A Sweet Taste of Cake

Chapters

The Dance
Strings
A Parting of Ways
The Deal
Certain Advice
The Game has Changed
You Think You Know a Guy
Once Upon a Mattress
The Stand
Take a Letter
Sugar Cubes
Twice Upon a Mattress
The New Girl
Vignettes
Thrice Upon a Mattress
The Game of This
Names, Stairs, Arrivals, and Songs

The Dance

Setting Note: While the story in its entirety takes place over years and decades in the lives of Carrot Cake and Cup Cake (or, Cupcake), the primary story, namely the construction of the gingerbread house, is set during a specific day in the series. In this story the construction of the gingerbread house by the Cakes takes place on "Hearth's Warming Eve" before Pinkie Pie gets on the train to Canterlot. It is assumed for the purposes of this story that this was many, many months before the events of "Baby Cakes", during the period when the Cakes themselves and we in the fandom thought them to be forever childless. Happily, we were wrong!

"A Sweet Taste of Cake"
Inspired by the image Artist Training Grounds Day 22 by Egophiliac. Used with permission.
Written by The Descendant

Chapter 1: The Dance

Since the frosting seemed to be ready, Cup Cake used the confectioner's tube to test it by gently placing a large white dollop across the nose of her husband.

Carrot's eyes crossed. He looked first at the frosting and then turned to her with a smile. As she tilted her head, her own smile grew and answered his. With a little giggle, she went off to fetch more components of their unfolding creation.

The sweet smell of gingerbread drifted around the kitchen of Sugar Cube Corner. The gingerbread came closer to being ready, the heat of the oven falling over them, draping its warmth and the soft smell of what sat within around the happy pair.

The gingerbread house had been a special order. They had begun working on it as the day had broke. The two went about purposefully, determined that they would complete this work together, that the two of them would bring it to fruition.

Carrot prepared the board, laying the wax paper across it evenly so that it lay taut. He quietly surveyed it, his eyes focusing past the little mound of frosting as he inspected his work.

Happy with his efforts, he surveyed the tools: the bowls, the spoons, and the measuring cups. All seemed ready for the crafting of the gingerbread house… all was in order.

He closed his eyes. It was Hearth's Warming Eve and he listened to Cup Cake as she hummed a holiday tune. He felt the warmth of the oven shifting in unseen waves as she began to pull the trays from within.

As they waited for the pieces to cool on the baking rack, they cut off any slight imperfections by slowly sawing away any speck of bubbled surface that blemished the gingerbread.

With that, all that remained was to wait.

She moved beside him and rubbed against the length of his body before nuzzling beneath his chin.

"Ba da, da dummm dumm…"

Her humming brought his eyes down to hers, a remembrance growing in him as she did. She tossed her head, motioned towards the grouping of the largest and flattest of the pieces… ones that resembled a dance floor.

"… da dumm, dummm da dumm," she continued as she pressed against him, beginning to sway gently. He joined her in the rhythm as a memory of a day now long past swept across the two of them in time.

"Ohhh, don't look now Ive, but you've got your first request for a dance comin' down this way!"

The other young mare stifled a giggle and lifted her head from her little drink. With cautious eyes and a toss of her grey mane, she let her gaze flit from behind her glasses. She saw the colt awkwardly making his way towards them, bouncing off of dancers and waiting for other revelers to pass as he did. She smiled a bit and turned to her companion.

"I do believe you are mistaken Cuppy, dear," she said, lowering her head and whispering into the ear of her friend. "It's the Cake colt. He's had his eyes on you since we trotted in here."

Cupcake blanched and spun her head around in exactly the same way she had just warned Ivory not to.

There was a moment of panic as her eyes accidentally met the green ones of the colt. He blushed sheepishly as he waited for more dancers to part before him. Her head went to the table, the mare using one hoof to shield her from view.

"But, but… that-that can't be Ive!" Cupcake exclaimed as she startled.

"And why not?"

"Because you always get asked to dance first! I, ohhh… I hardly ever get asked, and when I do it's just colts who know my father…"

"Well," said Ivory happily, looking over the top of her glasses at all the ponies assembled within the dancehall, "That's one streak that ends here rather soon."

"Oh, but Ive, what should I say?" pleaded Cupcake.

"My suggestion would be 'yes'. Oh, hello Carrot! How are you this evening?"

"Oh, ummm, hello Miss…" he began, stretching his long neck forward and down, attempting to answer her, the gangly colt looking small as he did.

