The Sour Grapes Chronicle Side Story: The Avalanche

Chapters

The. Worst. Possible. THING!
I'm Free, Freestylin'
It's All Downhill From Here
Avalanche Valley

The. Worst. Possible. THING!

Of all the worst things that could possibly happen, this competition had to be the. Worst. Possible. THING! True, Ice Storm should not really be going into mental histrionics, but a whole MANSE full of the kind of powder trash that made her life miserable? How could it NOT be the worst possible thing? She was only supposed to be here for a couple of weeks, then the Hay-Bale Energy Bar Winter X-Treeme Sports Spectacular; co-sponsored by Ponythirst (You’re going to be unCOMfortably energetic), Red Minotaur (Give you wiiiiings), and Manticore Energy Drink (The drink with the STING!); just had to be held HERE! Also, it is quite possible that she may be hanging out with Rarity a bit too much. The mental histrionics sound rather like Rarity more so than herself, but still... Queenie could not allow those poor interns to face the ravening masses alone, without somepony with experience to back them up. She had to admit, however, that when this was over, and she returned to Ponyville for the rest of the winter, she was really going to enjoy her vacation. Yes the whole thing was just one spectacle after another, with not only wall-to-wall powder-trash ponies and their fans... but half the time they had prematurely downed one or more of the various “energy” products and were finding new and unusual ways to burn off their newfound pep.

One of the late arrivals, just in time for the snowboarding competition, was wearing a look of disgust on his rather coltishly handsome face, as he watched his teammate twitch and scoot about. The purple Earth stallion reminded Queenie of Pinkie Pie, but without the her good nature, and ability to make a pony smile. She then got a rather horrible picture of Pinkie Pie on one of those energy drinks, then shuddered at the very thought. The unicorn, who was wearing a blue snowsuit with black snow boots and was carrying a snowboard , was not looking happy at all.

“Dude,” he said, his voice straight from the sun-kissed coast of southern Coltifornia, “how can you stand that stuff?” The rest of him suggested he was from that area of Equestria, too, with the tan coat, artfully messy blonde hair, and a goatee, that gave his face a scruffy sort of charm. Queenie shook her head again. Why did that unicorn have to be so good-looking?

"But it's got the invigorating taste of Hay, fortified with Locoweed,” his purple earth pony companion uttered, looking very jittery.

"I think he's pointing out the fact you're eating it like cereal with the Ponythirst on top," uttered the blue pegasus mare trotting along with them.

"Snap Crackle and Burp, buddy!” The blonde unicorn who initiated the conversation very nearly facehoofed, before realizing that his boot would probably hurt. He just slowly put his hoof down, and sighed gustily.

"I am, like, so going to fire my manager," the unicorn said in a low enough voice that his cohorts couldn't hear him, but well within earshot of Queenie who was mopping up the tracked in snow. Icestorm didn’t think too much of the utterance, as she continued her duties. The Powder Trash clumped their way out into the snow, probably going to practice before the actual start of their events. The blond unicorn, though, did not seem too happy to be stuck with his team. Almost as if they had never worked together, before. Would be interesting, if she cared.

Queenie kept at her duties, supervising the interns, and taking a page or two from Sour Grapes’ book on management. She was firm, but not tyrannical in her order-giving. She made sure the interns got their breaks, when it looked like their energy was flagging. Lastly she made sure they kept hydrated, and warm. Nopony thinks about hydration in winter, but it is just as vital as it is in summer. All in all, the interns were doing better than she was expecting, but she wasn’t going to leave until after the week-long competition had ended. It was the least she could do. And she’d be back in Ponyville well in time for Hearth’s Warming, and able to celebrate it with her second family. Not that Hearth’s Warming, here, was not fun, it was just overshadowed by selfish ponies giving their families a vacation for the holiday… at the expense of the service ponies. She was back to sweeping and mopping the entry hall, when she felt a cold muzzle poking her side, snapping her out of her cleaning zone. She heard a tired-clumsy shuffle of hooves, and a murmur of “sorry”. She then heard a quiet gasp. Queenie looked up to see the blond unicorn from before standing there, staring at her, is if he had been stunned.

“May I help you, sir?” Queenie asked, politely.

“Huh? Oh! Sorry, sorry,” he said, in that laid-back accent of his, ducking his head with embarrassment. “I totally didn’t mean to stare at you like I’m some kinda idiot or somethin’. Aw, geez… brilliant, Dusty…”

“Hey, is that Dusty?” asked a feminine voice, from behind the snow-suited unicorn. He looked behind himself, panic becoming evident on his face.

“Nice seeing you, gotta go,” he said, before scrambling up the stairs. Queenie was a bit confused at that particular course of action. It went against how most of the Powder Trash she had encountered usually acted. She shrugged, and finished up in the foyer. Since it was about time for dinner, she went to the kitchen to help her mother with the rush.

The kitchen was fairly large, no doubt because it’s original designer had imagined grand banquets on a regular basis. Entering the room was like being hit with sauna-intense heat and humidity, and the activity… while at Grapevine Hills Queenie had been invited by the her employer to join her in visiting the local Apiary where she had the chance to see the inside of an active beehive. That was what this reminded her of, one macro-scale hive of activity. Concoctions boiled away, chefs chopped, cooks sauteed and seared, apprentices went back and forth between the stations… and in the middle of it all, there was the Queen Bee, in the form of her mother, Snowen Ice.

Even with her mane hidden under netting and a chef’s hat, and the vegetable-juice staining white fabric of her uniform, there was no denying the beauty and grace of the Glacial-blue mare as she organised the chaos while working on a massive vat of her specialty. She was tasting the crimson contents as Queenie came up along side of her.

“Mmm… perhaps a little more salt. What do you think, child?” she said musingly, offering Queenie a taste of her famous gazpacho.

“Just a little bit, Mother. Not too much,” Queenie advised.

Her mother deftly reached up to a shelf with a wingtip and brought a grinder down within reach where she spun the handle vigorously to add the needed spice. She then stirred the soup again and tasted once more before smiling and filling a series of bowls.

“Funny to think a cold soup is enjoyable at a winter resort, but all that activity in their heavy winter coats…” she tittered with polite laughter. “Ah, but we know better don’t we? Would you be a dear and take these and some bread to table Six, Ice Storm… Ah, sorry. I mean ‘Queenie’.”

She said the correction with a touch of amusement. Her daughter’s nickname had been welcomed easily by the citizens of the valley as a way to separate her duties from her status. Her parents were aware of the joke behind it but appreciated it as a sign that she had grown out of her once infamous “snobbery”.

Queenie nodded, using her wings to pick up the trays accepting some bread from Wholegrain the manse baker, and trotted out of the kitchen taking what was once a servant’s entrance to the dining hall, heading right to the table. A very familiar blonde head was sitting there with three others. One of them being the purple earth pony from before, his magenta mane apparently wet from being washed. The blue pegasus from before was there, too, along with another mare: A golden brown earth pony wearing a black cowpony hat.

The good-looking blonde unicorn looked at her, his eyes widening with recognition. “Oh. Hey. Let me get that for you,” he said, his blue-white magical field engulfing the bread and bowls, setting them in the table. This action caused his three cohorts to look at each other, and roll their eyes.

“So I’m thinkin’ that this time I can use my new trick for the big finale. I call it ‘Blaze of Glory’.” said the purple stallion as he snapped the largest loaf in half and immediately dunked it in the Gazpacho “I got these custom fireworks from this unicorn pyrotechnists I know and this special harness you hook them up to. Y’see first I keep them under my jacket until the final stretch, doing all the routine stuff, then as we reach the bottom I fling it off and blow their minds by doing the last stretch in full rocket-propelled technicolor.”

Queenie couldn’t help but flinch at the thought of this snowboarder with his body surrounded by incendiary devices… somewhere out there, the Storm-Riders’ fire and safety specialist Firestormer was no doubt itching all over from the stupidity radiating off of this foal.

