Rocky Road

by Midnightshadow

Rating: teen
Tags: Twilight Sparkle, Applejack, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Romance, Original Character, Caramel, Big Macintosh, Adventure, Sex
Length: 9351

Sometimes it's hard to fit in. Sometimes it takes something taken away to find out what you have.

Rocky is a bad stallion. He's a bully and a brute, but one day he finally crosses the line at a club where good times can be had, for a price.

The price he'll pay for his actions, however, will send his life into turmoil. Left to pick up the pieces, what can he make of himself now?

Note: The first scene (you'll know which one) has some rather... sensitive parts, but that's the extent of it all. The rest of the story covers some adult scenes, so don't show this to the little 'uns.

Published 2011-10-25 16:40:39 UTC
Last updated 2011-10-25 19:32:29 UTC

The Rocky Road

The Rocky Road

an MLP:FiM shipfic by Midnight Shadow

Hooves flashed and teeth gnashed, tails whipped and the air was full of the solid meaty sounds of ponies fighting. Ponies never fight, not normally, but these were “extenuating circumstances” as the slow-talking but hardly slow of thinking Big Daddy Mac would say.

It was over relatively quickly, the battered and bruised grey earth pony lay wheezing on the floor, bleeding from the nostrils. He spat on the ground, “fuck you.”

“Son, I warned you ‘bout my girls. Snowbell had mighty purty teeth, you went an’ broke’m. You shouldn’t’ve done that.”

One of the unicorns in the small, hooded and anonymous group of hired thugs beat him with a cudgel. It knocked the breath out of him, probably cracked a rib.

“Fuck you,” he managed to squeeze out when the stars had gone from his vision, “she was a fucking whore. A dirty, filly-fooling, foal-fiddling whore and I’ll gut her and you all like fish next...next time.” His head fell back, exhausted, but he felt triumphant. The dirty nag had laughed at him when he couldn’t...he squeezed his eyes shut, she’d asked if he’d really wanted...he struggled to get up, now they’d done their bit they’d leave him be to lick his wounds and...

“You shouldn’t have said that,” said a voice of steel, “hold him down, boys.”

Sudden weight, something covering his head...his eyes, if they’d been visible, would have been white and rolling with fear.

“Now I gotta make an’xample of you.”

They wouldn’t...he was...they...

There was a sudden feeling of cold iron against skin, most private skin, and his world exploded. His screams were muffled and he could hardly breathe, he jerked, taught and hard from the pain, but before he could even recover there was a second sickening crunch and his stomach heaved.

The weights left his body and he curled up into a fetal position, whimpering.

“Ok, wipe his memory and ‘port his sorry ass out of here. Take just enough of his memory, I don’t want him a drooling idiot, I want him to remember what he did, what we did to him, and I want him to live with it for a long time, but I don’t want him here ever again.”

The voice turned to him, “You’ll not remember us, Sonny, neither will you remember her name, but you’ll never touch another filly like that again, we made sure.”

The last thing he felt and heard, before fireworks went off in his brain and the ponies who had given him a beating and emasculated him faded into nothing but shadows in his mind, before the world whirled and spat him out in some street in some city somewhere else in Equestria, was their laughter,

“Hey, hey...it’s Rocky’s mountain oysters for lunch.”

***

He hurt. He was alone. He was lost. He whimpered, curled up, sobbing, half-dead from pain and fear, bruised and battered body throbbing with agony. He remembered a filly, a filly-foolin’ filly at that, and his shame when he couldn’t...and the flash of his hooves, the meaty sound of hoof and jaw, her cry, the sound of tooth chips hitting the wall. He looked down at the offending hoof, still bloodied. She’d deserved it, the whore, she’d deserved everything...

But maybe, said a little voice in his head, so did you. He wanted to die.

“Hey, hey buddy! You okay?”

It took him a while to realise the voice was talking to him. He opened his eyes to see a lithe yellow pegasus filly looking down at him in concern.

“what happened to you?” she asked, “looks bad - I’ll get you to a nurse.”

“No,” he croaked, struggling to get up, “no nurse, no doctor, no hospital...”

“Woah there, mister, you’ll hurt yourself more...”

“I’ll...I’ll live,” he said, getting to his hooves unsteadily. Standing hurt. Breathing hurt. Walking was worse, but walk he did, at least until he reached a building and he leaned gratefully against the wall.

“What the fuck happened to you, bud?” she said as she saw the extent of his injuries.

“Some...guys,” he struggled to remember, and like a sudden flash of migraine he remembered the kick that had split the whore’s mouth, broke her teeth, her frightened sobs, his anger...and then them. Like poking the hole of a just-lost tooth though, he could remember no details. Where had it been? Who...he couldn’t even remember the face of that nag, laughing at him. He couldn’t remember the faces of those who...oh Celestia what did they do to me? he thought to himself, and fainted.

“Looks like they did a number on you...well one of these day’s I’ll learn.”

***

He woke with a start, still hurting, but...the pain was numbed. Somepony had bandaged his ribs, tended his cuts and bruises. He looked around, a standard pony apartment; the walls were cheery pastel hues, green, blue, pink. He’d never been a pastel pony. The window was open, letting in the sounds of a bustling city as well as copious amounts of sunshine.

“Ah, you’re awake. How are you this morning?”

“Where am I?” Rocky asked the filly, who was busy preparing a dandelion and burdock salad, which she presented to him where he lay on a mattress on the floor.

“My house!” came the simple answer as she turned back to clean the workbench.

“Our apartment.” said another voice, a unicorn stomped through the wide doorways, he was a deep burning orange all over, with blue highlights in his mane and tail that seemed to twinkle in the light.

The pegasus stuck her tongue out at the unicorn, but he stomped right up to her and nipped her on the butt. She playfully slapped him with a wing, “you remember what happened last night? I mean, this is Califoalia, it’s...that sort of thing doesn’t usually happen. I’m Cloud Weaver, and this is my partner, Auburn Light. Can you tell us what happened, who did this to you?”

Partner - the word reverberated around his skull, and he blinked. The filly...wasn’t a filly. She was a colt.

“Colt Clopper...” he whispered, “Foal Fiddler!”

“Oh no, they didn’t? They beat you up for that? I thought we were past that.”

