One Horn Too Many

He had long since started to drone out the insipid drivel spoonfed to their group. Tourists traps were all the same in his opinion, even those that held genuinely interesting relics of the past. How, he asked himself, how could they make it so dreadfully dull?

“Kill me...” Edward groaned.

“Tempting but shut up,” Pierre hissed, so entirely focused on the lectures given. “I’m listening!”

“How can you listen to this garbage?” Ed mumbled without checking if Pierre had heard him. Instead, he scanned the ancient walkway. Noticing a small side path coming up, Ed started slowly veering toward it.

Trying to salvage what little he could of his sanity, he took the only opportunity he saw to get away from this boring affair. Unseen by either the guide or Pierre, he slipped into the passage, ignoring the signs, and stood with his back against the wall. Finally, he could breath a sigh of relief.

And, as his eyes went to his surroundings, he found himself speechless. Without the constant flow of repeated, artificially peppy words, the true majesty of the constructions could finally speak for itself. Rays of light filtered through the holes within the ceiling and shone upon the ruins, piercing the curtain of shadows stretching through the hallway. Particles of dust floated in the air, added density and weight to it. Walking slowly, he distanced himself from the wall and entered the open space. The marble was grey with dust and dirt, but far from detracting from the effect, it simply added a layer of authenticity to the ruins.

Edward grinned. This was what he had come to see. Treasures of mankind’s past! Had it been too much to ask to be able to observe and appreciate it on his own terms?

...Judging by the rapid footsteps echoing in the hallway, yes, yes it was.

“Mais, bordel!” Pierre, of course, it was Pierre. “What are you doing?! We’re supposed to stay with the tour guide! Those are ruins you’re carelessly striding in! An international treasure of humanity!”

Edward barely seemed to register his friend’s complaint as he refocused his bleary gaze on the wall in front of him. It seemed... different from its ancient stone brethren. From the tip of his fingers, it translated, not into something smooth and even like marble, but rougher, cruder. Whereas their surroundings were artistic, this felt like a pale imitation.

Out of curiosity, grinning at the growing fury of his friend, he gave a tentative push to the stone closest to the hole. To his surprise, he felt much less resistance than he expected. Was this part hollow? Before he could stop it, the thought, however absurd, crossed his mind. Surely, someone would have noticed before... “A treasure with a secret compartment it looks like.”

Pierre’s gaze went back and forth between the breach and his companion, once, twice, three times, before his hand met with his face.

Huffing he replaced his look of confusion with one of contempt. “I swear that I’m going to strangle you if you damaged this place!”

“Oh come now, I doubt finding a secret passage counts as destruction. It’s more like discovery, don’t you think?”

At once, as if they were dealing with castles of cards, the stones crumbled and fell down with a great rumble. Both of them jumped back, their gaze transfixed by the spectacle offered to their eyes only.

Behind the rubble that now lay at their feet, was a dark stairwell descending into what could only be a secret chamber, long since lost to time. The two could only look in shock and awe at the discovery they had stumbled upon.

“That’s…” Pierre swallowed, unable to process the events that had unfolded. His face retreating once again to that of shock and disbelief.

“I believe there is an all too real chance we just discovered a whole new crypt in this brilliant old relic.” Ed smirked, elbowing his now flabbergasted friend. “Come, let’s go see what we found.”

At that precise moment, Pierre’s expression seemed to hover between extreme excitement and caution.

“We shouldn’t...” he said without conviction. “Let’s contact someone, and have them take a look, with proper equipment a-and-”

“Don’t be stupid, it’s not everyday someone finds a secret passage in a thousand year old monument.”

Getting no response from his comrade, Ed shrugged nonchalantly before fishing through his pockets. Finding his cellphone, he smiled and pointed it ahead of him, using its screen as a makeshift torch. Blue light shone down over the stairs, stretching the shadows further away from them. He hesitated not any longer, taking to the path, and the second light that came behind him indicated that Pierre had been won over as quickly. They started their descents in the unknown.

The air was dry, dusty. Though the darkness made them imagine it damp, the staircase lead them only through a poorly lit path underground. More than once, one imagined the walls would close in, or a step would give in, but neither became true. Only their minds told them so.

After a time they could not conceive, Edward’s foot came down on a different surface. The echoed came, too short in contrast with all those before. The walls no longer closed in on him, they were so apart he could not touch them. Dazed, he stepped forward, hearing Pierre’s breath hitch up behind him. There was a note of pure amazement in that simple sound. Together, they lifted their phones high and shone light on a place that hadn’t seen it for thousands of years.