“Dude, you are aware this this place is called Avalanche Valley, right?” the unicorn who called himself ‘Dusty’ asked with a very pained expression on his face. “Those fireworks are noisy, and would probably trigger one… never mind what they would do to you, dude.”

“Aw, it’s perfectly safe. I had some unicorn eggheads go over the math. They say that I got a ten percent margin of error. A whole ten percent! That’s better than what we normally face going down a fresh run at Ponybones Peak.”

“Bunny slope, or triple diamond run?” Dusty asked, eating the soup, properly, using a soup spoon. “‘Cause I think your eggheads don’t know what the hay they’re talkin’ about.”

“Aw come on. they were SeeEssGeeEffYou students, buddy. You gotta be smart to get into that Al-ma May-Ter.”

“Sheoot, Dusty, let the guy take his own life in his hooves. Ifin’ he gets hisself in tha hospital, ‘least he looked good doin’ it,” said the other earth pony, in the hat. Dusty just sighed.

“Students?” Dusty asked. “You got students from Celestia’s School For Gifted Unicorns… Mind you they’re smarter than your average unicorns, but still they’re still students… Roman, you’re going to get yourself burnt to a crisp.”

“Hey, you know the X-Treem Sports motto…” He picked up his drink and stood on his chair, raising his voice to the room. “Live fast… die young… and leave a beautiful corpse!”

The competitors of the room all stood and raised their own glasses in a laughing cheer before quaffing their contents and sitting down again. Dusty simply rolled his eyes.

“Tough time doing the last, if you’re burnt to a crisp,” Dusty muttered. He obviously did not agree with the X-Treeme Sports motto, this Dusty. He didn’t stand up, for one thing. He just sat there, rubbing his head, as if a headache was coming on. The gesture looked quite familiar, actually. Queenie had seen Grapes doing the same thing, when overdosed on Pinkie Pie.

In the meantime, Queenie had been busy, bussing empty tables, while she was out there, gathering up dirty dishes, and putting them in the dish cart that was out in the dining hall. The rush was over, and it was slowly emptying, as the Powder Trash moved to the lounges or to their rooms to watch the replays on the news reels or the footage captured by their team’s personal camera ponies.

The mare in the hat tossed her a five bit piece ‘for her trouble’ and slapped her upside her buttocks. Something that nearly made Queenie drop her tray. Sure at least once a year this happened to her but this was the first time by a female.

“Rodeo, that was… Seriously! Let the poor mare do her job,” Dusty said sounding annoyed.

“C’mon, that outfit she’s a wearin’? Begs fer a little…” Rodeo started with a sneer.

“Dude, no. Sure, it’s nice to look at, but seriously, that’s all it’s meant for. Do you go to a museum and tilt all the paintings?” Dusty uttered.

“Nope. But I jus’ might, now that ya mention it.” Dusty just facehoofed in response.

“C’mon, Rodeo, let’s leave mister stick-in-the-mud to his soup,” the pegasus said, getting up.

“Sure, Lip Trick. Room’s more fun, anyhow,” Rodeo said smirking at the blue pegasus with a very obviously dyed multi-color mane. Roman smirked and got up.

“Knight in shining armor ploy,” the purple earth pony said, winking at Dusty. “Nice.” He then left, grinning. Dusty, as soon as they were gone face-planted into the table. Thankfully the old sturdy wood deflected his horn, but he ended up leaving a scratch. Dusty lifted his face from the table, looked around, then quickly used his magic to… repair the scratch. He proceeded to enjoy his soup, and carried the dishes, himself, to the dish cart by the kitchen.

She normally wouldn’t have noticed this but… but for some reason she seemed to want to keep an eye on him. It was strange. She never had this urge before, at least not with a pony who WASN’T a troublemaker. There was just something about him. Something different. His willingness to stand up for her, his consideration. He taking the time to fix the gouge he left in the table, and actually taking the dishes, himself, to the cart… He was not the usual resort guest.

The dining room was done, so she took the back stairway to sweep up the upstairs balcony. Those two… harridans were already upstairs, hanging out, watching Dusty come trudging up the stairs. The behatted mare, Rodeo Flip casually sidled up to a sideboard, a smirk on her face. They waited until both Queenie and Dusty were close enough, then Rodeo casually bumped the sideboard, sending an antique vase to the floor, shattering it. Dusty just glared at Rodeo.

“Whoop! Pardon mah hips,” she drawled with a smirk. “Guess ah’m not as graceful on stairs as ah am on snow.”

“You totally did that on purpose,” Dusty said with a frown. “Never mind that was a vase from the era of Prince Nebula . Thing’s priceless.” The words “vase” and “era of Prince Nebula”' set off alarms in Queenie’s head and she carefully approached the scene of the accident. She steeled herself for what she might see... but the reality was worse than the mental picture. It wasn't that it was an antique worth an obscene amount of bits to the right collector, nor that it had been in the family for close to two-thousand years... It was that her Grandmother had personally given it to her. It was perhaps the one thing that the two of them appreciated in tandem. It was common ground for them to start their relationship with. Most others found it on the tacky side but to her and her grandmother... it was beautiful. And now... now it was just a pile of shards and chunks.

“Oh come on, Dusty. If’n it was THAT old then they shoulda replaced it long ago. Get themselves a brand-new antique,” Rodeo Flip said trotting on, a smirk on her face. Lip Trick leaned close, and whispered.

“Good luck,” she whispered, before trotting off with Rodeo. Dusty turned away from the retreating rumps of his teammates to see Queenie kneeling next to the fragments of the vase, carefully gathering them into a single pile. The way she did so betrayed a personal and very deep emotional attachment to the ruined item. The way she was careful with the pieces, trying to not damage them any further nor lose a single shard in her effort of cleaning up. While she didn’t say a word, her expression was one of deep sorrow, tempered with a very controlled resignation to the situation. She wasn’t wailing or screaming but he could tell that while calm on the outside, on the inside she was no doubt crying.

Dusty bit his lip he finished climbing the stairs, then knelt down, with a grunt, and concentrated on the pieces, sticking his tongue out a bit, as he concentrated on the shards, carefully reconstructing them. Every shard, every speck, was carefully put back into the whole that was once the vase, every piece glowing with Dusty’s distinctive blue-white glow.

Queenie’s eyes widened to the point she had to force herself to shut them or else her eyes might fall out. She stared at the Vase, reconstructed and with barely the faintest sign it had been broken on it’s surface. She started to reach out for it then stopped and pulled her hooves away for fear of somehow breaking the spell.

“How…how did you…?”

“Fix-It spell. Should be… well not good as new, but at least it isn’t in pieces,” Dusty said getting up, and scuffing a hoof humbly. “It seemed important to you, so…”

“It was… is. It is important to me,” she said as she gingerly scooped it into her grasp. “Very important. Thank.. *cough* Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome,” Dusty said with a smile, then, scuffed his hoof again. “Ah… er… I don’t suppose you’d… you know, like to go out, sometime? You know, on a date? A real, honest-to-Celestia date? Have somepony waiting on you, for a change, instead of you having to wait on ponies? I mean… I’ll understand if you say no. I mean, c’mon, considering the company I’m forced to keep, I wouldn’t blame you…”

Queenie blinked then giggled nervously.

“A date? I.. Well I don’t know… I’ve never… I mean this is all so sudden.”

“I know… I guess I shoulda waited, but… you… you kinda caught my eye when I ran into you, this afternoon,” Dusty said, sheepishly. “And, yeah, I was starin’ like an idiot, but… you’re just so… gorgeous. Never mind you workin’ so hard, and puttin’ up with flankholes, like the ones on this team my manager put together. Kinda admire that, too. The putting up with flank-holes work-ethic, I mean. I swear, he went out of his way to find the most egotistical jerks he could find. Teammates are sure I’m tryin’ to get into your uniform, but… I’m not like that. Which makes me weird in the sports world.”