Rocky kept his mouth shut, he was...they hadn’t recognized him yet. Maybe they wouldn’t - Califoalia, that was halfway across Equestria!

“He must’ve picked up the wrong stallion - you’ve gotta be new in town, there’s always a few making trouble, like those ridiculous “Foal’s First” crowd. They go cruising for unsuspecting stallions and fillies, get ‘em to follow them to somewhere secluded and then go to town on them. Vicious bastards. I’d like to kick their teeth in, every last one.”

“Now now,” said Weaver, “you know what Celestia has to say about that.”

“Yeah yeah, tolerance and love. I’d just like...” Auburn gritted his teeth, grinding them, “I’d like to show them some love and tolerance. I never thought they’d go that far as to geld one of us against his wishes though.”

Rocky’s ears flicked back, he looked down at the floor, one of us...if only he knew.

“I’m not much of a doctor, I’m a cook, it’s Weaver here who can brandish the needle when needed.”

That goddamn foal-fiddling filly-fake! Touching me, I bet he...

“There wasn’t much to do,” said Weaver, “you didn’t want to go to a doctor, I don’t blame you, although you should. Whoever...whoever did the job knew what they were doing at least. You’ll be sore, very sore, for a few days but eat some birch bark extract and you’ll be fine. I was, after all.”

“Why...” squeaked Rocky, trying to get his voice under control, “why did you?”

Weaver laughed, a bright pealing laugh, “like I’m ever going to have kids with Auburn here. It’s what I wanted. I hated being so moody and anti-social.”

Auburn gave his partner a withering look, which Weaver ignored, “so, one day, after I knew Auburn was for me, I just...decided. He says I smell better now, something about hormone changes, but I think it’s just I take better care of myself.”

“It’s not something we encourage, in addition to putting up with the lies like being called foal fiddler and blank flank spanker,” said Auburn, “there’s no going back, and once you’ve had the crunch it’s like a badge, like your cutie-mark. You can’t really hide it. It needs to be a decision taken very seriously, which is why it boils my blood that this happened to you, just because you’re gay.”

“I...” if he’d been any stronger he’d have snapped, given the game away, as it was he could barely move without pain for his lost appendages.

“Well you rest up, we’ll be downstairs in the shop,” said Weaver brightly, “I’ll be packing fudge.”

***

He hated them, he hated their house. He hated their lives. He hated their...it took Rocky a few days to realise, but he hated their happiness. They weren’t anything like he imagined. They slept together in their disgusting way, but not once did they make a move on him. There was no public, gross indecency, no lewd artwork, no twenty-four-hour porn. Weaver kept the apartment clean and neat, Auburn did most of the cooking, and they played ridiculous card games and watched movies.

He planned his escape, such as it were. The front-door was right there. He could leave whenever he wanted. Into the wide world, where everypony could see his public shame.

So he stayed, and he learnt to play ‘crazy eights’ and ‘canasta’, watched documentaries with them on the plight of starving manticores subject to a parasprite plague. Eventually he felt stronger, and helped around the house. He even tried his hand at cooking, but Auburn was so tetchy about getting things just right that he didn’t do much more than make an occasional salad under Weaver’s tutelage. He swept the shop with broom in mouth and occasionally handled the till.

The shop was a small one, specializing in sweets, cakes and pastries. The clientelle were as diverse as could be expected in such a bustling metropolis as Califoalia. When he noticed that many ponies were coming in clutching a coffee in their mouth and struggling to hold their pastry order, he begged the old coffee machine from upstairs and started selling coffee with the pastries every morning. Pretty soon Auburn noticed, snorted and stormed out. He returned later with a moving truck, in which was several tables and sets of chairs. And a new coffee machine.

Rocky felt proud, for the first time in his life. He stood outside in the park, in the now-autumn sunlight, drinking a small cup of coffee. It took him a few minutes to realise he’d not been outside in weeks, and he marvelled at how easy it was.

Several bright flashes brought him out of his reverie, lightning? He wondered, and looked about but saw nothing. What he did notice was a steady stream of ponies heading past the shop wearing outlandish hats, harnesses and other paraphrenalia. Some of it involved feathers.

“What’s going on?” he called, and a filly...no, another gelding, he’d learnt to spot the signs by now, clopped up, laughing, “don’t tell me you didn’t know about the carnival?”

“What carnival?”

“The Pride Rally - it started years ago for ponies like you...and me...” the gelding giggled, “now it’s just one big party, fun for everyone. You must be new here, come on!”

Rocky gulped down the last of the coffee, and breathed deeply. It couldn’t hurt, could it? He ran across the park and popped his head inside the shop door, “I’m off to the carnival! Want to come?”

Weaver and Auburn shook their heads, “Not yet, we’ve got the afternoon rush that will be along soon. You go, we’ll come after. The festivities last all night, after all.”

“Okay, seeya.” Rocky’s...friend had waited, and he dragged him enthusiastically into the crowds. Rocky had never seen anything like it. His emotions warred - there was music and dancing, skimpy clothing, extravagant glam, many of the things that had disgusted him - had, he realised, not did any more - were on display.

“Why,” he shouted to his friend, revealed as Summer Sparkles, “do you do...this? I mean...all that...that...on display?”

“Because,” his friend shouted back over the din, “because we’re not like that, but we needed to show that we’re here, and we’re not going anywhere. That’s my call, anyway - shock therapy! Isn’t it fun!”

And it was fun, Rocky realised, despite the ‘lewd debauchery’ as his old self would have called it. It was all for show, a carnival. Ponies brought their foals, who ran around giggling and screaming, eating candyfloss and playing games. The streets were closed, or closing, and everywhere was streamers and banners and confetti. He was given a bead necklace, and he even wore it. The music was loud, the talking and laughing was louder, and above all it was amazing.

He was still dancing lightly on his hooves as he headed back to the shop, but stopped short when he saw Auburn, and Weaver behind him. Weaver was troubled, Auburn was a stormcloud.

“So, Rock Breaker, just when were you planning to tell us about you and your damned foals first buddies, huh? Before or after you burned down our shop?” Auburn bristled, he threw a newspaper to the ground in front of the shocked gelding. Beneath the headline “FOALS FIRST FLAKE NOW FOAL FIDDLER” was the article, “...Today our intrepid reporter has finally located the missing head of the New Fillydelphia ‘Foals First’ chapter, and we can see why he went into hiding. Now a post-op love-muffin for cash, the hard-up...”