Fascinated, both young men gazed at the spectacle before them. There were scriptures on the walls of ancient creatures with claws and too many heads, chasing around more familiar animals and even humans. It circled the room, or at least gave that impression in the light of their phones. The images disappeared in the shadows, behind vases, urns, and even lances held by statues.

And at the very edges of the illumination stood one large shape that stared ominously at them from the shadows.

“What… is that?”

Heavy silence had fallen over the room. If one strained their ears, they could barely make out the incessant ticking of a cuckoo clock, somewhere in the kitchen.

They paid it no mind. Their thoughts were elsewhere, toward much more worrying and pressing matters. The visiting had gone by in the blink of an eye, the instructions had been half droned away. They really had had no idea how to react to that. At some point, they had asked to sit down.

She had left some time ago with a smile, assuming that their lack of words were out of some sort of deference or gratitude. They hadn’t moved from their spots in the living room ever since. Gray and maroon on a background of overly bright green. An absolute eyesore neither noticed.

From their positions on the ground, they simply contemplated what to do from here, each having vastly different results from their inner revelations.

Abruptly, Pierre stood up, almost losing his balance for a second. Once he was stabilized, he headed to the kitchen, a cross look in his eyes.

Edward did not fail to notice, but he only followed his friend’s progression with his gaze, calling after him,“What exactly are you doing, Mr. Mime?”

The maroon bicorn didn’t slow down.

“I’m trying to cook something up…” At the incredulous snort that then came in reply, Pierre only mumbled more frantic words. “I can’t just lie around anymore. I have to do something. Anything.”

Arrived at his destination, he shot a curious look at their kitchen. He didn’t mind the somewhat traditional style it had, what’s with the various wooden cupboards, counters and pantries. There were just some little details that made sense, for a pony. Things looks much smaller, closer to the ground, and the knobs were much wider.

Shaking his head, Pierre stepped inside and resolved to actually cook. He stood on his hind legs, then went for the first thing he saw. After many clumsy attempts, the cupboards swung open, and their contents were laid bare to him. A variety of scents filled his nostrils, with a much greater strength than he was used to. He had to stop his mouth from watering, in some occasions at the smell of plants a human would - should - turn down. He twitched away from those ingredients, grabbing as well as he could the ones he was more familiar with. They weren’t as many as he would have liked. Obviously, the groceries had already been done, which seemed both a gift and a small condescension.

No matter, he just wanted to cook.

Something simple, something easy, just to be able to go through the motions and not have to think too hard on their situations. Cutting and dicing, grilling a little, so as to retain his attention…

Finally, he settled on a grilled eggplant, rationalizing that he had always liked them, and that this was not a new penchant or any other signs of being an herbivore. His hoof hovered just inches away from the kitchen knife, a light of worry suddenly appearing in his gaze. He shook his head, telling himself that he was being too cautious, too cowardly as Ed would put it. So he grabbed the knife and applied himself to cutting the long purple veggie.

It wasn’t as easy as it should be. Perhaps it was the lack of balance, how his body could not remain standing without always leaning forward to a normal quadruped position; perhaps it was just the lack of fingers, those stubby hooves had no dexterity. Regardless of the determining factor, Pierre felt his grip slip.

With a yelp, he tumbled, sliding down the side of the counter, sensing his hold of the knife loosen and losing sight of it. In that moment, the clatter of metal against the hard surface seemed too loud, and light scattered as if reflected on a twisted mirror. Pierre’s pupils shrank down as the kitchen knife bounced off the cutting board and fell over to his side.

A loud string of French expletives rang through the house.

The knife was half-stuck into the floor, oscillating on its blade inches away from the tip of Pierre’s tail.

His heart beating madly in his chest, he twisted around, curled away as far as possible from the edge of the knife, and got himself up. Glancing at the subpar ingredients he had painstakingly managed to prepare, Pierre deflated. Back home, he’d have never accepted such a botched up job. He wasn’t going to do so now…

With a disheartened sigh, the French stallion returned to the living room, where his friend had heard most of his antics with a grumble of disappointment. His half-hearted glare did not impress, nor was it truly meant to. Ears drooped down, Pierre dropped down on his haunches. This hadn’t worked well at all… and he had actually been a pretty good cook, before…

There were no words to express his disarray. He felt stripped of his skills, of his body, left naked and vulnerable in a stormy sea, with only another lost naufrager for company. What did they have to face this? Nothing came to mind, just a wide and ungraspable blank.