“Into my uniform?” she asked as she was about to set the vase back on the sideboard where it had originally stood, then changing her mind opened a drawer and placed it on top of some soft linen. “But you would look positively dreadful in my uniform. First off the blue would clash with your eyes.” Dusty laughed, quietly, trying not to wake anypony up.

“Not quite what I meant. They think I’m tryin’ to seduce you,” he clarified. “But I’m not that kinda guy.”

She placed a hoof on his shoulder and smiled.

“I know what you meant. I was teasing you. May I take a day to think about this? It is a rather sudden request, I’m just used to quietly shrugging off lewd commentary and trying not to dignify inappropriate touching with a response rather than being given a.. a DECENT proposal.”

“As opposed to indecent ones, huh?” Dusty asked with a smile. “I understand. And, hey, it’s kind of a maybe. I like maybe. Maybe’s good.”

“Maybe is good.” She smiled at him. Good heavens, was she smiling? She touched a cheek reflexively and was surprised. She couldn’t help but feel a little astonished at the thought a young stallion had made her smile without telling a joke.

“Everypony calls me ‘Dusty’,” he said with a slight bow.

“Everyone just calls me Queenie.”

“Nice to meet you, Queenie,” Dusty said with sincerity, taking her hoof, and kissing it in a gentlecoltly fashion. “It’s late, and I’ve got a freestyle, tomorrow. See you around. Don’t work too hard, kay?”

“Ok… Um… is it good to say good luck or is it like the theatre where you have to say break a leg?” Queenie asked.

“Not with downhill ‘boarding,” Dusty said with a chuckle. “You’ve probably noticed it’s an all-too-often occurrence. Broken legs, I mean. It’s way too easy to fall just… wrong, and snap…” He shuddered. “I’ve been really fortunate, so far.”

“Good luck then… and good luck dealing with your… teammates.”

“Thank you. I’ll need it,” Dusty said, as he carefully walked off, trying to keep as quiet as possible.

Author's Note

Hope you all liked the Energy Drink names.

I'm Free, Freestylin'

Queenie was, once again, supervising the interns in the cleanup of the guest rooms. They were working rather well, and the chore was going quicker than she had anticipated. It looked like they were going to have some free time. Well, something was bound to happen, some disaster or another would require their attention. Even so, it would be nice to have a small space of time where they had nothing, really, to do.

“Hey, Queenie? I heard you were chatting with Dusty,” one of the young pegasus mares said asked with a nervous smile. She was one of the few that were actually employed here. An ice pegasus, like herself. “My dad’s shop has a roof where you can see the run for the freestyle. You want to check it out, since we seem to have a little free time?”

"Well... he was nice enough to repair the damage left in the wake of his companions so... I suppose I should at least see him doing what brought him here in the first place." The filly gestured for Queenie to follow. The Interns followed, too, they being under Queenie’s supervision. Never mind they were a bit curious about the events, as well. They went out of the manse, and found themselves in one of the businesses that overlooked the slope. It was greatly changed from its usual configuration. There was ramps, half-pipes, and assorted other bits for the aerial flips and other tricks done on a snowboard. "You know... I've seen them setting all of this up." she said, finding herself a nice spot to stand. "This will probably be the first time I've actually watched any of the tourists using it."

At the head of the course was a gate, and speakers for the sound system were scattered about so everypony in the audience could hear the music for the snowboarder’s routine. Queenie could hear a slow build-up of a magic-electronic rhythm echoing off the snowpack then suddenly a youngish voice — with plenty of reverb — crowed: “Ya OWN this beat!”

At the same time a familiar blue snowsuit shot out of the now-open gate, and began to perform spectacular flips, hoof-stands, and various other acrobatic feats to the tune of the song being blasted over the slope. She watched as the unicorn didn't so much defy gravity as dance with it... romance it... make love to it. He slid and shimmied and grooved to the beat, twisting his board in a manner that made it all look so... effortless. It was almost as if he had been born with wings made from air... unseeable but allowing him to do what no “earthbound” ever could dream of and SOAR.

And when it was over she became aware of two things. One was that she had quite forgotten to breathe during his routine. The other was that all the pegasus mares around her had their wings raised in beautiful courtship displays. She suppressed a giggle at how they had reacted to Mister Dusty as if he had been a Pegasus male performing a courtship flight for them… She blinked and looked back at her own wings and realised that it was a good thing she didn’t giggle out loud.. her own wings had extended into a GORGEOUS display of out-splayed plumage, each feather sparkling like freshly fallen snow at midday. With more than a little effort she compacted her appendages back against her sides and coughed loudly.

“Well now… that was quite the show. Thank you for inviting me up here to enjoy it,” she paused and spoke quietly. “Now if you can get back through the doorway we really should be getting back to work. Yes?”

The mares all looked at one another and with nervous titters and blushes they too suppressed their wings.

They filtered back into the manse, doing little bits of clean-up here, a little bit of dusting there. They soon reached the foyer and they all began mopping up the tracked-in snow and slush. Some were thoughtful enough to try and knock the caked snow off their boots, before entry, but a good deal more just didn’t care. They seemed to take gleeful pride in how much work they could make for the maids… And of course they stood around leering, while the maids worked at mopping up. Dusty came in, too, looking drained. He was one of the considerate ones, and rolled his eyes at Rodeo Flip’s antics.

“I swear you were raised in a barn,” Dusty asserted with a frustrated sounding snort.

“Shore was!” Rodeo said proudly. “Raised by pigs, when mah family was taken’ by a dragon! Piggies know how ta get down an’ dirty!”

“And I sure do appreciate it!” Lip Trick said sidling up to Rodeo. “Down and dirty’s fun, Dusty. You should try it sometime.”

“No thanks,” Dusty said with a huge sigh. “Especially if it means acting like an inconsiderate jerk.”

“Hey, Dusty,” Roman said strutting up to the hapless stallion, “where’d you get those moves, anyway?”

“They’re based on pegasi flight moves,” Dusty explained. “Read all about them in a book my dad had. But then it always helped I was a fan of Flick Swagger’s music. Rotating Silica is considered the quintessential classic rock group.”

“Didn’t know you were into classic rock, dude,” Roman said with a sneer. “Old stuff seems to be a theme with you.”

“Nothin’ wrong with havin’ a sense of history,” Dusty said moving to head to his room. “Keeps you from repeating your mistakes.”

“I never repeat my mistakes.” Roman laughed. “Too much fun making brand new ones.”

Dusty just shook his head, and headed up to his room, to get out of his snow gear. “I am so firing my manager,” Queenie heard him grumble, as she swept the upstairs balcony.

“Hey, sweetie,” the burly brown be-hatted earth pony drawled, leaning on the banister. “Dusty haul you back to his room, yet? Ifin’ he hasn’t, Lip an’ Ah could get y’all warmed up fer tha main event, Ah reckon!”

“Sounds like fun,” Lip Trick said with a smirk. “Rumpling the bed sheets is always extra enjoyable, with a third.”

“As intriguing as the proposition sounds, ladies,” Queenie replied, the tone of voice implying that the despicable duo was anything BUT, “my barn door, so to speak, does not swing that way.”

“Heh. Yer loss,” Rodeo said, with a smirk, as she trotted back to the room she shared with Lip Trick. The dirty blue pegasus simply waved a hoof at her, before following her paramour.

Queenie moved down an easily unnoticeable side corridor that was the entrance to the servants’ corridors and once out of sight of any guest allowed herself to —shudder— in revulsion. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been propositioned before, nor was it that this time it was by mares… it was that the one reminded her of somepony she knew back in Ponyville. Applejack, the self-proclaimed “loyalest of friends and the most dependable of ponies”. Normally such a statement would be a boast but Applejack lived up to such a statement with good honest hard work, fair manners and a down home sensibility that was very much endearing. This pony… Rodeo Flip… she was as if Applejack had somewhere gone… wrong. A parody written by a humorless hack. She pressed herself against the wall as the shudder came and passed again.