"None of that, Carrot!" she answered with a smile. "We aren't at father's mill. Please, just call me Ivory. Have you met my dear friend Cupcake?"

The colt's eyes lifted immediately, meeting the gaze he had sought all night. She spun to look at him, an uncertainty lying across her own face as she looked to the colt.

He stared down to her, trying to speak but instead getting caught in her eyes…

…her beautiful rose-colored eyes. He swam in them for an instant before finding his words.

"Oh, yes. Oh, umm, I mean no… actually. I mean I have seen her, you, Miss Cupcake, but I-I haven't had the chance… You see I've want-wanted to introduce…"

"Just ask her to dance already, Carrot!" interrupted Ivory as she leaned in to take a sip of her drink.

Both looked to the sipping mare and then quickly back to each other again. Cupcake found herself staring upon a colt who was obviously growing more and more nervous as the moments passed.

"Would-would you… care to dance?" he finally asked, swallowing his nerves.

Cupcake looked to Ivory. The mare arched an eyebrow at her. She remembered the earlier advice, and she breathed a "yes" before putting her hoof in his.

Ivory smirked to herself as the two ponies went off, watching Carrot do his best to clear the crowd so that they could pass. She usually hated being here on Fridays… it was always so crowded.

Then again, that is why she had demanded to come.

She knew that today was the day that Carrot came, hoping to hide in the crowd.

That, of course, was why she had badgered Cuppy into accompanying her.

They were just barely visible among the throng of ponies, but she smiled to herself as she watched the couple begin an awkward little dance.

She giggled softly, took another sip, and looked around to the many sets of eyes that were all nodding and smiling at her.

Ah… Friday.

It was not the most graceful dance that the old hall had ever seen. Only the conversation was more awkward. Cupcake winced inwardly each time that the weak-jawed colt tried to speak, expecting each statement to be the one that would betray his interest in her father's businesses… thinking that the next few words would be the ones that revealed him to be just like all of the other colts.

The old dance floor groaned beneath the weight of the couples. Cupcake laughed a bit inwardly as this colt, Carrot, tried to simultaneously lead them around the floor and avoid the other dancers. As he tried to engage her in conversation, he would suddenly look rather perturbed and turn to apologize to a blushing mare or scowling colt. He would then ask her where they had been going with the conversation as he blushed.

She found herself smiling as he both tried to focus on her and quickly stammer through apologies.

As he quickly went through the last of what she recognized were obviously practiced questions, Cupcake realized that he had only been asking about her… that he was only really interested in her.

Her sympathy rose for the gangly colt as he sighed, "This… umm, this isn't going too well…"

"No, no it isn't," she answered over the music and the hum of the crowd. To her alarm he seemed to deflate. "But," she continued, running her hoof along his foreleg, much to her own surprise and his, "please, don't stop trying."

Carrot's ears came up. He lifted his head and looked to the open windows of the dancehall. Beyond them the lanterns that hung from the eaves of the porch bobbed in pools of light, holding back the gathering dusk.

"Miss Cupcake, would…" he stuttered. He took another breath and apologized to another couple that spun away before he had finished speaking. "Do you think we could go out onto the porch?"

"Oh, I thought you'd never ask!" she giggled. Cupcake tucked in beside him as he used his frame to slice between couples in the crowd.

At her table Ivory watched them fight out through the doors on the far side of the hall, the ones nearest the bandstand. "Well," she thought with a single chuckle, "that certainly took long enough!"

The flickering lights in the lanterns competed with the flash of the lightning bugs in the grass beyond the dancehall. As Carrot and Cupcake moved from the glow of one lantern to the next, they looked for an open spot along the railing. Soon they had found one. They sat there looking out past Ponyville to the fields of grass beyond where the insects appeared as pinpricks of light that erupted and flowed with wobbling trails.

"Oh, I should have asked if you'd like a drink!" he said, putting his hoof across his eyes.

"Oh, no, I'm alright," she said, looking down, running her hoof across a splinter. The old dancehall had seen better days; perhaps it did not have much time left despite its popularity.

She realized that he had gone quiet. The colt was simply looking at her and blushing. She thought about that for a moment and then returned the smile. He had used up all of his prepared questions… he was out of things to say, he did not know how to go on. All of his carefully practiced words had been spent back out there on the crowded, noisy dance floor.

Yet he still sat there blushing, still looking at her with a small dopey smile.

"Thank you, thank you for the dance. I-I've really wanted to talk with you, ever since I saw you walking with Miss Ivory at the mill," he began.