And steadily, they fell deeper into a pensive state of mind, the mystery only half unfolded. The pieces were just out of their reach, so close to them yet so far, though there was also the lingering impression that perhaps they did not want to.

Until finally the silence that was between them became too heavy and he addressed the elephant in the living room, “She… is not going to help us get back home, is she?”

Taking a deep breath Edward shook his head dismally. “At this rate, most likely not. It seems she either doesn’t believe our story, or she’s in denial but either way, it’s going to take more than words to get through to her.”

Slowly, Pierre closed his eyes, looking thoroughly frightened. His voice trembled. “How long do you think we will be stuck here?”

The following question ‘Forever?’ floated between them, unspoken.

“Depends on how long we’re blown off and treated as infants who need a nanny. Once that stops, I'd say not too long.”

“Oh come on…” Pierre protested weakly, avoiding his friend’s gaze. “It’s not really like that. She’s just... looking out for us.”

“Looking out for us?” Edward snorted derisively. “At this point, I’m surprised she hasn’t baby proofed the house. ”

There was a scraping noise, compelling him to turn around and find its source. And find he did. One maroon hoof tapped to the ground, the French bicorn looked strangely wishful. Edward’s reply had apparently been thought provoking, though to which Pierre could only ask timidly, “Is it so... foolish to believe she just cares?”

“What?” Edward blinked. “Surely, you’re not… Don’t tell me it makes you happy...”

To his amusement, his companion looked away in embarrassment, his cheeks turning an even brighter shade of red.

Pointing at the flustered frenchmen, Edward smirked, a devious glint sparking in his gaze.“I knew it, you are a clopper! I always had my suspicions, glad to know my instincts are as sharp as ever.”

“You’re wrong, I’m telling you, crétin, that I’m not. It’s just...” Pierre sighed. “Well, Twilight was always my favorite member of the Mane Six, so her attention’s kinda flattering, c’est tout...”

“I suggest taking a deep breath, we all have urges from time to time. Heh, bow chicka bow wow!”

“Shut up, besides, it’s not as if you’re out of the hot water just yet either!” A reddish hoof poked Edward’s chest. “She asked for your preferences too. Clearly, your winning personality must have seduced her.”

“Of course it did, just look at who you’re talking to. My friend, I am without a doubt the greatest man to ever live,” Ed boasted, waving his forelegs in an over exaggerated flurry.

One eye twitching, Pierre decided to put his new form to good use and started hitting the wall with his head. With each resounding impact, he almost regretted not feeling enough pain to forget ever talking to Edward. If, during that time, there were british quips aimed at him for his actions, he did not register them, too taken by the simple desire to erase the last five minutes of his life. “What a stupid backwards day. You think you’re a great man, and Twilight looking into both our tastes.”

“Silly frenchie, I don’t think I’m a great man, I know I am, and secondly Twilight’s inquiry to what we look for in a lover is a bit...concerning, and a tad...forward if you ask me,” Edward retorted, rolling his eyes at the notion of Twilight’s possible affections. “I mean she can’t have us both. Unless she’s trying to start her personal harem. Do you think they have those in this version of Equestria?”

Pierre blinked. “I… do you? I mean, what would it mean for us?”

“I really want to avoid thinking about it too deeply, but from what she’s told us, it’s pretty obvious that in the end we’re always bottoms.” Edward sighed, rubbing his forehead with one of his hooves.

“I don’t like that phrasing...”

“Heh, you wouldn’t. For someone who speaks the language of love, you really are a bit too reserved. If I were a wiser man, I’d assume it was some sort of reaction to repressed events from your younger years, but that’s just me.” Shaking his head, Ed walked past his friend and toward a nearby window. “All jokes aside, what life would that even be? Hell, I’m not even sure what life is expected for us, period.”

Yet, even as he said it, he already could hear their voices and their words. Making sacrifices… buck and raise...The never ending cycle….

If it came down to that, would they conform? Did they even have a choice to begin with?

His heart speeding within his chest, Pierre’s spiral into darkness ended in a burst of fear. “We need to find out more about this.”

One thing he knew for sure was that he did not like it in the slightest.

--

It was, all things considered, a nice and cozy little neighborhood. Peaceful, if such a thing existed in Ponyville, and out of the way of the main street. Houses had been built at a comfortable distance from one another, and although they share a certain style, this one’s façade was a unusual - though pleasant - shade of orange. At the front, a row of flower beds sent a nice fragrance through the air, something that made it easier to wait next to the bright red wooden door.

