The Duchess Pinkie Cometh
It was a beautiful morning in Ponyville. The very first rays of the sun were hitting the floor of Ponyville’s library, where two ponies were looking through ancient books and scrolls.
“Pinkie Pie, don’t you think it’s about time to take a break?” Twilight Sparkle said.
“But Twilight, the day has only just begun!” Pinkie said.
“Pinkie, we worked all through the night.”
“Don’t you pull all-nighters all the time?”
“Pinkie, we’ve been searching for several days now. Neither of us have slept once during those days. Where are you even finding the energy to keep working like this?”
“I guess it’s just due to my boundless enthusiasm on the subject!” said Pinkie, while munching on sugarcubes.
“Dentists everywhere must curse your name,” Twilight said.
“I’ve never heard any dentist curse my name! But the other day, I did hear Colgate curse Berry Punch’s drinking problems. I didn’t know Berry had any problems with drinking. In fact, I swear I saw Berry drink a tankard of cider just fine not too long ago!”
Twilight cared deeply about Pinkie Pie. Long ago, she figured that the only way to make her friendship with Pinie even stronger would be if Twilight had the ability to mute and unmute Pinkie at will.
“Hey, what’s this?” Pinkie said. She was reading The Complete Guide To Equestrian Nobility, Volume XVI, a tome that, in a pinch, could be used as a papery bed for a full-grown pony if said pony wouldn’t mind sleeping on the family tree of the Earls of Spurrey. “Twilight, have you ever heard of a Lady Prancy Pink von Zuckerwattenwald, Duchess of Norfoalk?”
“Why yes. The last Duchess of Norfoalk. She was a somewhat eccentric pony living in Mareundel Castle.” Twilight Sparkle, at this point, had entered Lecture Mode, which overrode her fatigue. “She’s known to have been a musical prodigy, to have written several major treatises on sedimentary agriculture, and to have been a scholar of ballistics, especially as it applied to setting up festivi- wait, are you telling me…”
“It says here that Granny Pie is her daughter,” Pinkie said.
“Pinkie…” Twilight said, “That would make you a Duchess. You’re nobility!”
Both ponies let this sink in for a moment. Pinkie Pie, in her shock at this turn of events, fainted[1]. Twilight Sparkle, no longer in Lecture Mode and therefore feeling the full force of her fatigue, merely fainted because she was out of energy.
===
After telling their friends (Rainbow Dash, Applejack and Spike were merely surprised, Fluttershy was likewise surprised but was polite enough not to utter the phrase “related to a bunch of useless nobs”, and Rarity was slightly too enthusiastic[2]) and checking and double-checking their facts (so that Pinkie could be sure) as well as triple-, quadruple-, and quintuple-checking them (so that Twilight could also be sure), they prepared for a trip to Mareundel Castle.
A few days later Twilight and Pinkie left Ponyville. Twilight would describe their trip as “uneventful”. Pinkie would describe it as “Boooo-riiiing”. Mareundel village was tiny, and was only ever talked about when somepony mentioned it was home to Mareundel Castle. In light of this, it is important to note at this point that Mareundel village was home to Mareundel Castle. The castle was enormous, and could be seen from far and wide. Pinkie walked up to the gate and knocked.
After a moment, the gate opened. A servant poked his head out.
“Can I help you?” he said.
“Hi, I’m Pinkie Pie, and I’m the Duchess of Norfoalk!”
“And I’m the Prince of Monacolt,” the servant replied.
Pinkie shook the servant’s hoof. “Really? You don’t look much like a prince to me! What’s the Prince of Monacolt doing here anyway? Shouldn’t you be in Monacolt?”
“Pinkie,” Twilight said, “I don’t think he is actually the Prince of Monacolt. But sir, this pony is, in fact, the Duchess of Norfoalk, and I have the books to prove it!”
“Yeah, no,” the servant said. “I don’t care for your books. Now leave.”
“You don’t… care… for books?” Twilight said.
“You shouldn’t have said that, Mr. Prince of Monacolt,” Pinkie said.
Five minutes later, Twilight and Pinkie had entered the castle and the servant had locked himself in the tallest tower. The next servant, being altogether brighter, decided to humour Pinkie’s claims, and before the day was over the castle staff had collectively decided Pinkie was in charge.
===
To The Most Hon The Marchioness of Cloudsdale,
You are cordially invited to a PARTY! the celebration of the discovery of a new Duchess of Norfoalk. The event will take place at the super duper awesome Mareundel Castle on the 27th of this month at sunset. Don’t be a stranger! We hope you will be able to make it.
Can’t wait to see you!
Sincerely,
Your friend Pinkie Pie ♡
Her Grace The Duchess of Norfoalk
“And that’s another invitation ready to be sent,” Pinkie smiled[3]. “I just can’t wait to see all these ponies here! It’s gonna be the best party ever!”
“Pinkie, you do realize that these are exactly the kind of ponies who think the Grand Galloping Gala is fun, right?” Twilight said. “Are you sure they’ll enjoy your party?”