"Oh, yes. I saw ya' peekin' at me that one time, and the other time," she answered, her voice showing that she was glad that he had found something they could discuss.

"Oh! You, you did?" he said with some surprise. "I wasn't, I mean… I didn't mean to stare, but…"

She smiled, moved a bit closer to him, sat beside him as the little pools of lantern light fell over them.

"No, it's fine… thank, thank you," she said softly, "I never get asked to dance all that much. Ive always gets asked first and I hafta to just sit there, don'tcha know. All the pretty mares get asked before I do, the ones who aren't as… round."

"You aren't that round," he said.

At once the colt bolted in place, shock washing over him. With a sigh he lowered his head onto the railing of the porch, resting it there as she looked at him with subtle disappointment.

"I shoulda' said 'You aren't round!', that's what I was supposed to say, right?" spoke Carrot turning his head slightly and looking at her with one eye. "This isn't going very well…"

She gave a little laugh. She slowly rested her head on the railing as well, turning it so that she peered at him with a small smile.

He looked ridiculous, slowly banging his head on the old weatherworn railing that rattled and shook with each strike. But… he had wanted to talk with her, dance with her, even if just for a little while. Was just interested in meeting her… just her.

"Well, no… it isn't, but," she said softly, "please, don't stop trying."

Carrot ceased his self-deprecation and waited for the sawdust to stop falling from the ancient railings before slowly turning his head. She was leaning upon it too, her face being revealed as he tilted slowly towards her. There was a soft expression over her face, and her perfect rose-colored eyes caught his as she sat in the lantern light.

Those eyes.

The porch was mostly deserted now. The other couples who had been crowding it had either broken up in disappointment or, for those whom the evening was progressing much more pleasantly, had made for the field of tall grass and woods just beyond.

The music of the dance hall began again, the sound drifting over them through the opened windows.

"Ba da, da dummm dumm…" began the music once more, floating out to where they stood besides the railing.

She lifted her foreleg, waving it towards him just a little bit. He lifted himself, gathered up her offered hoof and led her to the open space besides the windows.

"… da dumm, dummm da dumm," continued the song as they began their dance once more. Together they swayed back and forth as the tune fell over them, as they moved from pool of light to pool of light that the lanterns cast over the long porch.

She moved her eyes from his, touching her cheek to his for just an instant before laying her head across his withers. With that they danced their dance for a good long while as fireflies flashed among the tall grass and in the woods beyond.

Being Quarry means that since the day you were old enough to say your name, you have known it has two meanings.

Being Quarry means feeling your strength, knowing where to pull resources from, how to accomplish things. It means being resourceful, strong and forceful like the very rock of the world's foundation.

Being Quarry also means feeling pursued, hunted. It means feeling, knowing, that they are always trying to take everything from you.

Being Quarry means having to be strong, proud, and if need be, brutal.

The walls of the gingerbread house lifted easily from the wax paper.

Carefully, delicately, the two ponies removed each piece from the paper, letting each large portion slide daintily upon the drying rack.

Cup Cake looked the largest sections over, glancing up to her husband as he nodded at each piece approvingly. She giggled quietly to herself as he turned away, noting that the large bit of frosting still clung to his nose, that it still stood starkly where she had laid it as the project had begun.

He readied himself before the board, wordlessly taking up the familiar spot he had occupied every time they had worked on a project of this type. With that the two began a familiar dance, one they had practiced time and time again, and yet each time new and wonderful.

He held the first two pieces of gingerbread in place, held the one that would become a wall to the foundation.

Slowly Cup Cake drew the confectioner's tube along the inside seam, leaving a trail of perfectly even frosting to bind the pieces of gingerbread together.

With practiced hooves they followed these steps, attaching each new component, laying this firm foundation that the gingerbread house depended upon.

Finally, after long, cautious, and wordless moments they had completed the foundation. To Carrot's surprise she finished the last seam by stepping into his outstretched forelegs as he held the two halves together. As the frosting emptied from the tube, the last line was completed. She stepped back into his chest, resting there as both waited to see if it would stand on its own.

As she moved into his embrace, he lifted his head so that the dollop of frosting on his nose would not catch in her mane. He carefully lowered his head again, laying his cheek to hers as they watched, waited, and hoped that what they had built could stand long enough to become one solid piece.

In their thoughts the two raced back to a time when things had not been so certain, when they too were just starting to make a foundation.