The very same door that opened up to let out a peeking grey bicorn’s head. One whose expression turned grim at the sight of a certain guardpony. “Huh, and here we were under the impression we would not have a tin can following us today.”

“Princess Twilight has temporarily requested I stand guard for some time.” Officer Chainmail glanced at the two stallions while they left the house, shifting in his position to place himself in their path.

“Why am I not surprised?” Pierre sighed, his eyes going to the ground.

“...We are allowed to take another walk in town, right?”

The reply came shortly, spoken stiffly with a nod. “As long as you are escorted, yes.”

A look of great anger passed over Edward’s face, as his eyes narrowed and his lips almost curled into a snarl. His whole body tense, Pierre could have sworn he would punch their bodyguard in the face and things would devolve in a blur of grey and orange.

His tone deadly cold, the British bicorn only growled, “That’s fine, I always enjoy feeling like a criminal when I take a walk.”

Taking notice of his charges rather hostile reaction, the guard merely stood silent not wanting to agitate the stallion any further.

With a huff, Edward went past him, quickly followed by a wary Pierre. Barely seconds later, Bronze Chainmail’s hoofsteps resonated behind them. The sound, albeit only different from the weight a musclebound guard had, racked at their nerves. It was just an obvious reminder of everything they had started to fear. As such, it was not surprising that they pretended not to notice and looked to their surroundings with impressive attention instead.

But, after every corner they took, every street they trotted on, an unusual detail started to stand out.

“Hey, Edward...” Pierre whispered, looking a little worried. “Is it just me or there aren’t many ponies around?”

And indeed, though there were some ponies walking to their own affairs, the streets felt strangely barren. Even with as few memories of the town he had, Edward found the difference notable. “Perhaps they’re just home, or at work. It’s not like we have any idea if this a work day or a weekend. Assuming ponies have those to begin with.”

There was a dismissive wave, and that was the end of that. Their chaperone himself had not commented on the issue, so it could reasonably be just a bout of paranoia. Still, mayhaps subconsciously, they accelerated, lingering as little as possible through the town. In no time, they were back at the library.

They knocked thrice, a little loudly because of their poor coordination, yet nopony or nodrake came to answer. All three stallions stood in front of the wooden door awkwardly, waiting for some sort of sign.

“Say,” Edward pondered, massaging his forehead in annoyance, “is the library supposed to be closed right now?”

“As Princess Twilight is the leader of the Elements of Harmony, the library might be closed on short notice with no explanation.” The guard shrugged. “That might be the reason for it.”

“Just great...”

“And there is no way to know where she went?” Pierre asked, optimistically.

“I’m afraid not,” the officer replied with a shake of his head.

With no further ideas, they resolved to go ‘home’.

--

They sky over the horizon was turning orange by the time Pierre put his hoof on the doorknob to their new house. Without ceremony, he pushed it open and entered, followed by Edward.

Instantly, the two stallions realized that something was amiss.

They had only taken a few steps into the hallway that they could barely see in front of themselves. How could it be so dark in here? Though the sun was setting, there should still be plenty of lights to see. They hadn’t even closed the curtains when they left...

Looking down, they noticed that even their own bodies were difficult to see, as even the light pouring from outside shrunk. The door had closed. In the following seconds, Edward’s ears perked up with the noise of shuffling around, even something strangely similar to hoofsteps.

Wait… he recognized that scenario. There was only one possibility, and it seemed his suspicions were confirmed when he heard the click of a light switch. Bracing himself, ears flattening against his skull, he half expected to be blown off his hooves from the sheer volume.

The house was filled with light, and in that split second, a few dozens of ponies spoke in unison.

“Surprise.”

Silence filled the room.

The two bicorns were left blinking, awkwardly looking at the crowd of ponies that had whispered the word to them.

“Well, that was kind of… underwhelming,” Pierre replied with a hoof scratching the back of his head.

“Try just plain sad,” Edward scoffed. “I’ve seen mutes who can shout louder than that, how pathetic.”

The crowd’s good mood seemed to deflate slightly from the brit’s blunt narration. Many looked away from the guests of honor, yet very few seemed actually angry at the stallion’s ungrateful attitude. If anything, a wave of unease rippled throughout the party goers, leaving the room in a state of awkward disarray.

A fact toward which Pierre was growing increasingly conscious of. “Non, non, c’était… I mean, it was alright. Just that, normally, the volume is a tad higher than this.”