Rocky couldn’t read much more, he skimmed it, all lies, innuendo and accusations.

Weaver stuck his head out, wings half-open, “you...you lied to us.”

“You’re a fucking bigot. You’re a lying, conniving, vicious little thug. You’re fucking Rock Breaker, head of the fucking New Fillydelphia chapter for Celestia’s sake, and you damn well sit on your fat bigot behind in MY HOUSE and expect sympathy!”

“I...” Rocky tried to explain, he backed up, tail between his legs, “I...”

“Get. Out.” Auburn stamped his hoof and bared his teeth, pawing the ground.

“I’m...I’m sorry,” Rocky pulled the necklace off with a hoof and threw it to the floor, where it burst, spreading multi-coloured beads all over the pavement, before he turned and fled, hot tears from his eyes.

Auburn stomped back inside, Weaver watched him go.

***

Rocky ran, he didn’t know where to and he didn’t care. For the second time in only a few months, he found himself curled up and sobbing in a back-alley, as far from the carnival, from light and life as he could get.

Where had he gone wrong? He wondered, if only they’d never...no, he was finally honest with himself, if only he’d never...

He slumped, now he really, truly had nothing.

“How much, mare?” asked a husky voice from the shadows.

Rocky realised the voice meant him, “I’m...” he sniffed, “I’m not a mare.”

“You think I don’t know that. I’m paying, you’re mare enough.”

“I’m also not for sale.”

“If you’re going to be like that, I won’t be paying.” the stallion moved closer, eagerness and malice showing in every fibre.

“Please no,” said Rocky, backing up

“Always the same, you faggots, always pleading. But you like it rough, really, fucking faggot-ass foal-fiddlers...come here, before I kick your teeth in...”

“No, don’t...” Rocky’s tailed snapped down, his ears went back, his eyes were wide, but the stranger just laughed.

Rocky looked about in the failing light, looking for a way to escape, then his eyes went wide.

The strange stallion snorted, “like that’s going to work...just ease that faggot tail up and it’ll all be over soo-”

The breath was knocked from his body as he was sent flying by a flashing blur of yellow hooves and wings. He crashed against a tree, eyes rolled back, tongue lolling.

“aanndddd yer outta there.” snorted Weaver, skidding to a stop before turning and looking at Rocky, “you wanna come home?”

***

Auburn was angry. His tail lashed and his eyes flashed, “I don’t want him here.”

“If you kick him out,” said the normally passive Cloud Weaver, “you kick me out too.” he stamped his hooves and fluttered his wings angrily, “I don’t care who he was, whatever happened to him, he’s somepony else now.”

“What did happen to you? The more I know the less I like it. Spill the beans, you shit.”

Rocky spoke, looking around the living room above the shop as if for comfort, “I...I wasn’t a very nice person.”

“Still not if you ask me.” snorted Auburn, Weaver kicked him.

“I...whoever I pissed off, they did a real number on me. I...I beat up a filly. Broke her jaw.”

Auburn growled, “ain’t nothing weaker than a stallion ready to beat up a girl.”

“Or a gelding.” said Weaver, meaningfully.

“No, you’re right. I was a coward. She...I...I couldn’t perform. She...she asked me if...if I wanted a colt instead, said it was quite normal. I flipped my shit, I lost it, I...bucked her. She was working at...in...I don’t remember, but these guys...they...made an example of me. Took my...malehood, beat me up, sent me here, wiped my memory. I can’t even apologize! I don’t even remember where I was or what she looked like or who they were or...”

Rocky started crying, Auburn’s gaze softened, slightly, “they made you what you hated most, eh? One of us.”

“I’m just a...a mare now. Not even half a stallion. You should have left me in that alley, Weaver, I deserved it.”

“Nopony deserves that,” said Weaver, “I should know.”

“As if there’s any damned fool reason to believe stallion and stallion, or mare and mare, shouldn’t be together. And I count geldings in that.”

“I...was brought up to believe...the Ecumenical Council said...”

“That old bullpucky? By Celestia’s beard, didn’t you get the memo?” Auburn snorted, again - he did a lot of that - and levitated an old hard-cover bound book off their bookcase. Rocky looked at it beneath his hooves, “The Sayings of Celestia, 400th anniversary edition” was printed on the cover in gold leaf. Auburn, using his magic, flipped it open to page five hundred and twenty two.

“Celestia went on holiday once, incognito, travelling around Equestria.” said Auburn softly, “She was gone for a long time, but she never once failed in her duty to raise the sun and moon. The Ecumenical Council sprung up in her absence, a bunch of stodgy old fogies with more money than sense. They wrote that poisonous treatise on ‘the correct ways of pony living’.”

“Yes, ‘Celestia’s Path’,” said Rocky.

“Aye, the key being in her absence. A few of the things made sense, but a lot of it...just grief. One of those that you and your damned fool foals first buddies latched on to was procreation and the right way of living. Stallion and Mare, Mare and Stallion. Forever and Always. Amen.”

“But...” said Rocky

“But nothing. Celestia returned, read that atrocious piece of trash and ordered every last copy burnt. Read it.”

Rocky read, not believing his eyes. He’d never heard this before! Celestia had disbanded the Ecumenical Council almost immediately when she discovered their transgressions. They’d put words in her mouth, she said, and though it was the hardest thing she’d had to do in about six hundred years she proclaimed the book anathema and set about destroying it. When later asked about some of the teachings, she had simply stated, “what two or more ponies do in the privacy of their own homes just doesn’t need to be discussed publicly, it’s none of your business and it’s certainly none of mine.”

Rocky looked up, tears in his eyes, “Is this true?”

Auburn flipped to the beginning of the book, there on a blank page was a short scribbled note in the most elegant handwriting he had ever seen, it said, “hold fast to the lessons in this book, the true words of my sister - Luna”

Rocky slumped back, lost in a whirl of emotion and memories.

“So, can he stay?” asked Cloud Weaver.

“Well...if what you say...”

“No,” replied Rocky, “no I can’t. I’m not prepared to risk your shop if my...ex-friends...were to show up.”

“Don’t say...please no, it’s like...letting them win.”