"You don't need to keep peeking around corners, Cuppy," said Ivory, flipping through some papers on the desk, "I promise you he's here, we'll go in a minute. Look, that's his name on the timesheet."

Cupcake stopped peering skittishly up and down the mill floor from the office door and looked instead to the large board that hung on the wall.

She followed the long list of names until her eyes settled on his. "Carrot Cake" it read in small and rather plain script.

She looked at the little name for a lingering moment.

"Oh, Ive, do you think he'll ask me-ask me to…" Cupcake said, turning within the office. Ivory slowly moved from stack of papers to stack of papers, lifting them seemingly at random and giving each one an introspective hum.

"I don't see why not! He was quite taken with you Friday. As a matter of fact I don't see why he hadn't asked you then," she spoke, setting the paper down.

"I honestly don't know why," Ivory said, looking almost puzzled, "I can't say why he hadn't asked you then…"

Cupcake had only barely heard Ivory's puzzlement. She had already returned to the door and was staring up and down the long reaches of the mill.

"Oh, Ive! What am I gonna do if he doesn't ask me?" she asked in a worried tone.

"Well, then you shall have to be the one to ask him!" replied the other mare as she watched Cupcake steal long looks outside the door.

Cupcake turned again, the mare almost looking surprised. "Is-is it okay to do that?" she asked in an earnest tone. "I mean, I don't think…oh, Ive, help me! You've done this so many more times than I have!"

Ivory arched an eyebrow and raised one of her forelegs.

"Oh, I don't mean it that way! You know I don't!" called Cupcake as she trotted back on quick hooves to where her oldest friend stood. She nuzzled Ivory's chin, drawing the mare's head up to her withers. As she did Cupcake spoke in a high, almost worried tone.

"Ive, I don't know why I'm like this! I've been thinking about him all weekend!" she said, still resting her head on the withers of the other mare. "He just wanted to talk with me, had been trying to since he first saw me! He didn't care that I'm a little round, don'tcha know? Me, Ive, not talk about father or his business… just me! Oh, Ive, why do I feel this way?"

Ivory laughed a small laugh and laid her head deeper against Cupcake's.

"You honestly don't know, do you? You honestly don't. Oh, Cuppy, you have no idea how dear you are," Ivory said in a quiet tone as she let her friend rest upon her for a moment longer.

Cupcake lifted her head, and looked at Ivory as though she wanted to ask a question. Before she could speak, Ivory had already gathered up her hoof and was leading her out the door.

With a small gasp Cupcake entered the mill floor. As they went, slight traces of stray flour fell through shafts of light that came in through the windows.

High above in the bagging rooms, great belts turned the wheels that drove the mechanizations of the mill. As the great waterwheel turned the waters of the river into power to drive the machines, it cast cyclical shadows into the high, hot places of the mill.

In one such place a colt struggled, cursing to himself as a bag of flour he was supposed to be tending fell to the floor.

He knew enough not to put the spilt flour back in the bag. As still more flour came pouring out of the grindstones, he fought to figure out what to do with what had fallen out of the large sack. He kicked at it and tried to clear it away. All that accomplished was to make the flour rise up in a cloud that stained his legs white.

Carrot sighed as the floor supervisor, Trammel, caught sight of him and began trotting towards his stall.

"I'm sorry Trammel, it just got away from me," said Carrot, gathering the broom into the space beneath his shoulder and along his foreleg, sweeping as much of the flour as he could into the sill.

"Carrot, lad, this is your second missed bag his morning," spoke the larger earth pony. "You're mostly more keen than that. Are you well?"

"No… I mean, yes! Oh, no, no I-I don't mean I'm sick or anything but, but…" began Carrot, taking a deep sigh, trying his best to keep the new bag in the filling position even as he cleared the old one away. "I met a mare Friday, at the old dance hall, and all weekend I've been-been…"

Trammel arched an eyebrow and smiled slightly as a blissful expression fell over the face of the colt.

"I've been thinking about her all weekend," he said softly as he looked up to Trammel. "You've met her, actually. Well, seen her. She's Miss Ivory's friend, Miss Cupcake. You know, the mare who's here with her from time to time…"

Trammel took a few steps back, called out in a singsong tone down the line of bagging stalls.

"Hello, what's this? Fellows, it turns out our Carrot Cake likes the round ones!" announced the stallion.

Laughter came from nearby bagging stalls, rising even over the sounds of the belts and wheels. Soon nearby colts were shouting out their own opinions.

"Hey, Soap Suds! What you look for in a mare?"

"Breathing works, I ain't picky!"