There was a movement from the assembled ponies, as they parted open and a familiar mare stumbled over. “Oh, we couldn’t risk startling you so badly!” Fluttershy exclaimed almost loudly, to their surprise. Her caretaking instincts had apparently overcame her shyness, as she continued with a tender smile for them, “That would have been irresponsible.”

“Yes…” Edward replied slowly. “Because fun is truly a deadly force indeed. Every party has a pooper...but this is just ridiculous.”

Hurt by the obvious displeasure, the poor mare flinched. A blush started to cover her face, and suddenly her courage was faltering. “We were hoping… ” she squeaked, “just have fun!”

“Huh, listen, I’m not trying to hurt your feelings, but there is no arguing the reception was rather weak,” Edward tried to explain, only to realise his target in question had already disappeared into the crowd of guests. He’d have tried finding her, but between the wide variety of colors sported by the many ponies, going from dark grey to light beige, Fluttershy did not truly stand out.

And while the crowd began to disperse through the house, a reddish hoof fell on his shoulder. “Well, it should do us good to relax a bit, Ed,” Pierre said with a tentative smile. “Let’s try to enjoy ourselves.”

There was something impressive with how much work had gone into the decorations. They could barely recognize the living room that they had first seen a few hours ago. The streamers, the balloons, the confettis; they all combined into a complete makeover of the relatively limited space to make it lively.

Most of the guests seemed to think so, from what they could gather out of the many compliments and comments they got on their lovely home. Everypony seemed to have something to say to them, it was nuts. Questions after questions came about their origins and their accents, then about themselves in general. To those, Edward strove to answer with quick, blunt, and honest answers. Yet each time, it was apparent that the others only nodded out of indulgence. However, nothing made the two cringe more than a mare that had taken Pierre’s hoof to praise his courage.

When it came to the other stallions though, there was always a hint of something… different. Their comments had the same content – congratulations and the likes –, but never quite felt quite as sincere. One could have sworn there was a hint of disdain behind those smiles.

At some point, Pierre had simply came out and asked the nearest guest where the bowl of (hopefully alcohol) punch was. The mare in question, a beige earth pony with a red and pink mane, started sputtering as if he had propositioned to her. Between two coughs, she reluctantly pointed toward the table the refreshments were at. Gently, he patted her back until her breathing was back to normal, and with a smile, he headed in the direction she had pointed with Edward.

Upon their arrival, they joined the concession of other partygoers seeking to clench their thirst. Tellingly, there was easily a third of the attendees gathered around that long red table. Laughters floated in the air, and the ponies all seemed content.

But, as Pierre trotted forward, he inadvertently pushed one stallion. “Sorry,” he said, and others suddenly realized that the bicorns were there.

Noise died out near the table, as ponies exchanged concerned gazes with one another and coughed in their hooves in embarrassment. Pierre instinctively tried to back away, feeling the part of an intruder. And the logic boggled his mind. Wasn’t this supposed to be their welcoming party? Why the fuss then?

Hesitant, he looked back to Edward, who appeared primely unimpressed. “We can always make tea in the kitchen if you’re that chicken, frenchie.”

A low grunt rising from his throat, Pierre turned, and saw with horror that the other ponies seemed to approve strongly. Deciding with a mental bout of swearing to just ignore them all, he reached through the small wall of ponies for a cup, only to meet Colgate’s gaze. As if shocked out of her daze, she opened her mouth, her blue hoof posed for him to stop, but ultimately no sound came out.

With his cup firmly held in his hooves, none of them dared vocalize their thoughts. Grimly satisfied, Pierre made a point to down the punch and fill it again. From Edward’s direction came a muffled chortled of laughter, and this time, the French bicorn took it in stride. Pridefully, they left those guests to their own device.

Eventually, they settled in their own little corner, weathering through the event as well as they could.

“Shame there’s so little alcohol in the punch,” Pierre said, taking another sip from his cup. Though the taste in itself was fine, if a little too sweet for his taste, he found himself regretting the comforting warmth of a good vintage.

At his side, it seemed as if similar thoughts went through Edward’s mind as he did not partake in the punch at all. “Had I known this was a ‘bring your beer’ kind of party, I would have looked around town for a brewery.”

His reply made Pierre snort in bitter amusement. “You think they would have let us buy any?”

“Who said anything about buying? With how lenient the law is, I’d just walk out with it.”

This time, Pierre’s reaction was to narrow his eyes at him. A joking gesture, most likely, but there was just enough suspicion behind that gaze to annoy him, slightly. The Frenchie would never really get under his skin.