“I’ve made my mind up,” said Rocky, and he had. It felt like a huge weight off his shoulders, “I’m going to leave. I need to find myself and I can’t do it here. I thank you, both of you, so much. I was an asshole when I arrived and...I probably deserved what they did to me.”

“Nopony deserves what happened to you.”

“I think he did.” said Auburn under his breath, Weaver shot him a dirty look and clipped him with a wing.

“He might be right,” said Rocky, “but I need to leave. I hope I can come back some time?”

“Anytime!” said Weaver, hopping up and down

“Just give us a little warning.”

“I know they say ‘you can’t go home again’ but I have to try, and then...I have to find where I belong.”

***

Rocky left the next morning with a few supplies in pannier bags, his spirits high. He travelled the open road - not difficult for a pony able to graze where possible and sleep when needed. He eventually found his home town, but his father, ever the stern straight arrow, turned his back on his erstwhile son. He avoided the Foals First crowd when possible and quickly came to the conclusion that whatever life he’d had there was indeed over.

So he turned South East, ambling and wandering, until he found a little town nestled next to a wild, overgrown forest.

“Ponyville,” he said to himself, “I guess I can make a try here.”

He found work in town mending fences, painting houses, wrapping up winter when it came, and eventually settled down. He made few friends, though one red stallion in particular seemed eager to talk to him at first he soon lost interest. He was left pretty much to himself. Eventually he opened a coffee shop in a hollowed-out tree, it wasn’t big, it was nothing special, but it was his. He swept the floor like he’d been taught, and made pretty good coffee. He purchased the pastries from a shop around the corner from his own, however, but at least he could make a good salad.

So he was surprised when he found himself at a bar one night, breathing heavily into a scotch on the rocks.

“Hope you’re going to pay for that.” said the bartender gently

Rocky smiled, “you know I’m good for it, Taps, but okay, I’ll settle up the tab...” He dug about inside his bags for bits, and surprisingly came up with a single, multi-coloured bead. He placed it on the counter, thoughtfully.

He was still sitting looking thoughtfully at it when a voice piped up from next to him, “I’ll have the same, and another one for the...for the mare.”

Rocky flicked an ear, and looked across at a young stallion, trying his best to appear nonchalant, but bristling with youthful nervousness, “you silly colt, I am not a mare.”

“I...er...I know. I was...the bead you see...”

Rocky looked at the bead, and then at his appearance in the mirror behind the bar. Gone were his stocky shoulders and stallion hard edges, they’d been replaced by softer curves and graceful bone structure. His heart fluttered, oh the silly young thing, “you saw that bead, huh?”

“And-and...you’re a...er...”

“Oh, you noticed? How long have you been watching?”

At this, the stallion clammed up, almost too nervous to breath.

“Oh lord, tell me at least he’s old enough for a drink.” said Rocky, rolling his eyes.

The bartender dropped a scotch in front of the blushing stallion in answer, and tried to contain his mirth. Rocky snorted and gave him a withering look.

“So, what? You think you can sit down there, order me a drink and follow me home like a long lost foal?”

The stallion wilted, “I...but...oh this just isn’t working...I’m sorry...I’ll go...”

Rocky watched him bolt for the door in tears before turning back to his drink.

“If I were you, Rocks, I’d not wait too long. I’ll keep the bead as down-payment, the rest will depend on your good behaviour.” said Taps the bartender, gently, and nodded towards the door.

“I was a bit harsh, wasn’t I?”

“Not your fault, first time and all, eh?”

“You can tell that?” said Rocky, blushing.

“I’m a bartender. Now, go!”

Rocky grabbed his things and headed out into the night. He found the stallion sniffling under a tree not far from the door, “come on kid, let’s talk.”

So they talked, Rocky explained as they went about his life - he left a few things out, but not about his bad behaviour, although he didn’t explain his...predicament. They reached Rocky’s front door, “and so kid, you just have to know who you are, what you want. Make sure that whatever you choose, it makes you happy, deep down where head and heart don’t always agree. Goodnight, kid.”

And he stepped through the door and closed it before the surprised stallion could respond.

There was a quiet little clop-clop on the front door and Rocky turned around, he eased it open. Oh Luna, he’s still there, with that daftly cute expression on his face...

“Rocks, I...I think I know who I am and what I want. Can...can I come in now?”

The Straight and Narrow

The Rocky Road

Part 2 - The Straight and Narrow

An MLP:FiM shipfic by Midnight Shadow

***

Caramel trotted through the marketplace with his tail and head held high, a bouquet of flowers held in his mouth. He was practically bouncing in his joyful clip-clopping to his ‘appointment’. He was humming tunelessly as he went, many ponies scrambling to move their wares out of the way of his passage.

He wasn’t a bad pony, but a wee bit clumsy. Sometimes a lot bit clumsy, but today none of that could bring him down. He was going on a date! He’d had his mane cut and coiffured, his almost-ever-present pannier sacks were freshly oiled and waxed and he was in tip-top condition.

“Why if it isn’t young Caramel Apple, out for a stroll!” said a familiar voice, Caramel screeched to a halt and blinked, looking around. Sure enough, there was AJ at her apple stall, hawking for all she was worth. He blushed, he’d...hadn’t he arranged to meet..? Oh no...he’d picked the wrong restaurant, the right one was on the other side of town...

“Whassa matter? Cat got yer tongue? If’n it does, tis prolly Rarity’s cat. I swear, that Opal...”

“Ah, er, hi AJ, ni-nice to see you here!”

AJ blinked, “ooohhhh, I get it!” She click-clicked her teeth and winked, “you’ve up’n got yerself a filly! Hoo-wee I was all gettin’ hot’n’bothered ‘bout you’n’all. Who’s the lucky lady? Fine bunch o’flowers you got there. Mighty purty, mighty tasty. Don’t you eat none!”

Caramel’s ears flicked back in embarassment, “I, er, my date...”

“Caramel?” Said another voice, and AJ watched as a grey earth pony filly trotted up gracefully to Caramel, giving him a quick nuzzle on the cheek, “you made it!”

That’s a mighty deep voice for a... AJ stopped, the apple she was idly polishing falling to the ground and rolling under the table. She quickly followed it, ducking out of sight, our Caramel...with a...does he know? Oh Luna...how do I tell him he...wait...no, he can’t be that dumb can he? But?