Trammel's smile dropped as he turned back and saw Carrot staring at the floor.

"She's-she's not that round," said Carrot. The colt raised his head to the newly filled bag of flour and lifted it to the constantly turning belt of bins. With that, it was first raised up and over the wheel and then far down into the mill below.

"Sorry, Carrot, lad," said Trammel as he cleared away the last of the spilt flour. "Didn't mean anything by it. Did you ask her for a date?"

There was a thud. Trammel looked up to see the weak-jawed colt banging his head against the inside of the stall. "No, but I wanted to! I just froze up! I can't believe it! I froze up!"

Carrot banged his head against the stall once more and then turned back to his bag.

"All I could do as Miss Ivory came to take her home was say 'Good Night' over and over like an idiot! I-I'm sure she liked dancing with me… I, I think she liked being with me," Carrot said, his voice getting stronger as he spoke. "She's so beautiful, but that's not even half of it! She was so understanding, and when things went wrong she was calm and certain… forgiving..."

Carrot turned to the older pony, looked for advice.

"Trammel, what am I going to do? I don't know why I feel this way; I've never felt this way for a mare before…" he asked the older pony. Carrot saw something of panic shoot through the eyes of his supervisor as the question drifted among the clouds of flour.

"Appears as though you've chance to explore those feelings, lad! Here comes the big fish's daughter, and she's got your fair damsel with her!" he said as Trammel raced off to make sure his floor was spic and span.

"Oh Celestia!" cried Carrot, darting back within his bagging stall. As he heard the hooves of Ivory and Cupcake draw closer, he ran his forelegs through his hair to straighten it. As he realized that he had just streaked flour through his mane, he yelled at himself. He beat his body against the stall to shake loose whatever flour he could and then turned to his bag and attempted to look as though he had not heard them coming.

His eyes went wide as he realized that this bag too was nearly full and was only seconds from tipping over. He quickly pushed in the clutch, pulled out the old bag, and placed a new one beneath the grindstone's outlet. As he released the clutch flour once more poured into his stall. With some practiced effort, he lifted the large bag into the constantly circling containers and watched it first travel up and then down past the wheel into the mill below.

He turned around just in time to see the tails of Cupcake and Ivory pass by, having missed him completely while his back was turned to them.

He sank against the stall wall with a disgusted sound. Why couldn't it be easy?

Ivory smiled as they crossed the floor, nodding and greeting her father's employees.

Cupcake's head however was on a swivel, the mare looking left and right, searching the bagging floor as they went. As they came upon the bagging stalls, she heard Ivory's name called over the sound of the grindstones. Seeing that it was the supervisor who had called for them, they trotted to where he awaited.

"Good morning, Trammel!" spoke Ivory.

"Good morning Miss Script! And a good morning to you too, Miss Cupcake!"

Cupcake smiled to him and replied, happy that the supervisor had somehow remembered her name. He looked at her knowingly, a sly smile that she could not quite place sitting upon his face.

"Miss Cupcake!" she heard her name called over the sounds of the belts.

"Miss Cupcake!" it came again, competing with the wheels.

She looked around, up and down the mill floor, at once both anxious and eager. She had thought it had come from the bagging stalls yet, when she looked that way, there was only ever a flash of movement.

Cupcake spun and looked up the length of the mill in the other direction. Had it been an illusion? No sooner had she done so that her name came ringing out again from the stalls. She spun in time to miss it once more.

Ivory giggled to herself. Even as she continued to speak with Trammel, she lifted her left rearhoof and planted it firmly against Cupcake's posterior. With slightly more than a gentle nudge, she sent her friend cantering down the line of bagging stalls.

Trammel looked to Ivory with a meaningful smirk. Ivory tossed her head in a gesture to follow, and soon they were watching the scene as it unfolded.

Cupcake cautiously crept along the stalls, poking her head into each slightly. As she came to the last one in line, she poked her head within…

Carrot turned from the bag again, upset at having to call out to her in such an ungentle way, having to shout over the belts. "Miss Cu…" he began, turning to the opening of the stall…

With that their noses met.

For a long moment they stood there, nose to nose, green eyes cast down into the pool of rose colored ones. The two held their gaze for what seemed like a perfect eternity.

With that, flour began pouring out of Carrot's bag.

"Oh!" cried Cupcake, noticing the rising white cloud. "I'm sorry!"

Carrot turned to face the unfolding disaster. He caught the bag just in time, trying to go through the motions while still speaking to her.