“Way ahead of you! See, I asked myself why things went wrong at the Gala and have devised a bunch of fun party activities directly tailored for the upper crust! Like instead of playing Pin the Tail on the Poy, we will play Pin the Castle on the Fief, and instead of Bobbing For Apples, we will be Bobbing For Tiny Bits Of Expensive Foreign Cheese! And I instructed our orchestra to play all polka songs really slowly so the fancy ponies can still do their fancy dances!”
“This is going to be an interesting party,” Twilight said.
===
“Ooh, you must be the Right Honourable The Viscount Manestone!” Pinkie said. “I’m Pinkie Pie! I’m the Duchess of Norfoalk! Say, is there a Left Honourable The Viscount Manestone?”
Manestone was quiet for a moment. “Good evening, Your Grace,” she finally managed.
Over time, more nobles trickled in, baffled by Pinkie being Pinkie. The buffet was rather hit-or-miss, with the Stuffed Olives With Whipped Cream and Hot Sauce proving particularly unpopular (though one minor baronet would later ask Pinkie for the recipe[4], and now insists on having them with every meal), the games received a lukewarm reaction as the guests refused to show themselves enjoying such childish activities despite having to admit to themselves that, deep down inside, they were actually kind of fun, the music was generally disliked (which didn’t stop super slow polka from conquering the Equestrian music scene) and the pranks managed to cause the nobles to feel immense indignation, which is, admittedly, rather easy.
More than a few of the guests were starting to get annoyed with their host and her party, which came to a head when a marchioness sat down on a chair only to hear a series of pffbt sounds - she had sat down on a whoopee cushion, which Pinkie had cunningly engineered to play the entirety of Beethooven’s 9th Symphony in raspberry noises, so as to appeal to the nobility’s refined tastes[5]. The marchioness, fuelled by righteous indignation[6] rose up and raised her voice.
“Your Grace!” she called to Pinkie, who was blissfully unaware she was being talked to.
“Duchess of Norfoalk!” she called, still to no effect.
“Pinkie Pie!”
“Oh, hi!” Pinkie said. “I’ll get to you in just a teensy moment. I have to welcome these last two guests!”
“Fine, ignore me!” the marchioness said. “I’ll have you know that I’ll talk to the princesses about this disgrace of a reception! Now somepony find me a princess.”
“Hello,” Twilight said, “I couldn’t help but overhear what you just s-”
“Not you,” the marchioness said. “You were born a commoner. Most of us had to be born into our position, while all you did was work hard and earn your position like the riff-raff you are! I want to talk to a real princess!” She raised her nose at Twilight.
Meanwhile, Pinkie was making her own brand of pleasant conversation with two of her most important guests that night.
“Hello, dear Pinkie,” Princess Celestia said. “I hope you’re enjoying your newfound position.”
“Good evening, Duchess Pie,” Luna said.
“Hi Princessessesses!” Pinkie said. “I hope you’ll enjoy the party!”
“Oh, I’m sure I will,” Celestia said. “Your parties are always a joy to attend.”
“Are these ponies playing Pin the Castle on the Fief?” Luna asked. “That’s one of my favourite games! Sister, you told me that game was no longer played these days!”
The marchioness had now spotted the royal sisters, and just as the whoopee cushion entered the famous Fourth Movement of Beethooven’s 9th Symphony, she barged towards Celestia.
“Your Majesty!” she said. “I demand that you reprimand Her Grace The Duchess of Norfoalk for this travesty of a what’s Princess Luna doing?”
“She appears to be enjoying the party games,” Celestia said. A loud “Huzzah!” echoes through the hall. “In fact, I believe she just won a round of Pin the Castle on the Fief. So what is it you want me to reprimand my good friend the Duchess for?”
“Well, she - wait, friend? What do you mean, friend?”
“I mean that she has been my close personal friend for several years now,” Celestia said.
Gears slowly started turning in the marchioness’ head. Nobles weren’t famed for their intelligence.
“Did I say ‘reprimand’,” she said. “How silly of me, I meant ‘compliment’! So easy to get them mixed up.”
“So I take it everypony is having a good time?” Celestia said.
The marchioness merely nodded.
“Well, Pinkie, I think you’ll do a good job as a Duchess,” Celestia said.
Pinkie beamed. “I already can’t wait until the next party!”
The marchioness suddenly became very, very worried for her own mental health.
[1] Mostly because she saw Rarity do such things all the time, and figured that since she was high society now, she ought to emulate Rarity’s example.
[2] Twilight, thankfully, managed to convince Pinkie not to accept Rarity’s spontaneous marriage offer.
[3] For most beings in the multiverse, smiling a sentence would be a physical impossibility. Pinkie did just that with alarming regularity.
[4] “Recipe for 12 Stuffed Olives With Whipped Cream and Hot Sauce
Ingredients:
12 Stuffed Olives
12 Dollops of Whipped Cream
12 Tablespoons of Hot Sauce
Directions:
Apply whipped cream to stuffed olive. Add hot sauce. Repeat for all twelve olives."
[5] While she had greatly overestimated her guests’ ability to appreciate classical music, she did, at least, realize that the language of embarrassing noises was universal
[6] also, alcohol.