“Not that I would. I’m no common thief, have some faith, my friend.”

Before he could express further defense of his honor, they were interrupted. Loudly.

“Hey! The stallions of the hour!” came a slurred exclamation.

Surprised, both bicorns turned in direction of the near shout, only to realize that for some ponies at least, the party was well underway.

Tipsy, cheeks reddened and his eyes half glazed over by the effect of alcohol, Caramel put a hoof around their necks. “Those are my stallions!” He laughed. “Oh Celestia’s sweet flanks, you two are sooooooo lucky, you know that? What I wouldn’t give to be a bicorn.”

“Oh, allez, mon pote, don’t say that,” Pierre said, trying to push him away gently. “It’s not like we’re better than you.”

“Sure have it better though...” they heard.

Without them noticing, Thunderlane had come close enough to hear every word. And a bitter grimace was stretched unto his face.

Edward’s muzzle scrunched up at the open hostility displayed. “What was that?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing.” The dark stallion mockingly waved a hoof in front of himself. “Wouldn’t want to bother one of you little dolls. That’d be terrible, right?”

“Listen you shit-faced wanka, if you got something to say, then bloody say it. I’m more than enough ‘stallion’ to put your feathered butt on the ground.” Ed snorted, slowly closing the distance between him and his antagonizer.

Thunderlane rose to the challenge. The two stallions glared daggers at one another, muzzles only a few feet of distance apart. Edward’s head lowered, his horns suddenly seeming much more threatening. Thunderlane’s feathers shivered, and he became more imposing. One gray hoof pawed at the ground, then one black one did the same.

But the tension was broken when Caramel drunkenly staggered between them and passed one leg around each their necks. The smell of alcohol came in unpleasant strength from his breath, making them scrunch up their muzzles. More fidgety than aggressive now, they tried to untangle themselves from him, but he was rather tenacious.

“What’s up, Thunderlane?” the brown earth pony asked, half grinning. “Your marefriend’s pissed with you again?”

“Shut up, Caramel!” Thunderlane growled, a faint darker color creeping on his face.

“Jealous they get tails?”

For a second, the pegasus seemed to shake with anger, his mouth twisted in a snarl. He loomed over Caramel, butting head with him and almost rearing. Yet, just as it had become clear things might come to blows, Thunderlane relaxed. His wings folded, a deep breath left his lips, and he closed his eyes. With a scoff and a curse, he trotted away, soon followed by Caramel who didn’t seem all that aware of where he was anymore.

Pierre and Edward exchanged a baffled look.

First Rainbow Dash, now this? What is it with bicorns? Are we extremely desirable or something?

“That.. wasn’t very pleasant.”

“No, and I have a feeling that’s linked to the rest of this bollocks we’ve been getting about being half-goats,” Edward growled, feeling his mood plummeting with every minute he spent at this terrible imitation of a party. And such sentiment grew stronger with the sight of a familiar mare.“Speaking of bollocks, here comes the queen of bollocks herself.”

“Ah! You’re here!” Their ‘favorite’ alicorn exclaimed with relief. “I’ve been looking for the chance to talk to you two on your own all evening long. You're certainly popular!”

Twilight’s arrival brought a jaded grin to Edward’s face and, to his surprise, Pierre found himself in agreement with the sentiment. Though he did not quite blame her, he had come to associate her somewhat innocent comments as preludes to much more sinister things.

“See, I know it’s not the perfect occasion to tell you this, but I fear I would not have the time to do this at all.”

The two stallions merely exchanged a quick glance of shared confusion before they turned back to Twilight and signaled for her to continue. They hoped that at the very least it would hold some semblance at helping the turmoil they’d been in since they’d arrived. They however were not ready for what came next.

“I know, I know, this is pure speculation,” she explained sheepishly even as she offered them small documents. “But you weren’t exactly forthcoming with the information I needed, so I had to make due. Emmm… t-there is a tendency for stallions in your age group to look forward to herds rather than the donation centers.”

They felt a heavy stone fall into their stomachs. The way she was speaking… No, there was just no way… It couldn’t be like that. Obviously, this was simply an awkward attempt at telling them to enjoy Ponyville while it lasted.

The documents, though official, were simply the… the personal information… of two mares...

“In any case,” Twilight continued dutifully in spite of her reddened cheeks, “I’ve looked through the profiles available and found two mares that seem to be compatible with you. I’ve already arranged the dates, no need to worry, everything is taken care of, you only need to wait until tomorrow.”

Had their bodies not been nailed in place by fear, they would have throttled her.