"No, it's fine!" he said, pressing the clutch with one hoof while trying to adjust the bag to close it. "It's fine, really!"

As he tried to place a new bag on the siphon he turned to try to speak with her again. His hoof came off the clutch just long enough for a single poof of flour to shower his forelegs.

"Oh dear! I didn't mean…"

"Really, it's okay I was just trying to…"

"Bag?"

"No! Yes! I mean… thank you!" he said as she slipped a new one across the spigot. As she did, he lifted the bag up to the containers, giving a little groan as he did so from an unfamiliar position, leaving room for her within the stall.

"I-I was hoping you'd be around today…"

"I had a great time at the…"

"Clutch… wait, I mean I'm glad!"

"… dance."

"Right now?"

The two continued this stuttering conversation. Soon stifled giggles arose around them.

"You're no help, Ive!" called Cupcake, giving a disapproving glance. "You're no help at all!"

"Hello, you two! I do believe we charge for double occupancy! I say, did you remember to sign in on the timesheet before starting today, Miss Cupcake?" asked Trammel with a small laugh of his own.

"Here," spoke Cupcake, touching her hoof to Carrot's foreleg, instantly capturing his attention, "let's do it this way, okay?"

Soon she had worked out a system, Carrot marveling at her decisiveness. Shortly they were able to work and speak with each other at the same time.

"What I was trying to say, is that, I-I really had a great time dancing," she said as she depressed the clutch, scooting a filled bag closer to the moving containers.

"I-I'm so glad," Carrot replied, removing the filled bag and placing a new one beneath the siphon. He then lifted the filled bag she had just placed before the containers. "I was really hoping you did," he said as he blushed.

"Well, yes, and… and well, I did…" she replied.

For a moment they worked silently. Ivory closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Carrot did as well and turned to face the mare that stood near him.

"I was wondering, Miss Cupcake," he began, "maybe if you'd like to…"

"Yes?" she answered questioningly.

"Really?" he replied enthusiastically.

"I-I'm sorry? What…" she began, taking her hoof of the clutch in confusion. In an instant their newfound regimen broke down and flour once more flowed out of the spigot.

As Ivory and Trammel laughed, Carrot attempted to place a new bag while moving the full one to the containers, the colt simultaneously holding in the clutch in a display of aerobic prowess.

This left lifting the large bag the only useful thing that Cupcake could do. She attempted to heft the large, heavy sack into the hopper, giving a cry as she missed it by fractions of an inch. Her rear hooves danced as she stood upon them, missing a second hopper as well, and with that she began to topple.

"I've got you!" Carrot called, seeing what was about to happen.

At once his forelegs came up around her. His body lifted around her. His hooves slid across the length of her forelegs from behind, pushing the bag higher and leaving her wrapped inside his legs.

For Cupcake that moment grew, drifted around her.

As his forelegs met hers, as his frame encompassed her, the sensation of being in contact with him flashed through her. To her it was as though they were dancing again, and all of the wonderful feelings they had shared rose up in her once more.

She did not know why, but as he held the bag above them, she surrendered her hold on it. She willfully leaned back against his chest, settled there, let her head lay there. It felt somehow… welcoming, inviting.

She gave a small gasp of realization, finally in that instant realizing why he had been in her head over those last few days.

As she gave her gasp, it drove through him like the soft call of doves. At once the feel of her upon his chest filled him, and he went stark still.

Gravity was unimpressed by the touching scene that was playing out and simply pulled on a string of causality. With that, the bag of flour toppled over them.

Ivory's hoof had gone to her mouth in alarm, but as the flour cleared, it revealed two figures unharmed by the accident. Her alarm gave way to a cheerful expression as she saw how closely the two figures stood, covered together from forehead to hoof in a perfect coating of white.

Cupcake felt Carrot's foreleg lift from her eyes. As he did, she realized he had placed them there at the last instant, keeping her safe from harm.

She turned and looked up to him. The entirety of the weak-jawed colt was covered in flour. As Trammel pulled the safety, it ended the cascade of flour pouring from the spigot. Cupcake smiled and lifted her hoof to his face.

Carrot felt Cupcake's hoof drawing across him, swam in her soft touch as she removed the flour from over his eyes. Soon he heard her say, "They're, they're clear now." He blinked, and soon green eyes once more met rose colored ones.

"Miss Cupcake," he said as he blinked, his smile glowing through the flour, "I-I would like to see you again. Can-can I, please, have a date?"