AJ stood up, apple in her lips held carefully, she smiled awkwardly, “Caramel!” she said shortly, brightly, “This is?”

Caramel blushed, and looked like he was about to bolt, breathing heavily. He dropped the flowers in panic, looking left and right, “AJ, I, er, this is...I can...explain.”

“Caramel,” said Rocky, “it’s okay, sshhh, it’s ok. Breath, breath you silly pony.”

Rocky turned to AJ, “yes, hi, I’m Rocky...Rocky Road,” he’d decided upon the minor deception a while ago, but hadn’t had much chance to use it, “I’ve been in town a while but we haven’t really met. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”

AJ was flustered, “li-likewise ‘m sure...ni-nice to meetcha.”

“Thank you. We’ll be going now. On our date. Together.” Rocky looked back over his shoulder with every sentence as he alternated between that and attempting to get the petrified Caramel moving. The silly pony was almost hyperventilating, eyes wide. Rocky bent to pick up the flowers and nodded goodbye once again.

AJ blinked, her heavy hat fell off and spilled a whole bucket of apples, but it took several seconds for her to even notice, “Caramel...and Rocky. Rocky’s a sta- a ge-gelding. And Caramel’s a Colt Clopper. OH MY STARS CARAMEL’S A COLT CLOPPER...BBIIIGGGG MAAACCCCC!!”

***

“I’m dead, I’m doomed. She’s gonna kill me. She’ll get Big Mac, he’ll kill me twice. What have I done?”

Rocky sighed, his ears went back. They were sat outside in the sun but it still felt chilly. He looked at the poor fool stallion, and his heart melted again, “Car’mel,” he said around the dandelion leaves from the delicious bouquet, “you didn’t think you could get away with never telling anypony?”

Caramel’s ears went back too, he shook his head, then nodded.

Rocky smiled despite the situation, “what, you were going to keep me as your secret, clandestine lover? Whom you only met in broad daylight for dates in the park and at busy restaurants?”

Caramel nodded, blushing, that adorable silly expression on his face. Rocky sighed, “oh Caramel, what are we going to do, eh? If AJ’s your friend, If Big Mac is your friend - he’s the big red one, right? - Then they’ll understand. A wise pony once said, ‘thems that mind don’t matter, and thems that matters don’t mind’.”

“But...but...I didn’t want it to come out like this!”

“I’m sorry, Caramel, that was my fault,” Rocky turned to the flowers again, they were the first such gift he’d ever received, they were perfect. It broke his heart to even think what he was going to say next, but he said it, “Caramel...if you want...we can go our separate ways. You-you can say it was a trick, a joke.”

Caramel’s head snapped up, and he slammed a hoof on the table, almost sending it flying, “No! No! Don’t you dare! I-I-I won’t let you. I’ll find you. I found y-you before and I’d find you again. I...I want this. With you. Us.”

“Really?” asked Rocky, ears rising eagerly.

“Really.” said Caramel, and he leaned forwards, across the table, his firm stallion lips meeting Rocky’s softer more feminine cheek, their hooves entwined, and they kissed, tenderly...and ended up on the floor, the table-top slipping over and sending the bouquet flying along with the two lovers. They lay there on the floor for a moment, and then both started laughing as they picked up the pieces.

There was a clatter of hooves, “Car’mel! You git on up here and speak with me’n Big Mac this second, y’hear?” came a stern voice. Applejack was glaring down at them, coat lathered from running and cowpony hat cocked at an angle. Big Mac wasn’t far behind her, huffing up a storm and pawing the ground.

“I’ll handle this,” said Caramel, steeling himself. The thought that he could lose Rocky spurring him onwards. He rougishly gave Rocky another peck on the cheek before clambering to his hooves, “I’m listenin’ AJ. Mornin’ Big Mac.”

“What’s all this ah hear ‘bout you canoodlin’ with some Colt Clopper?” said Big Mac to Caramel, angrily.

“He aint no Colt Clopper, Big Mac, an’ I thank yew fer not using them words around me nor him.” said Caramel, lapsing into a thick accent in his anger.

Big Mac blinked, the Caramel he knew was a nervous, clumsy little foal of a stallion. Obviously this Colt Cloppin’ ne’er’do’well had enchanted him with his wily ways, “now you listen here Son, I’ll have none of this. T’ain’t the way things is done ‘round here, y’see, and...”

“Wait, wait...” Caramel tilted his head, looking up and down his forelegs, before checking out his flank. He spun in place first left, then right, “no, no, no...not there...huh...”

“Car’mel,” said AJ, “just what in tarnation are you doin’?”

“Well, way I see it, I’m lookin’ for the brand on my body that says ‘this here pony belongs to Sweet Apple Acres’, but cross me if’n I can’t find it. Can you help look, AJ, cos you ‘n’ Big Mac seem so sure it’s there.” He glared at them, tail flicking angrily.

Big Mac pawed the ground, “don’t you give me none of that lip, Caramel, you might not be my boy nor our ma’n pa’s boy but I reckon I can still give you a whoopin’.”

At that, Rocky sprung up, standing between AJ, Big Mac and Caramel, “you will NOT touch him. I will NOT let you do that. He’s smaller than you, weaker. Hell, I’m smaller and weaker, and you think you can just make him do what you want, give him a beating, split...split his lip and break his teeth?” Rocky shook his head, tears springing to his eyes, “I’ll never let you do that, I’ll die first. He’s...he’s my stallion, he ain’t your punching-bag!”

“Y’all his mare, I reckon!” spat AJ.

He turned to her and glared, “isn’t that obvious?” he hissed, turning his backside and all but cocking his leg to show beneath his haunches, “you don’t get this done if you aint...and I’ll tell you what else ain’t, this ain’t none of your business, or are you going to give me a beat-down in the middle of the street?”

Big Mac stopped pawing the ground and he looked around, there was quite a crowd now, and he shook himself, memories of a time not so long ago, could this really be..?

“You get away from him and come home with us, you-” tried AJ.

“AJ,” said Big Mac softly, then again louder, “AJ, this ain’t right. The boy’s a full-grown stallion. He can make his own mind up, I reckon, even if his own mind says he’s a Colt Clopper.”

“But Big Mac...t’ain’t...”