“Hey,” came a very familiar voice. A welcome voice. “Are you okay?” Dusty asked as he peeked in the “Staff Only” door. “You.. kinda left this open…” he added with a sheepish grin.

“Oh… oh yes…” she said smoothing her uniform. “I just needed a moment. to recompose myself. I saw… Your Rodeo Flip reminds me of somepony I know… and it disturbed me.”

“Rodeo’s disturbing, anyhow,” Dusty said with an eyeroll. “No manners, no discipline, no form, but somehow she gets decent scores. Probably because she just shakes her flank in their faces a lot… Which should be considered cheating, but it’s not.”

“It’s no doubt the appearance of a wild untamed spirit. A pony that hasn’t been civilised yet,” Queenie suggested.

“Nah, the judges are just thinking with their nethers,” Dusty said with a huff. “X-Treeme Sports… Nothing but a bunch of show-offs, and egotistical goits… I’d rather be competing in the regular circuit, but the soon-to-be-fired manager thought this would be good for me… More like he’s hoping I’ll develop an ego, and get him more money via endorsements. The regular sports circuit is where the real competitors are at. The mares and stallions with real skills, not the show-offs who think they have to literally go out with a bang… Sorry to lay this all on you. You’ve had your share of flank-holes, I’m sure. You don’t need to hear me complain.”

“You’re… not quite what I expected. I’ve seen a great deal of pow… ponies come and go from the valley and you are… surprising me… In a pleasant way.”

“Well good. I like being different,” Dusty said with a lazy smile. “I should get some sleep. Freestyle finals, tomorrow, and then there’s the big downhill. After that… I should be free for… stuff, as long as nothing happens.”

“Yes. Stuff.” She smiled. “Stuff can be good.”

“Yeah… Hopefully you won’t be too overwhelmed. I wouldn't mind seeing the valley through the eyes of a resident,” Dusty said with a shy smile. “Though… once the jerks are gone, I’d be more free to lend a hoof, when needed.”

“I won't say that prospect is unappealing,” Queenie said a little quieter than she intended.

“Still on ‘maybe’?” Dusty asked chuckling. “One of these days I’ll get a yay or neigh, yet.”

“Well… it’s not tomorrow yet.”

“Never mind it was yesterday, when I asked,” Dusty said with a small smile. “Still, no pressure. We don’t know if I won’t be in the hospital, after the downhill race. So good to keep things open.” He started to move down the hallway to his room. “Take care of yourself, Queenie,” he said as he departed.

She stood there a moment before touching her cheek and feeling a warmth from it that belied a blush. Was she blushing? Honestly! What was she, a lovesick foal? And yet… there was no obligation to fall in love. These feelings might just mean she liked him a lot, and a date probably would help her get a better idea of stallions in general. Oh yes she knew many, but none had shown any undue attention to her before… that she noticed. Even the members of the Storm Riders were more like family members than males to her. This… this was a new experience. If she was willing to admit it to herself, a rather pleasant one.

The next day went much like the first. Rising with Celestia’s sun, serving breakfast, cleaning the guest rooms, sweeping and mopping the foyer and various hallways. Though quite to Queenie’s surprise her mother sent her, and the other maids, out on a break.

“Why don’t you go and catch the act that’s coming up next?” Snowen suggested, a sly grin on her face. They all went to the shop’s roof, again, and watched as the snow was prepped for the next snowboarder… Then they heard the name announced. The next pony up was Dusty.

The music was yet another dubstep tune. She hardly heard the lyrics, something to do with wanting and needing… it didn't really matter though. Truth was she was on tenderhooves waiting to see what he did this time. And there he was, shooting out, and doing more amazing acrobatics, sending him into the air, as gracefully as anypony could ask. The song was slower, and with the theme of the song, there were some parts where Dusty acted hypnotised, seeming to get into danger, then using his lithe body to flip himself out of the “dangerous” situation. All in all it was a very creative routine. When he came to a stop at the bottom of the slope, he seemed to “wind down” like a clockwork toy. A moment went by, before the stands erupted in applause. He stood up, flipping his hair out of his eyes, and looked at the judges, waiting for the scores. When they were posted the stands were nearly shaken down by the cheering. Dusty, true to his apparent form, ducked his head humbly, and left the slope.

Queenie checked her wings for unintended FOOMPage and finding them still at her side felt confident that yesterday’s reaction was no more than her just a one-timer. Although she did feel very very warm here and now. She fanned herself and wished she had an iced drink.

“That was kind of wild,” one of the interns said with a shiver. “But he was still amazing.”

“Yes. He was, I mean it was amazing. Whoo… who here could use an iced tea?” Queenie asked. She received a chorus of “yeah”, and “sounds good” from the girls. With that they went back to the mance, had a bit of refreshment. Afterwards she, the interns, and regular maids went back to work. It was time for the great ingress, which meant snow in the foyer. Then came the dinner rush, and final nightly clean-up. Queenie then went to kitchen to enjoy a quiet meal, before retiring.

“So,” Snowen said, sidling up to her daughter, “enjoy the show?”

“It… had it’s moments.” Queenie replied guardedly. “I don’t usually watch but this year I’m glad I did.”

“Young Mister Dusty seems to be quite the nice young stallion,” Snowen observed with a smile. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had a real gentlecolt here at the manse. Wouldn’t you agree, dear daughter? If we had more like him our lives would be so much easier.”

“He seems so nice. I keep waiting for the other three shoes to drop,” Queenie observed guardedly.

“Hm. You think he’s too good to be true?” Snowen asked.

“I’ve been to the Gala, mother. I’ve seen sterling silver turn to cheap tin when examined closely. You were… oh so lucky meeting father. Fairy tales don’t come true often in the real world. Sometimes they do, but most often… we have to settle,” Queenie asserted, sounding a bit sad.

“Oh sweetheart,” Snowen said, hugging Queenie close. “I know most ponies find more frogs than princes… I also know sometimes you find your Charming in the least likely place. I can’t help but hope you find yours in the last place you ever looked, before.”

“Uhm… hi?” Dusty’s laid-back tone came from the kitchen door with a light knock. “Is it too late to get some of that awesome gazpacho? If it is, that’s cool. Just woke up kinda hungry.”

“Oh! Oh well.. I’m sure we have some left. Isn’t that right?” Queenie looked up at her mother with a little more eagerness in her eyes than she intended to display.

“Of course we do,” Snowen said, opening the kitchen door, and smiling at the tan unicorn. “Why don’t you come in, and have a seat at the table, there, and I’ll fix you right up.”

“You… sure? I wouldn’t wanna get you in trouble,” Dusty said peeking in.

“It’s all right,” Queenie said scooping up a clean bowl with a wing. “It’s not like you’re asking for an impromptu party to be set up in the dining hall. I believe we can handle a few leftovers. And gazpacho always tastes better as the flavors have time to blend.”

Snowen looked at the floor where Dusty had been standing and smiled. "At least this one knows how to wipe his feet before entering the manse."

Dusty ducked his head, with a blush, rubbing his mane with a hoof. “I try. I really do. I can’t help it if I’m outnumbered by inconsiderate fla-... er… ponies.”

“Oh never mind her, Dusty,” Queenie had found the pot and filled the bowl and brought it over to Dusty. “She tends to speak her mind rather openly… might get her into trouble one of these days. Come… you get the good table by the fireplace.”

“She kinda reminds me of my aunt,” Dusty murmured, as he followed her out. “Even in a kitchen, making culinary magic, she’s always graceful and poised, yet willing to speak her mind… just wish my cousin got more of the poise, and less of the outspokenness.”

“Troublesome mare?” Queenie asked as she set the bowl down on the table.

“From what I’ve heard, yeah,” Dusty chuckled. “I haven’t seen her in a while, though. No major competitions take place in Ponyville… maybe I should head there, and visit, after the competition season winds down. Might be the perfect place to lay lo-.. er.. to chill out.. Yeah.”