"Oh, I'd love to," she said, placing her hoof alongside his as they sat looking to one another, as little puffs of white rose around them, "I'd love to. How about this Saturday?"

"Errr, ummm, yes, sure, yes!" he said, his awkwardness returning. "Meet you at the gazebo?"

"Oh, yes, that sounds wonderful," she answered as she blushed brightly, the hue visible through her new coat of white.

Around them the flour swirled and for a long while their eyes lay upon one another.

As Ivory led Cupcake off to get cleaned up, she could not help but notice how well the two matched up, arrayed together as they were in white. "Saturday... " said Cupcake, looking back to where he stood, "... at the gazebo. Noon, righty?"

"Righty," he answered. She trotted away with a giggle as a beaming Ivory followed, leaving pools of flour across the floor in her wake.

After a moment Carrot stepped forward. He found her hoofprint left behind in the flour. He could not know why, but he felt himself selecting the most perfect one. An odd sensation floated over him, and before he had even contemplated the act, he had pressed his hoof into the flour beside it.

The two prints stood there together in the thin sheet of flour, side by side, and within him something sang happily.

"Go home, lad," spoke Trammel. "You're coming down with somethin', and you're no good to me at the moment."

"I-I'm sorry. Am I ill?" replied Carrot. "I don't feel sick. I feel great, actually."

"I should say so," replied Trammel as he cleared the flour from the stall. "That's one of the symptoms lovesickness, you know."

Carrot looked back to the stallion as insight grew on his face. At once his eyes fell back upon the two perfect hoofprints as his face lit with enlightenment.

"I'm falling in love," he called, his features brightening. "Oh Celestia, I'm falling in love!"

Strings

Chapter 2: Strings

Being Quarry means that you are big and strong and scary when your sole want in this world to be is respected and admired.

Being Quarry means that you were always accused of being the bully, even when you were the victim.

Being Quarry means that you were the one that always got picked for fights, even when you did not want to.

Being Quarry means growing up mean and angry and having no real choice in the matter.

She had considered licking the frosting off of the end of his nose.

As they held the two large pieces of gingerbread, she pondered the white dollop with a smile. She had placed it there as a small joke, a little sign of affection. So, Cup Cake realized, it was no surprise that he had not removed it.

Together they held the pieces of gingerbread that would make up the roof, leaning across the table to one another. They had tried other ways over the years, but simply trying to adhere each piece to the frame of the house only resulted in it sliding off. Likewise, leaving it on its side to dry as one piece made it uneven and hard to place.

No, this way was fine. They simply held their halves together, and if they were patient, giving, and willing to adjust, then it would come together.

Cup Cake continued to stare across to her husband as he smiled back at her.

She had considered licking the frosting off of the end of his nose, but she knew he had left it there simply because she was the one whom had placed it, that he had let it sit there as a token of her affection.

So she left it there, shimmering in the morning light as she looked upon his happy face.

As history unfolds, it leaves strings of causality behind it. Things play out one way or another, and all things move on currents that are beyond mortal perception.

Things happen in Equestria for a reason, and there as in any other reality, history shimmers and shakes at the tiniest of movements. So, one wonders, what would have happened if they had not met at the gazebo?

What if Carrot, who had been nervously walking around the outside of the gazebo, had not turned back and began trotting in the opposite direction?

What would have happened if Cupcake had simply walked around and around the outside as well, looking for him but never seeing him? What if she, or he, had given up and simply walked away heartbroken?

One shudders to think of the implications.

However, for all of the happiness and fear, all of the gladness and sadness that would follow, something made Carrot turn around and begin to circle backwards around the gazebo as he began to fuss and worry…

…and caused them once again to meet nose to nose.

They stood there with their noses pressed together again as the sound of the band that had occupied the gazebo fell over them lightly.

A smile grew on her face as she lifted her nose, looking first away with a small blush and then back up to him. As she saw her expression mirrored on his face, she spoke.

"Oh! Hello… hello, Carrot!" she said with a nervous giggle. "I was goin' around and around, don'tcha know…"

"Heh, ummm, yes, me-me too," he said with a little laugh. "Good thing I turned around…"

It was a good thing indeed. Fate smiled happily as they looked at each other, and soon the welcome feel of the unexpected touch began to fade.

He fetched something from a nearby park bench, and with that, the two went off through the village square, leaving the music of the band to float over the cobblestones.

As they walked together down the streets, Cupcake realized that he had retrieved a picnic basket. As they went, she wondered what pretty scene or secluded spot he had chosen for this little rendezvous, what beautiful space he could have selected.

