, huh? He squeezed her for a few seconds before he asked, “Did you have a good day?”

“Yes! I played with my friends and we tried to get our cutie marks and we went skydiving and herded sheep and became shopkeepers and...”

Magnum chuckled as he put away his coat. “So you had lots of fun then?”

“Yup!” Sweetie Belle beamed at him. “How about you?”

Magnum didn’t want to think about it. His boss had given him an unrealistic deadline while demanding more than his team could provide. But if he spoke up, Magnum was afraid he’d get fired. “Rough. But it’s all better now cause I’m here with you.” Magnum kissed her on the cheek and smiled back. Sweetie Belle giggled. “So what’s for dinner? Did your mom say?”

“Daffodil sandwiches!” Sweetie Belle bounced up and down around her father as they walked into the living room. “She said that she’s almost done.”

“Great! Let me know when she’s ready, okay?” He headed towards his favorite spot, the recliner. At the end of the day, he could always count on its soft cushions to relax his aching joints. “I’m just going to put up my hooves for a bit.” Magnum jumped on the recliner and leaned backwards, letting out a sharp exhale as the pressure on his hooves lifted. “Ah! Much better!”

Sweetie Belle sat on the floor next to him and stared with her unending smile. “Soooooooo...” Sweetie Belle said, stretching out her words. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

Magnum wiggled in place, trying to get more comfortable. “Why, what’s tomorrow?”

Her eyes brightened. “You know! You promised to take me to the park, remember?”

“Oh...” Magnum rubbed the back of his neck with a hoof. “Sorry Sweetie, I forgot. I’m really tired, so perhaps we could go another time?”

“Okay...” Sweetie deflated like a balloon, her earlier enthusiasm vanishing into a puff of smoke. She laid down and curled into a ball, her ears sitting flat against her head. “Some other time then...”

“How does next week sound?” he asked.

Sweetie Belle whispered, but Magnum still heard her. “That’s what you said last week...”

Magnum looked down at his daughter who had her head in her hooves. When he had a less demanding job, they were able to go all the time, but after he had gotten promoted, he was always either tired or busy. Except for the sparse few hours after he got home, he never really spent as much time as he wanted with Sweetie Belle.

Magnum gently stroked her back. “You were looking forward to it that much, huh?”

“Yes.” Sweetie pouted with her lips.

Magnum paused before lifting up his daughter’s chin. “Well, if it means that much to you, then alright. We can go.”

Instantly, Sweetie Belle jumped up. “Really?!”

“Of course.”

“Yippee!” Sweetie Belle bounced around in a circle. “Yay!” She jumped on his neck and hugged it tightly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

"Anything for you, Sweetie." Magnum laughed as she cuddled into a ball in his lap. He leaned his snout down and nuzzled her. "So... you said you tried to be a shopkeeper today?"

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A Chance Meeting

Outside of the Canterlot Castle, in the Gardens, a pink pony sat on the stone bench and waited. Every so often she'd gaze up, hopeful to see the familiar face appear once again. She checked the clock and sighed; it was a quarter before five. She had been early, but she wanted to make sure she wasn't late.

"Hello Pinkie."

Pinkie's ears perked up and her eyes lifted to see a familiar grey pony. She was carrying a large case on her back. Before she could blink, Pinkie pounced on her and embraced her in a hug. Pinkie lifted her up into the air and squeezed.

"Can't... breath... please let go."

Pinkie slowly lifted her back down to the ground and pinced her cheeks. "Inky! I missed you! You should call more often."

"Sorry. Been a bit busy." Inky pointed at her suitcase. "I just lost track of time." She held up a piece of paper. "I received your letter. What did you want?"

"Oh nothing special! Just wanted to say hello to my dear ol' sis!" Pinkie placed a foreleg around Inky's shoulder. "Haven't heard from you in so long, I thought you died."

Inky slowly lifted Pinkie's foreleg off. "I wasn't the one who left."

"Oh. Right." Pinkie stared at her hooves.

"Anyway, I'm a busy pony Pinkie. You said you wanted to ask me a favor, so what was it?"

Pinkie fiddled with her hooves some more. "I... I was wondering if you'd like to help me with a song. Since you're good with music and all."

"Go on."

"Some friends and I have been invited to the Grand Galloping Gala and I heard you were playing there. Do you think you could play a song for us? For old time's sake?" Pinkie stared into Inky's eyes pleadingly.

Inky sighed. "Depends on what it is. I can't make any promises."

"Great! How about 'Pony Pokey?'"

"Ugh." Inky put a hoof to her head. "You know how much I hate that song."

"You do? But you liked it so much as a foal."

Inky threw her hooves out. "That's because it was one of the very first songs I've learned. It's just so... basic."

Pinkie sagged. "So you won't do it."

Inky crossed her forelegs. "I didn't say that." She looked off into the distance. "If that's what you want, I'll do it."

"Yippee!" Pinkie jumped into the air about twenty feet and did several backflips before landing neatly on her hooves. "I'm so excited!" She ran forward and hugged her sister around the neck again. "Thank you! Thank you so much!"

Inky smiled. "Anything for you, Pinkie." She turned to walk away. "If there's nothing else, then I have to go now. Really busy, you see."

Pinkie watched as she walked away. It had only been for a short while, but she was glad she got to see her sister once again. A smile appeared on her face that was so wide, it stretched out like she was trying to eat a banana sideways.

Effluvium

The star’s ethereal effluvium issued forth into the darkness, brandishing incomparable light and energy against the winking expanse of space. Soundless, sleepless, soulless. Its death was not unexpected. Its life well-lived, she drew back into the void which bore her corporeal form all those millennia ago. Time had collapsed her memory into a soupy den of ageless, faceless voices from the night. The most severe evisceration of her mind had come when she and her sister forced together into the same being.

Her mind was now little more than the vapors which once might have streamed from the bogs. Once, before the world washed away; once, before the night came to stay; once, before the fire scorched the day, she had been happy.

They were left bereft.

Useless, formless, winding kindness. Once more the life lived long ago rises to her eyes.

Her subjects, her ponies, her friends—

Quiet now.

Her energies had run their course. Her sentience now lay exhausted in the tendril strands of conscious thought reaching out into the desolation.

The tombstone was cold.

Twilight rested a hoof against it, feeling the weight of the object protruding from its loamy soil, the dirt which grasped the bodies of her beloved friends.

What had she become?

The innocent unicorn, Celestia’s brightest pupil, mediator of nightly gloom and sunny doom.

She didn’t know who she was anymore. It was becoming increasingly difficult to remember. There was only the constant beating in her chest ticking away the moments. All the faithful faces of her subjects now seemed to blur into a mocking façade. She learned all their names.

Behind the stone was a tree, planted there before the graves were dug. It was a cypress. She still remembered the prayer cards fluttering in its branches. She still remembered the bouquets of poppies scattered about the stones.

A phoenix in the tree cooed a soft coo. She looked up at it.

It was a regal bird, a noble bird. Its red, orange, and yellow feathers glimmered gleefully in the light. It smiled its birdish smile and began pruning itself.

Somepony had scored the trunk of the tree with a circle, and in the circle was a crown.

She bowed her head, trying to calm herself.

What had she become?

With some concentration she was able to remain meditative. She wished she could say that time had worn away the sadness, too. But it hadn’t.

In the end, she was here and they were there. There were no deals about fairness.

What had she become?

Out of the darkness came a thought:

Hello?