“It’s a nice place. I summer there…” she confessed, before rethinking her words. “Found good work on an agricultural concern, and part-time with some government work to make ends meet.”

“You’re pretty busy, aren’t you?” Dusy asked, after eating some soup. “Helping out your folks? History brochure on the Valley said that a lot of folks, here, have it kinda rough, thanks to an ancient Duchess. You must do a lot to help your family get by, huh?”

“I do what I must. Family is very important here, as is community. One of our more forward-thinking leaders, the Duke Thick Ice, said it best. ‘We’re all in this together.’ Which he then followed with ‘I’m pulling for ya.’, which some have debated was his faith in his subjects, that we would succeed in coming through hard times, or if he meant it literally by allowing himself to be harnessed and pulling a large garbage removal cart through the township..” Queenie giggled and smiled “Either way it was a grand gesture to do the latter. It’s the nobility’s duty to show solidarity with their subjects in times of hardship.”

“Whoa… he sounds like a totally awesome ruler,” Dusty said admiringly.

“The greatest of distinctions… is service to others.” she said softly, and perhaps with a touch of sadness. “Were there more who knew that little truth.”

“That’s true nobility. Okay, I’m gonna tell you a secret. My grandma has this… thing about nobility. And not the real kind, either. The puffed up tin-toy types from Canterlot with pedigrees as long as your leg,” Dusty said, making a face. “And she’s been trying to get me matched with some air-headed, Titled unicorn mare with more horn than brains just because she comes from a noble family… my dad wonders why I avoid Canterlot like the plague… until I remind him about Grandma. And that’s my little life drama. Not as life-or-death as putting food on the table, or helping your community make it through another winter of inconsiderate flank-holes and… and it makes me sound a bit like a whiner, doesn’t it? What a wonderful impression to leave with a pretty mare.”

Queenie smirked and raised an eyebrow into a gracefully high arch. “A little, but your concerns are no less valid. You could be considered the bleach in their little gene pool. Wouldn’t take much, most are shallow to begin with.”

“Yeah. Though… honestly, when it comes to dating, I’d rather be with a mare with a brain, who talks about all sorts of things, not just the subjects considered… proper,” Dusty said, finishing his soup. He licked his lips, getting up and picking up the dishes. “You know, you should totally find a way to can this stuff. Like in canning jars, maybe with a refill service. They pay shipping, handling, and a fee, and you send them tasty tasty gazpacho. It would be the ultimate dorm food. Summer picnic food…”

“No spirit stove or hot plate needed.” She smirked. “Would be a way to make a little extra on the side, for the pow...ponies heading home a meal on the go would be nice.”

“Just need a logo. Keeps Avalanche Valley in the noggins… Hm… I know somepony who would think this place is the bee’s knees,” Dusty said with a smile. “I’ll have to contact him, when I leave here… complicated endeavor, ‘cause he’s always busy. And, thanks again for the soup.” Dusty went into the kitchen, and managed to wash his own dishes, before any of the two mares could get to him.

She smiled and as he finished up said quietly: “So… for a first date, how was that?”

“Wait… what? That counted? But I had these plans. I was going to take you out, so you could be waited on, and enjoy being the one served, not…” Dusty said, looking a little panicked, then he noticed Queenie’s expression. “What?”

“One of my co-workers in that government job I mentioned has a rather interesting vocabulary. I’ve picked up a few of his expressions and I think one fits this moment quite well. I believe the expression is… ‘it’s all cool.’ You and I had a quiet time together, talked a little, learned a little about one another, and you acted the gentlecolt rather than the fool. Yes… it’s very much, all cool.”

“Oh. He sounds pretty cool, himself,” Dusty said with a nod. “I should head to bed, now. Big snowboarder finale, tomorrow. The Downhill Run… I hope that idiot doesn’t use those blasted fireworks… if so… well I’m sure you’ve got avalanche precautions in place.”

“Oh yes. We always do. Although we haven’t fired ‘Check-Off’ in a while we should be quite good.”

“‘Check-Off’?” Dusty asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Ah… you haven’t been on the walking tour of Avalanche Valley, have you? Check-Off is… well… a remnant of a darker era of Equestria’s history. It’s in short, a cannon. A very large one. It was given the name because whatever you fired it at was usually so devastated by the impact that you could just ‘Check it off’ your list of targets. Just before tourist season our drill team will fire it off a few times and the rapport will cause a pre-emptive avalanche.” she smiled sweetly at him. “Granted we haven’t done so since the games began and often sunshine can change the conditions on the slopes as easily as fresh snow, but if it hasn’t happened by now we should be good.”

“I hope so… also hope somepony like Roman Candle doesn’t decide it’d be cool to set it off,” Dusty said, as he started to trot by her. He paused, and very quickly kissed Queenie on the cheek, before making a hasty exit.

Queenie stood there a moment staring into air. Then touching her cheek, giggled… like a schoolfilly.

Author's Note

Yes, we went there. Not sure how those would become songs in Equestria. Probably Vinyl Scratch's fault.

It's All Downhill From Here

Everypony in the Manse noticed the difference in Queenie that next morning. She was positively cheerful, and seemed to float through her morning chores. She still did them well, naturally, but there seemed to be a lightness of spirit that had not been there, before. The regular workers, and interns noticed the change, and wondered what could have brought it about. Queenie’s mother, Snowen, however, knew exactly what had happened. The turn of events made Snowen really happy, because no mother wants to see her daughter unhappy.

Even Queenie could feel a change in herself. It was as if all was right with the world… alright maybe not ALL was right. She was still surrounded by obnoxious Powder Trash that often forgot that the locals were living thinking ponies themselves, but at the moment she wasn’t taking it so PERSONALLY. Was this what optimism felt like? Whatever it was she liked it, and she wasn’t about to let anything ruin her day.

Dusty came down, at one point, geared up and ready to go. He waved to her, as he headed out to get ready for the big downhill run. This made her smile, and she briefly waved back. Once the morning chores had been done, Snowen all but shoved Queenie out the door so she could watch Dusty in the big race. Queenie trotted out back toward the spot where she’d watched for the past two days, and eagerly looked for Dusty’s signature blue snowsuit.

Rather than an out-and-out race, in true X-Treeme Sports style the rules had been shaken up a little. For one this was a team event. Just because one pony was fastest could mean nothing if the last pony in the team is the slowest on the mountain. Until your last teammate had crossed that line, the clock was still ticking. Also quite a lot of emphasis was being placed on how many tricks the team performed, as well as being the fastest down the mountain. The combination of the scores would net a team the win. Despite their “unprofessional” attitude, Queenie could see why Rodeo, Roman and Trick were all teamed up with Dusty. Showboats they may be, but in this case they were talented showboats and that’s what was required.

Things were going well, as to be expected. The event was being treated as per usual by the colts and fillies of the X-Treeme Sports set. Each team tried their best to outdo the others Dusty, though, seemed to be doing the best out of all of them. He seemed to be using all his grace and skill to make some amazing moves, while keeping up his pace. Though his other three teammates were a bit behind him, but not too far. Also, there seemed to be a lot of teams hoping to skate by in the showboating category to make up for lousy times with all the flips, grinds, and hoof-stands being performed. Then Queenie noticed Roman moving himself to a hillock. Next thing she knew, he came flying over the hill, his jacket exploding with fireworks of all descriptions, lighting up the area to an eye-tearing brightness, their shrill whistles making Queenie lay her ears back from the noise.

Queenie looked back just in time to see Rodeo fling a lasso to Roman Candle. Lip Trick had the rope in her teeth, and just as they caught up with Dusty, Lip grabbed him with her hooves.

“What are you DOING?!” Queenie barely made out Dusty’s voice from the slope.

“Winning!” Lip declared triumphantly, “You ever ‘Crack the whip’, Dusty?” Lip Trick laughed readying her grip on the rope.