“AJ, don’t you t’ain’t me none, ya hear? You might run the farm, but you’re still my li’l sister. Hop along there, home. You leave this to me.”

Big Mac watched her go, stamping his hooves and pointing when she tried to stop, before turning back to Rocky, “Mister, I dun rightly agree none with you’n our Caramel bein’ like this, but I swear you this on my gran-mama’s hooves, that if you make our Caramel cry, you’ll wish you’d never been foaled.”

Rocky snorted, “Big Mac is it? I’ve seen you around. I don’t know why you don’t like me, I’ve hardly even met you before, but Caramel here asked me out. I tried my hardest to shake him off, and he wouldn’t leave. Didn’t you see him this morning, if you’re so close?”

Big Mac thought for a moment, and did have to agree that Caramel had had a little something extra in his step the last few weeks, and said as much.

“Aye, that something was me. And I don’t know where we’re going in life, but I do know this, you can’t wrap him up in cotton wall and keep him in the closet.” Rocky looked hard and long at Caramel, then gave him a kiss on the nose. Turning back to Big Mac he said, “I wasn’t the one making him upset this morning, that was all down to you and your sister Applejack, to think he thought he couldn’t count on you to stand up for him. He can count on that, can’t he?”

Big Mac looked from the older gelding to the younger stallion and back again, then he nodded, “I think the boy’s made his mind up. Eeeeyup.”

With that, Big Mac turned around and clopped off.

Caramel’s knees buckled and he dropped to the ground in a crouch, “oh Luna what have I done...”

Rocky shook his head after the retreating red stallion, and turned to Caramel, “taken your first few steps, the way I see it. Now, how about that dinner? After that magnificent bouquet, I think it’s my treat.”

***

It was another fine day, Rocky stepped downstairs in his treehouse coffee-shop carefully and opened the door. He sniffed. Somebody had left him a present again. He sighed, and went to fetch the bucket and mop.

Ever since that day a few weeks ago with the big blowup about Caramel, he’d been getting trouble. First it had been little things, like too much food ordered, or cutlery going missing. then it had moved to rotten vegetables dumped over his terrace. It almost made him want to break down and cry, but every morning he would clean the tiles and sweep the floors, set out his tables and chairs and the customers would come. He even had regulars, and Mister and Misses Cake snuck him a few extra pieces of pie like they did for Bright Eyes, their delivery-mare. He guessed they figured he needed it. It warmed his heart, simple gestures meant a lot.

He figured the negative attention would soon stop, but that day would only get worse. The trouble started around midday - two plain looking ponies from out of town stood outside his shop and handed out leaflets, crude printing jobs. They wouldn’t look him in the eye but would harrass every passer by and it was keeping his customers from enjoying their coffee. It carried on the next day, and the next. Finally he plucked up enough courage to confront them. This would have been so much easier...before, he thought to himself, then again, I probably would have done something stupid. Like this.

As he neared them, he recognized their screed. He’d figured they were with one of the few “Celestia’s Path” type groups, but his heart sunk when he realised it was worse than that. They were with Foals First.

He stopped, the wind quite taken out of his sails. It took the arrival of Caramel, and Big Mac, to snap him out of his reverie.

“Read the good words, sir?” asked one of the two, a lime green female pegasus with a compass cutie-mark, trying to hand Caramel a flier.

Caramel took one look at it and purposefully ate it, “when it comes back out, you’ll know what I think of it.” he said, and barged past the startled filly.

“You can turn back now from this path, to the True Path, to Celestia’s Path, she hasn’t forsaken you. She loves you as she loves all of us, she doesn’t want you to waste your life like this, it’s not natural and it is against Her Natural Law.”

Caramel whirled, and it took Rocky’s sudden leap, grabbing onto his tail to stop him from biting the ears off the second pony, a white earth pony with the cutie-mark of a small island with a single tree on it, “you know nothing of Celestia. How many times have you actually spoken to her? Ever?” raged Caramel, almost spitting with fury, the two were almost struck dumb. Almost.

“Celestia speaks to those who can listen.”

“Celestia damned well speaks to those who go to her fucking castle and ask her to.”

“Caramel, Caramel, hon, simmer down. I’ve got this...” Rocky headed inside, and came out again with a book. It was only a paperback copy, and a new edition at that, but the title was quite clear, “The Sayings of Celestia”. Rocky brandished it, “A long time ago, I’d never heard of this book. Read it. Page five-hundred and twenty-two.”

He held it out for them in his mouth, and the pair crowded around to read. He could see their lips moving as they followed the text - to be fair, it was held in his mouth and not the closest they’d been to such small text.

“What is this heresy?” asked the male earth-pony

“It’s not heresy. I spoke to Celestia herself, don’t you read your own texts? Tell me, what does it say on the very, very first page of ‘Celestia’s Path’?”

“Why it says...it says...”

“It says,” said Rocky, closing his eyes, remembering, though it made him sick that he could still recall such poison, “these are the collected sayings of the great and wise Ecumenical Council of four-hundred-seventy-three of the years After Luna, Goddess of the Night, Protector of the Flock, Guardian of the Way...”

“Enough.”

“Don’t you see? What you’re saying, it’s wrong.”

Big Mac finally spoke up, “way’s I see it, the boy’s got a point, and you ain’t. So git.”

Rocky flipped the book shut and placed it on a table, “and you can take number three with you as well.”

“Number three?” asked Big Mac.

“Eeeeyup,” said Rocky, imitating the large red stallion, “They always travel in threes. They think it’s important.”

“How do you know so much about us?” piped up the stallion earth-pony suspiciously.

“Did ah give yew permission t’talk?” said Big Mac angrily, and the stallion shook his head. There was a meaty solid THUNK as Big Mac head-butted the pony, and the stunned creature fell to the floor, “now git! Don’t let me catch yew talkin’ none to me or mah boy Caramel nor his...mare...again, y’hear?”

“Coco!” said the filly, “Coco Butter, you okay? Speak to me!”

“That is indeed though, a good question,” said a third voice from the other side of the square, the missing part of the trio. He was a unicorn, blue-green of pelt with a pyramidal shape as a cutie-mark, “maybe I can answer that question. What do you think, Rock Breaker?”

Rocky’s ears went back and he gave a little gasp, studying the newcomer in detail.