Dusty wasn’t a fool and caught on to their plan quickly, leaning forwards and bracing himself for maximum control of his acceleration. “All right, fine. But you should have told me in advance! On three then… one…”

“One” was as far as he got when an unexpected occurrence… occurred. Roman Candle had a custom outfit covered in rhinestones and sequins to accompany his gorgeous spray of fireworks. The suit had been made to his personal specifications, but he had neglected to give such specifications to the ponies who made the hardware. The CSFGU students had given a lot of idea to the size and color compositions of the rockets as well as how to wire them to the earth pony’s frame so they wouldn’t so much as singe him… unfortunately they gave the information to ponies whose genuine occupation was to make Fireworks and not inform them of the actual usage of said rockets. The craftsponies set about making true fireworks and not just pyrotechnic displays.

The look on Roman Candle’s face was priceless when the rockets hit their “second stage” where their thrust was maximised causing a dramatic acceleration to the pony who was lashed to them. He gave a startled noise through the rope in his mouth when he jerked forwards at an unnatural speed, the rope jerked taught but unevenly, slingshotting Dusty not so much forwards but off on an awkward upwards angle towards the crowd.

Dusty’s yell was quite loud, and the unfortunate unicorn twisted his body, trying to alter his trajectory as best he could. It was pure luck that he didn’t land in the stands, but flew over them. He was right above Old Check-Off, and was descending rapidly.

Queenie couldn’t imagine what kind of thoughts were in his head at that moment. Seeing that massive, gleaming bronze Manticore’s head that made up the mouth of the cannon getting larger and larger in his vision. The design with the teeth and horns and everything could easily either impale him… or if he simply hit it at that speed, smash all his major bones before he fell from it to the ground and let gravity finish the job. She wanted to warn him, to shout out his name but the words caught in her throat. Then, the most amazing thing occured. He closed his eyes and she watched as he twisted his body in mid flight, those same moves that won him so many accolades had changed his decent just enough to land his board on top of Old Check-Off and let him “grind” his way down the length of the ancient weapon of war.

Oh, how she wanted to cheer! To fly to him and… wait… was she just imagining giving him a full-on lip-locking kiss?

Dusty reached the bottom of the cannon, and breathed an obvious sigh of relief.

CLICK

Dusty’s irises shrank at that sound. He landed on the hard stone platform at the base and turned to look at what that last bump was on the Cannon… then remembering what Queenie had told him the previous night watched as the now cocked hammer of the cannon fell.

BOOM

The sound was deafening, a thunderous noise of epic proportions, that everypony felt rattling them to their bones. Dusty who had been right next to the cannon had been knocked back by the recoil and fell off the edge of the platform, out of sight of Queenie… but she suddenly had other concerns.

Her head rotated to the high slopes of Icebreaker Peak, named for the first Duke of Avalanche Valley. She saw the explosion of the charge strike the snow, forming a distant thunder and a cloud of white and black.

“Oh Dusty…. what have you done?” she whispered in a hushed tone as the telltale rumble of disaster began to grow. “What. Have. you. DONE?” she shouted this time as she turned to those around her and following ancient instincts given to her by her Duchal ancestors, began to give orders. “Everypony, you know the drills well enough. Pegasi take flight over the snow’s crest, as high as you can. the rest of you, herd yourselves and anypony you can into the sheltered areas. Children and the elderly to the center with the strong surrounding them. Move, move move!”

Meanwhile Dusty hopped along his snowboard still strapped to his hind hooves. He scooted himself along, yelling warnings as he went. “Get to safety! Avalanche coming! Move your flanks! Move!” He kept going, trying to warn ponies as best he could, but the snow caught up with him, and he ended up riding the wave of snow down into town, still shouting warnings to anypony who could hear him. The buildings caused the snow to buckle, and twist under him, as he desperately tried to keep his balance. A final slap from the snowy wave sent Dusty flying off balance, and he landed, briefly experiencing excruciating pain, before he blacked out.

Queenie held a pair of foals close, shielding them with her wings, as the roar of the avalanche filled their ears. She considered herself fortunate to have gathered as many of her townsponies into this shelter. The rumbling crescendo of the avalanche had came crashing over them, with it the sound of some poor soul caught out in the deluge of snow. There in the dim green glow of the emergency chem-lights they all listened for the sound to die down, before they dared to venture out of their confines. Long ago when she rebuilt the town in her image, Thin Ice had somewhere along the way agreed to some suggestions from others. One of which were these shelters. Sometimes as simple as a long tunnel under a building, open at both ends, or a wedge-shaped stone barricade that one could hunker behind as the snow passed around them and sometimes as genuine as a true shelter with a heavy door with a reinforced ceiling and walls around. It was perhaps the only legacy that the ancient ruler had that had true value. After all, Avalanche Valley wasn’t named such for fun and giggles. Sometimes there were, well, avalanches, and the ponies of the region would need some protection. Some thoughtful pony had equipped the avalanche shelters with shovels, so the ponies who made it in could easily get out. It took them some time, because there was a lot of snow to shovel, but eventually they made it back out into the sunlight.

The town of Lumisadepallo was in a sad state. Many of the beautiful fiddly decorative bits that had been there since the time of Thin Ice had been torn off, leaving many of the sturdy Alpine structures unadorned. Debris littered the snow-covered streets. Queenie looked around, her heart sinking. She had seen the reports for hosting this whole contest, they would finally have been firmly in the black. However, once again, Avalanche Valley had taken a step back in its finances putting them back into the red. The ponies of the Valley called it ‘the curse of Thin Ice’. She just cursed herself for opening her heart, and letting that powder trash wiggle his way into it. She hung her head, sighing heavily, and turned her shovel to helping clear the streets, and open the other shelters.

As she worked, she realized that whoever had designed Lumisadepallo, they had put a practical side to the pretty buildings and streets. There were lots of little relief-ways that kept the full fury of the avalanche from completely devastating the town, itself. Queenie never knew the reason for these little alleys, before, except that one was home to a very particular statue. There it stood, carved in a glittering form of granite called “ice stone” and accented with the golden gleam of alchemic gold alloys. For years it had been marred by graffiti, and the vitriol of the ponies of Avalanche Valley. When one was having a bad day it was good to have a place to simply vent, and the throwing things at the figure of Thin Ice was very satisfying, and often cathartic. Now, however, the deluge of snow and ice had scoured the figure clean of centuries of markings, filth, and crude language. Queenie stood there, staring at the statue of Thin Ice. It had once stood in the square, but when she was deposed, it had been moved to this secluded blind alley, and marred. Now, with the brown-black coating gone, Queenie was shocked by just how much of a resemblance she had to the ancient spendthrift.

She could see it in the color of the stone, glittering in the sun like her own coat. The curl of the exquisitely sculpted Orichalcum hair in its mane and tail were identical to hers. And while the twin sapphires that had been cut, polished and installed as Thin Ice’s eyes, they stared down with a cold indifference to those beneath her gaze. Queenie felt a sudden wave of shame as she looked upon a figure that could easily have been an older version of herself.

This was her punishment for daring to want something for herself. To dismiss her duty to her subjects. For a brief moment she gave in, and the curse struck her down like a great thunderbolt. She turned, squaring her shoulders and strode away from the statue. She would end this curse, come Tartarus or high water. She would find a suitable mate, use his money to free Avalanche Valley from this cycle of feast and famine, and return to her ponies some modicem of dignity. The heart may want what it wants, but it’s like an unruly child and has to be taught to behave. The title “Duke” meant “leader” in the old language of the pegasi, and a leader must lead her charges, not be lead by something as fickle as her heart. The Lady Ice Storm of the Duchy of Avalanche Valley has duties to fulfill, and she told herself that it is not right for the daughter of a Duke to fall in love. Maybe someday she would believe that. Maybe, someday, pigs would also join pegasi in the sky.

Queenie supervised the effort to clear the streets, and open more shelters. It was slow going, but the Avalanchers were hardy folk, and the tourists were proving to be more useful than not to her surprise. As they cleared more and more streets, making their way to the main boulevard, they met another group. Tourists and Avalanchers were sweeping the street, while some others were shoveling snow ahead of the sweepers.

“Glad to see others are all right,” said a stallion in a snowsuit. “This crazy stallion actually dug out five shelters, before collapsing from exhaustion. Figured we may as well work on clearing the streets, and getting everypony back to their hotels, hostels, and the Inn.”

“Good,” she said, surveying the area. “Where are all the injured being taken? Celestia knows the doctor’s office was never meant for this volume of ponies.”

“They’re being taken to the Inn. The innkeeper and head chef were turning the grand ballroom into a makeshift infirmary,” the snowsuited stallion replied, nodding toward the Manse.

“Lots of space there. Dozens of ponies could lie down there without conditions getting cramped. Excellent. Right. Carry on, I’ll take a look at how things are going at the inn,” Queenie asserted, turning and making her way to the manse. The Avalanchers, and even some of the tourists, bowed a little to her, as she went.

Queenie’s very being felt charged as strode with purpose down the streets. Directing various recovery projects and briefly assisting in ones that needed an extra back or pair of hooves. She was one of them, she was apart from them. She was the Duchess Ice Storm of Avalanche Valley and Royal Sisters have pity on any who would stand in her path.

The main doors to the Manse swung open as if heralding her arrival, and despite her humble housekeeper’s uniform and scarf, all who saw her felt as if she OWNED the room. She crossed the floor to the open door leading to the makeshift hospital and zeroed in on the doctor.

“Doctor Splints, tell me good news. I could use some right now,” Queenie uttered.

The blue unicorn tilted his reflector back into place on his forehead and bowed his head ever so slightly to her out of respect of her lineage and cleared his throat.

“The good news, Queenie, is that it could have been far worse. As it is we have bruises, cuts, abrasions, contusions and minor broken bones. No frostbite, thank the stars. One fractured limb, and the idiot only made it worse by jumping up, and digging ponies out before collapsing. So the fellow’s being treated for both exhaustion, and the fracture.” He sighed and checked the clipboard that floated to his side. “He’s on some strong painkillers at the moment but fairly lucid. We got off lucky this time, nothing even remotely looking like a fatality. We’re also fortunate that you were here. You have a great deal of experience in this sort of thing. Hard to think what we would do without our future Duchess.” He said quietly before returning to his duties.

His words were true, she had to think about the future of the valley and the town. As the future head of state she had to do what was best for them, and not herself. She felt the anger rise up inside, the unfairness that a whole region should suffer for the vanity of her ancestor Thin Ice.

She went to the kitchen and made several pots of tea and loading up the dessert trolley with the pots and cups, then headed back into the ballroom. She moved between the rows serving the injured. She felt more comfortable doing it like this rather than just “surveying the damage” like some monarch who is trying for the appearance of looking concerned. She could discretely assess the situation while providing a modicum of comfort. She rolled the cart up to the next soul and poured the amber fluid into a fresh cup.

“We can’t offer much at the moment until the kitchen staff is free again, but we can…”

She froze. It was him, Dusty. Her eyes flicked briefly to where his leg was not just in a splint or a cast… but had a shining metal apparatus encircling the bound leg with offshoots from it sticking into the skin, indicating the aforementioned fracture was really quite as serious as the doctor had indicated.

“Sokay,” Dusty murmured, his voice slurred. “Others… need… more help… than me…”

The feelings swelling up inside of her at the sight of him revolted her. She couldn’t… not now… not after everything that happened. She set her jaw and set the tea beside him.

“Plenty of tea to go around. Sympathy is a little harder to come by.”

She hadn’t intended for the words to come out like that, so harsh and cruel sounding. It was as if deep down she blamed him for what happened… then again maybe she should. It would make it… easier. Wouldn’t it?

He just… sighed hugely as if he was being deflated. “Yeah,” she heard him murmur. “Don’t… really deserve any… sympathy…” Dusty seemed to slip into a painkiller induced sleep.

“Get your rest, you fool,” she muttered. “Marching about on a broken leg trying to undo the mess you caused… why was that bloody cannon loaded anyways? Ugh… can’t believe I had… interest in you. More the fool was I.”

She finished her rounds among the wounded and taking the trolley back into the kitchen washed up the dishes and took a few moments to herself to go upstairs to the gallery. There in the long hall were the portraits and the busts of all the ponies to ever be a crowned head in the Valley. All the way back to Duke Icebreaker. Although she could recite the names by heart, she hated coming down here… all those eyes looking down upon her. The weight of leadership felt oppressive. But now, now she squared her shoulders and glared back.

“No. I will not let you judge me,” she said quietly to the gallery. “I’ve made my choice. Happiness be cursed… I will do what is best for my subjects. End of story.”

With that she marched off, unaware she had been observed. That in the shadows her mother and father had been watching. They held one another in a comforting embrace, weeping for a daughter who sacrificed personal happiness for a noble cause.

Snowen approached her daughter, later that evening. “Queenie, dear, things are manageable, now. Why don’t you go ahead, and head back to Ponyville, to enjoy your vacation, as planned?” she asked. “Also… it will get you away from Dusty… I… worry you would end up saying something horrible to him. I know you’re mad at him, right now, but… there may come a time when you’re not, and ponies, even guilt-ridden ones, have long memories for hurtful words.”

The blond pegasus took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“You are correct as always, Mother. I would be unladylike if I were to say something… untoward. Wouldn’t it?”

“That… and someday you may… actually want to talk to him again,” Snowen said, giving her a wing-hug. “He’s not bad… made a very costly mistake, but not a bad sort. The last thing you need is to lose a possible friend because of angry words.”

Queenie took her time getting ready to leave, helping out where she could, and packing her bags, when she wasn’t needed. Finally she was ready to go, and she goes around, saying a quick goodbye to the Interns, the maids, and her parents. Finally she was making her way through the lobby when she was found by the last pony she really wanted to see.

"'Scuse me... but where are you going? Do you need any help?" she heard Dusty ask, as he hobbled up to her.

"I'm fine. I'm just... I have a prior commitment that's all. The state of emergency has stabilized and now that the contestants and their fans are leaving there's really no need for me to stay. During the rebuild I will be nothing more than a fifth leg," Queenie replied, glancing Dusty’s way.

"Oh. Okay. Look... there aren't enough words in the Equestrian language to convey how sorry I am for this," Dusty said, genuine regret in his voice. "I will do everything in my power to try and..." He trailed off, at a loss for words to describe what he'd do.

"Fine. Just.... go and do it then," She snapped, her emotions flaring up while she deliberately kept her back to him. "I really don't care WHAT you do! All I know is that I NEVER want to see you again!"

She heard Dusty gasp in surprise, then a sigh. "As you wish," he said quietly, and then she heard him slowly hobble away.

She took a deep breath and held it, hoping it would ease the ache she was feeling in her chest. She shouldn't have said that, but the words just came out that way so she MUST feel that way... right? Why should she feel guilty over hurting his feelings? She was a member of the Ice Clan... she could put her personal feelings aside for the greater good. It took nearly all of her strength to keep from looking back. She didn't want to realise that a chance for personal happiness had just slipped through her feathers. She hoped to Tartarus that the bar car on the train was open... she needed a very un-ladylike drink right now.

Dear Sour Grapes,

Hey, cuz. I totally screwed up. You were right about that manager I hired. I really should start listening to you, I swear. What’s worse, though… well… I met this girl. She was so amazing, there’s no describing it. What she looks like is easier: A light blue coat that glittered like fresh powder, hair like looping golden filigree… But she hates me now.

The flankhole manager stuck me with the biggest egos he could lay his hooves on, and sent me to Avalanche Valley to participate in the snowboard competition, there. Of course, he was hoping I’d grow an ego and do more endorsements. But, Grapes, dude, these ponies… they were the rudest, most inconsiderate jerks on the face of the planet. The girl, I mentioned, works at the inn we were staying at. Works hard, too, like she’s a manager or supervisor or something. And, of course, one of my teammates has to hit on her, when she’s working waitress at dinner.