“Rock Breaker?” asked Caramel, looking with a worried expression at the suddenly recalcitrant gelding, “but you said...you said your name was Rocky Road...”

“Not entirely correct, is it, Rocky? Don’t you recognize your old bud Mandelbrot? I almost didn’t recognize you. It took me a while to find you, you made it hard to find you.”

Rocky hung his head, “MB, go home. I’m not with FF any more.”

“That’s...that’s funny, cos the way I see it, you run the show. You’re fucking Rock Breaker, man! You started the chapter! You used to lead the charge, I remember one time, one time you burnt down a library. Bunch of fucking faggots, you called them. And now look at you.”

“Rocky? What’s he saying?” Caramel was shocked, Big Mac could do little but stare down the still-cockeyed stallion earth-pony and the feathered filly.

“I...I told you, Caramel, I’m not a nice pony. I’ve done some bad, bad things in my time. Horrible things.”

“What happened, man? I find you hear, faggoting it up with this nancy-boy - you even got the goddamn crunch. You’re a fucking fag flake, what happened?”

“What did happen?” asked Caramel, “you never told me!”

Rocky started, stammering, “I-I-I...I can’t tell you...because I don’t know. What I do know...I bucked a filly. She was a whore, I was paying her. I bucked her, broke her jaw, smashed her teeth in, and...and it was the worst thing I’ve ever done in my life. I’ll never get to see her again, never get to apologize because I don’t know who she is.”

Rocky turned to the unicorn, “I didn’t ask for this to happen, Mandy, they took my malehood by force, as retribution. I deserved it, and you know what? I’m better off. I like myself being his mare. I’m a fucking half-stallion colt-clopping fake-filly and I FUCKING LIKE IT, do you hear?”

The unicorn sneered, and spat, pawing the ground, “you’re a traitor, Rocky, a dirty, lying, perverted little traitor.”

Caramel leapt in front of Rocky, circling as the unicorn tried to find an opening, “he’s not. He’s the sweetest, the kindest,” Caramel turned to look at Rocky, who looked up from his own private hell at a sweet, foolish pony who had dared to give him a chance, and then at the unicorn, who was already starting to move.

Time seemed to slow - before anyone else could react, before Big Mac had even turned his head to see what was happening, before the expression changed in Caramel’s face as he realized the urgent sudden look on his lover was fierce with purpose, Rocky leapt.

Mandelbrot had sprung into action, his head lowered, rear legs bent, propelling his massive frame through the air where it would have impacted Caramel in the shoulder, bowling him over and hurling him against the hard tiled floor.

Instead, Rocky gasped. There was a thick, wet sound as Mandelbrot’s head impacted with Rocky’s chest and the unicorn fell to the ground, writhing in pain, his horn snapped clean off almost at the base.

Rocky fell back onto his hind legs and blinked, choking for breath, and then time speeded up again.

Caramel was dazed for a second, thrown back as the sudden unexpected weight of Rocky and the stranger unicorn collided with where he was standing. He was almost knocked off his hooves with the suddenly limp form of Rocky, who was making gagging choking noises, legs unable to sustain his bulk. Caramel looked aghast as he realised the unicorn was rolling on the floor, stunned, but without his horn.

“ROCKY!” screamed Caramel, “Oh Celestia, Oh Luna, Oh by the stars...SOMEPONY, PLEASE, HELP!”

With mounting horror, Caramel looked on in shock at the almost pristine unicorn’s horn projecting from deep within Rocky’s front section, definitely piercing his lungs and worryingly close to where his heart should be. Rocky fell to the floor, gasping for breath and bleeding profusely from the chest-wound, spitting blood from his nose and mouth.

Big Mac, ever the pragmatist, slammed his hooves into the unicorn’s head, who twitched once and stopped moving, knocked out, before setting all four hooves back on the floor, taking a deep breath and shouting, “MEDIC!”

Caramel sobbed uncontrollably, crouched down next to the gasping Rocky, trying to alternately pull out and push in the horn, panicking, trying to save his lover. It took a stoic Big Mac to put a hoof over his friend’s hooves and say, quietly, “stop, Caramel...stop. Help is coming.”

“Who can possibly help? It’s...it must have pierced his heart...he can’t breathe, I’m losing him! I don’t want to lose him! I just found him!” Caramel was choking up, tears streaming down his face to blend hotly with the red lifeblood pooling around the helpless gelding.

thump-thump...

Twilight was suddenly at Caramel's side, carrying books and a doublet bag. She looked very nervous. Every line of her face said this is not good, “I’m here! I’m here...I’m not very good...I’ve only read a few treatises on equine anatomy...”

Twilight Sparkle, all-around hard-working, caring, and at this moment nervous and somewhat frantic unicorn had come at her speediest, armed with what books she’d managed to cram into her bags on a moment’s notice.

“Twilight? Can you fix this?” asked Big Mac, pointing with a hoof to the distraught pair.

“Big Mac? Caramel?” she looked up from the gelding like she hadn’t even noticed the worried stallion, “I...I-I-I don’t kn-know...” she almost went from purple to white when the magnitude of the situation became clear, “I know some magic to knit bones and arteries...normally we’d put the subject under and...and we’d have extra blood...and...”

“Help him! He’s dying! Can’t you see he’s bleeding out?”

thump-thump...

“I’ll try...” Twilight thought for a moment, then made her decision, “on three, pull out the horn...one...two...three!”

There was a fresh spurt of blood, but Twilight was ready. She closed her eyes, ignoring the gore, and her horn started to glow. the gaping wound shrivelled and knitted until it was just fresh scar-tissue, still covered in hot blood but no longer bleeding directly, “Oh no...he’s got massive, massive internal hemorrhaging...” her eyes were still closed, the light in her horn sputtered and spat and she worked tiny, difficult magics inside the now-unconscious earth-pony. “it was in his heart...collapsed his lungs...I’ve never done this before! Celestia help me...”

Rocky coughed and convulsed, spitting up bright blood from his lungs.

thump-thump...thump-thump...

“Something’s not working...” barked Twilight, “he’s...it’s like he’s fighting my healing magic.”

“He, uh, he said he can’t remember...something that happened. Could that have somethin’ to do with it?” said Big Mac, hopefully.