I asked her out, got a “maybe”, and just kept talking to her. Her name is Queenie, and she is amazing. She said: “The greatest of distinctions is service to others.” And it’s true, she’s working to help others in her homeland. I sent you the history flier. Wish I could have found a book about it, but they don’t seem to sell any. They’re rich in history, but they only seem to cater to the tourist trade.

Anyway, Queenie is the type of mare that could turn a midnight snack run into a date. Just chatting about things…

Well, anyway, you heard about the avalanche, right? Made all the papers. I caused it. My teammates had this cockeyed idea on how to win the downhill. I went along with it, because the plan came up during the downhill, while one of the teammates had a hold on me. Something went spectacularly wrong, I ended up grinding down a cannon they keep on the grounds to create controlled avalanches. I set it off, and created an UNcontrolled avalanche.

So yeah, I fornicated up. Big time. Broke my left foreleg. Made it worse, digging folks out. Last thing Queenie told me, before she left, is that she never wanted to see me again. And while I was getting well enough to travel, I helped out with my fix-it spell. I did the right thing, which is donate all the winnings to the Valley. It didn’t seem like enough, so they got all my savings, too. Left myself enough to get to Ponyville, so I won’t have to borrow anything from you. I’ll save my begging for asking you for honest work… little joke there. The locals here are very nice, owners of the hotel are letting me stay a bit while my leg heals enough to travel. Should be there, early spring. Keep an eye out for me, would you? I won’t be able to walk far as I used to with this leg brace the doc put on me.

Dusty

Author's Note

And thus ends the Avalanche. The story will be resolved in The Sour Grapes Chronicles, though, don't y'all worry.

By the way, did you get the itty-bitty, teeny-weeny Princess Bride reference?

Avalanche Valley

In the magical land of Equestria, bordering on what was once the Crystal Empire, there lies a relatively small dutchy. Its original settlers were hearty pegasi who rather liked snow and ice, and escaped slaves from the Sombra-ruled Crystal Empire. As time passed, there arose two cold-hardy subspecies of pony. The Snow Ponies, and Ice Pegasi, both known for glittering coats, and ability to survive in ice and snow. The glittering coats came from the Crystal Pony ancestry that was shared among the ponies of Avalanche Valley, and the hardiness to cold came from the cold-loving pegasi who chose to live there. The little village came to the aid of new country of Equestria during times of strife, and one of the pegasi families under the leadership of the Pegasus Icebreaker, was named noble over the lands of Avalanche Valley given the title of Duke. Thus the Ice legacy was formed, and the village became the Duchy of Avalanche Valley.

Things went well for the Dutchy. Gems were discovered in the mountains, and were mined. They brought prosperity to the town, and its inhabitants, and the village’s scenery brought the occasional influx tourists. All in all it was a wonderful time for the Valley. Then the reign of Dutchess Thin Ice started. She wanted to make the Valley even more scenic, and tourist-friendly. In her mind her domain should reflect her personal beauty and elegance and so started a massive project to change the look of the town. Streets were paved with cobblestones, the cottages were made quaint, and homey, even the manse was made into a wonderful showplace of Alpine architecture. Then the gems in the mountains were gone. They were mined so ruthlessly, that they didn’t have time to grow back, naturally. So the mines were played out, and once the craftsponies were paid, they left the Valley. The ponies of the valley rebelled, and deposed Thin Ice, putting her nephew on the throne. The nephew, Thick Ice, came up with the plan to turn Avalanche Valley into a resort to try and gain bits for the country’s coffers. Although probably not considered “overly” bright, he did have the genius of surrounding himself with ponies smarter than him, to help take his basic ideas and either make them viable or simply discard them. To this day he's considered the father of tourism in the Valley and his portrait is painted not in the classic royal finery but the simple garb of a prosperous merchant, with the crown in the crook of his foreleg. Symbolising his classic speech "I'm pullin' for ya. We're all in this together."

The resort town of Avalanche Valley has all the features of any popular alpine resort. Quaint shops with Valley-made goods, ski runs with competent instructors, and a full-service inn that was once the ducal manse. The ponies of Avalanche Valley have always been hardy bunch, but even dealing with snot-nosed tourists can wear down the most sturdy soul. They’ve come to have a deep dislike for sports-ponies who use their pristine mountain slopes for skiing, snowboarding, and other winter sports. The Avalanchers tend to call them “Powder Trash”, for the trashy way they dress, act and for their tendency to leave trash all over their beautiful mountains. Every year, they do a little better, but every year, something happens, that the duchy ends up in the red, still. There is always some emergency, or some repair, or an extra-large clean-up effort after an especially trying tourist season. Financially, they always take two steps forward and one step back. It is trying, but the shared hardship has brought the ponies of Avalanche Valley closer than ever. They are especially close with their Duke and Duchess, who run the manse, and eagerly do as much work for the Valley as the rest of the citizenry. Most outsiders would not be able to even tell that the Innkeepers were nobility, and even a lot of the Canterlot elite were fooled into thinking that Avalanche Valley was a Crown Protectorate under the guiding hoof of Princess Celestia, after the “rabble” had deposed their “rightful” ruler.

The Duke and Duchess didn’t disabuse the Canterlot Nobles of their assumption. For one, it allowed them to see the Canterlot Nobles on a slightly unequal basis, and gave them the idea which ones were worth cultivating as allies. For another, it prevented the aforementioned less-than-noble nobles from looking down their muzzles at the Duke and Duchess. Even so, there were a few nobles that knew about the Ices. Those of the Pants family, known for being fantastic folks, and excellent stewards, never looked down upon the Ice family for doing honest work. Many nobles of Canterlot, being unicorns, would have looked down on the Ices simply for being pegasi.

So that has been the lot of Avalanche Valley to its present day. It is still a popular resort town, visited during all seasons. Hiking during the summers, in its beautiful countryside, and skiing and other winter sports during its snow-covered winters. One daughter of the Ice line decided to follow her heart, and Glacier Ice left Avalanche Valley to become an actress. The youngest, Ice Storm, seemed to take on the whole responsibility of being the heir, working in the manse as a chambermaid during the winter season, and taking a well-paying job with the Royal Equestrian Rogue Storm Emergency Response Team, sending back most of her salary to her homeland. She even formulated a plan B, that she told nopony about, but it lead to her closing off her heart to the possibility of finding love, “out there”. Because her plan B did not include anything as “unprofitable” as love. Every year Ice Storm attended the Grand Galloping Gala, searching for a stallion with money who would be interested in marrying her for her title. The Ice line was centuries old, and anypony who married into it would be a titular peer, even if the Ices were mere pegasi. “Plan B” was actually known by her parents, even though she never told them directly.

It's a mother's prerogative to read a diary so carelessly left locked in the bottom drawer under a pile of socks where anyone with a passing knowledge of picking locks with a hairpin can happen across it. It was not often that the actions of an offspring could bring a set of parents such pride as well as sorrow. They knew whatever the future came, their daughter had the best interests of her subjects in mind. They knew she would do everything in her power to keep whatever Canterlot Noble she chose from abusing the Valley, however… Honestly, they dearly wished she would follow her heart, when it came to choosing a mate. She deserved happiness, and taking a mate for money, to save her homeland would not make her truly happy. She would be happy for her subjects, of course, being able to turn away the worst of the tourists, but she would also be locked in a loveless marriage, with somepony who would only care about the advantages that being married to a noble of the Ice Line would gain them.

So that is how things stand. Ice Storm, nicknamed “Queenie” by her coworkers, worked for the Storm Riders in the off season, worked at her family’s resort in the on season. Then gained a job with her fellow Storm Riders with a humble vineyard in Ponyville one year, which garnered her more money to send back to her family. Little did she know she had met somepony who could help her. But then… Sour Grapes didn't talk about the Diamond side of her family very much.

Author's Note

Important background information.