“I don’t know...” her attention wavered for a second as she sought the blocks in the pony’s mind. It didn’t take much to remove, and with a swirl of emotion and insight, Rocky found his memory returning...

...It was strangely dark in his memories, but he remembered the room, the bedsheets, the pony. Snowbell, that was her name, he realised, and she had been pretty. They’d rutted, torrid, urgent, but...he hadn’t. He couldn’t. It hadn’t worked. He’d thrown off in defeat, angry, sullen. She’d turned to him, concerned, but his stupid, arrogant bastard self hadn’t been able to take it when she’d asked, “you know, we do have...colts here too?”

He’d flipped, he’d shouted, he’d sworn, and finally, before she or the bouncers could stop him, he’d whirled on her, and planted both heavy feet in her jaw. There’d been a crack, and a cry, and a sound almost like raindrops as her teeth had bounced off the wall and onto the floor.

Then they’d taken him and gelded him, and taken his memory and hidden it away...

...His eyes snapped open, he was gasping for breath, he gripped as best as he could with his hooves onto Caramel, looked him in the eyes, and said, “I’m...sorry,” then his head lolled back, his body going all too limp.

thump-thump...thump-thump...thump...thump...thump.

His laboured, heavy breathing slowed, then stopped.

Caramel, who had been holding his breath, let it out, and whispered, “Rocky? Rocky? ROCKY!!!” and then collapsed on the still, grey-haired and red-stained body, and sobbed, unable to think, feel, move or do anything. He nuzzled and mussed at the mane, hoping to see a stirring, a smile, a groan, anything to remind him of the mornings in the coffee-shop, the afternoons in the park...but there was nothing.

“Caramel,” said Big Mac, softly, “Caramel!” again, a bit louder, “I think it’s time to go.”

***

Twilight packed her things away that night, and wrote by the light of the full moon herself. Spike was sleeping, she’d washed herself off. It had been quite the day, it would certainly take a long time to get back to normal around Ponyville, she mused to herself. It would never be the same for Caramel.

The “Foals First” trio had been incarcerated, shipped off to Celestia, it was her realm, and murder was quite the charge. Murder. Twilight scribbled on the page, this was going to take quite the letter to talk about the magic of friendship. She wasn’t sure she could manage through the tears, but she tried.

Dear Princess Celestia

she began, as she had began so many times before,

today I learnt a great secret about friendship, a great secret which everypony knows, but few know they know, that in the midst of hardship, great bonds can be forged, bonds which last through life, and maybe death. It began, in a way, with the death of one “Rock Breaker” ...

***

“Caramel,” said Big Mac, softly, “Caramel!” again, a bit louder, “I think it’s time to go.”

Caramel refused to budge from the still body of his lover, he just nuzzled and pawed, shaking him, trying to wake him up.

“Big Mac, he...he needs to say goodbye.” said Twilight, “it’s said, by some, that the shadow ponies come to take the...the you inside away, and they carry the last wishes of the living with them, and if there are enough good wishes, that the...pony inside...gets to the Eternal Fields.”

“You don’t believe that rubbish any more than I do,” said Big Mac, snorting.

“No, but I do believe Caramel should get to say goodbye.”

Big Mac watched impassively, as Caramel whispered about the life they’d have. They’d open a shop together, the best shop in all Equestria, ponies would come from miles around for their coffee, it would be famous, they’d be happy, forever...

Big Mac shook his head, he couldn’t let it end like this, “nope...” He placed a single hoof on his friend, and spoke a single word, “Caramel,”

Caramel glanced up at Big Mac with an empty expression.

“Caramel, move away. If you’ve ever done anything for me, do it now. Move!”

Caramel, mystified, got up and moved away from the still and bloody form of Rocky. Big Mac leaned down, until his big red head was right up against Rocky’s ear, and he said four simple words, then he repeated them. He got up and spoke louder more words, “do you hear me, Rocky? Now you FIGHT son, FIGHT.”

Caramel watched for a second, and then lay down next to Rocky, with his head on Rocky’s barrel of a stomach.

“I...I’m sorry it had to be this way Cara-” Big Mac began

“Shh!” Hissed Caramel.

“Bu-”

“SHH! Dammit, shut up!”

Thump-thump... thump-thump...

Like glaciers moving, like the sun moving across the sky, Rocky’s lungs inflated for a long, long painful breath.

“TWILIGHT! BIG MAC! HE’S ALIVE!”

Twilight turned around and blinked, and immediately dropped to her knees to renew her efforts. Rocky’s eyes flickered open, and focused on first Twilight, and then on Rocky, where they stayed. He smiled.

***

Rocky opened his eyes from the hospital bed - well, he called it a hospital bed, it was really his own bed in his treehouse-cafe where he was waited on to an annoying degree by the excruciatingly overprotective Caramel. Not five minutes would pass without Caramel fluffing a pillow or offering him sweets.

“Car, I’ll get fat. I mean, more fat! Stop it!”

“Well today’s the day,” said Rarity as she bustled in to the room, shooing the other ponies out of the way, “today’s the day the bandages come off those haunches, and whilst they were so delicately coloured to match your hue, dear Rocky, you’ll look better without them don’t you think?”

Rarity - usually the one to make dresses and sew designs - had offerered to help stitch and dress the wounds. Fluttershy and the nurse pony were off seeing to a herd of migrating eel-boars, and Rarity had simply leapt at the chance to decorate.

With a flourish of her magic, she cut the bandages, and smiled, “ah, there we go, all gone. Your cutie-mark even survived intact! I never saw it before, how cute! A cookie!”

Rocky blinked, “no, no...it’s a rock. And a hammer.”

“Nope, I’m quite sure. A cookie. Chocolate chip, I believe...”

***

Twilight smiled, wiping away the tears carefully with a hoof before they could smudge the ink,

...We used to believe that a cutie-mark was set for life, as it denoted the skills and the bearing of each pony individually. I still think that to be true, and can come to only one conclusion.

Rock Breaker, whatever he did in the past, is no more. Let the records show he died this day. In his place, a new pony was given a new life - and a new cutie-mark, whether by his own design, my magic, or something else entirely I may never know - and a new name.

I’m very, very glad to announce the engagement of Rocky Roads and Caramel. We’ve set no firm date yet, but rest assured, my dear teacher, you will get an invitation.

Your faithful student,

Twilight Sparkle.