Her face curled up in an unimpressed smirk as they followed the river to an open space just opposite a familiar structure.

"So, ummm, we… we came back to the mill, then?" she said while she looked past him to the big brick building beyond.

"Yeah, I saw this spot here the other day and…" he said as he lowered the blanket over a spot of mown grass beneath a vast sycamore tree. At once, his eyes flashed open and the look of pride disappeared from his face.

"Back to the…oh! Dang it! I just thought that it looked…I mean it's, if you want to go someplace else," he said, dancing his hooves a bit and turning to face her. All at once he seemed to be at once trying to finish laying the blanket and gather it back up. "I thought that… this, well..."

At once, a touch of a hoof to his brought him back to attention. "Oh, it's not a bad spot," she said, "let's give it a go?"

He calmed and looked down to where her hoof touched his. With a smile they spread the blanket once more. From the basket came their lunch.

"Oh, Carrot!" she said as little trays of assorted treats were spread out before her. "It all looks so good! Did-did you make them yourself?"

"Yes, yes I did. It's my mark, you see," he stated, pride filling him as she took her first few bites of a pastry.

"I-I saw that. Matches your name well! I-I like baking too," she replied as he poured them both tall glasses of sun tea.

"I noticed that when I was looking at, I mean when I saw your mark," he spoke as he prepared her a glass. "It, it matches your name too…."

She looked back over her own body, back down to where the three cupcakes stood in stark contrast to her coat that shimmered in the spring sunlight. They stood out visibly from the shade of blue that she herself had never really defined, her mark contrasting with her tones.

"Well, I'm quite good at baking, if I do say so myself," she began, "but it's not the bakin' itself that got me the mark but the celebrations that I plan that go with-with them…"

Cupcake arched an eyebrow as she looked up to the colt. He continued to pour the tea even as it spilled over the side of the glass.

As she realized that his eyes were still upon her mark, her flank, she gave a little polite cough that brought him back to his senses.

"Hmmm, oh! Errr, sorry, sorry!" he cried, going from a contented sound to one of small panic in one breath. He lifted away the overfilled glass and poured it back into the carafe'.

As he looked away with a blush across his face, she put her hoof across her mouth to hide her smile, to conceal her own blush. It would have been unseemly coming from any other colt, to have them eyeing her so. Yet his moment of gazing caused her no alarm, and she giggled at how surprised he had been.

"He just wants to be with me, talk with me," she whispered under her breath.

"I'm-I'm sorry, did you say something?" he asked, sliding the glass across the blanket to her.

"Oh, no nothing too important," she said, taking a small sip. "So," she asked, "do you enjoy working at the mill?"

"No, not really," he said with a sigh, sitting down upon the blanket heavily. "Please, don't-don't get me wrong, I appreciate Mr. Ledger giving me a job, Miss Ivory's dad, he's really helped me out. It's, it's hard for those of us who can't get apprenticeships. He, he's really done all of us a favor, all the colts and fillies in there."

He nodded towards the mill, looking it over for a long second as he did.

"But," he said with a sigh, "if you can't get an apprenticeship in something that matches your mark, and you can't afford school, then there's not much other than the mill or the army… and I was too thin, the recruiter said…"

She looked up him and saw the disappointment creased across his face.

"I wish I had your problem, Carrot," she said, offering him some soft reassurance, "I've only ever been too… round."

Carrot smiled. This time he knew exactly what it was that he was expected to say.

"You're not round," he spoke with some certainty.

"Oh, don't fib to me!" she called as she turned away with a disapproving glance. She looked up just in time to see all of the color drain out of his face.

"Don't, don't worry about it," she said with a smile, realizing how unfair it was. "It's a bit of a trick question."

With a great sigh of relief, Carrot returned to preparing their little lunch. As he did, they talked about a thousand tiny things: their preferences, their likes, their wants, and their dreams. As they did, gates of knowing opened up between them and strings of causality wrapped around the two.

She looked up and saw something in his face as he spoke about getting his job at the mill. As Carrot talked she felt a cart go by on the big white wooden bridge behind them, saw an old pony with a crumpled hat pulling it across as the wheels sounded out across the boards.

She looked back to Carrot, saw the light falling through the sycamore upon him.

Carrot stopped speaking, turned to ask her a question. He had been about invoke the oldest of all Equestrian pick-up lines, "How did you get your mark?", when instead he saw the winds run through the tones of her mane. He looked on as her face lifted to his, caught the rose colored eyes once more. As he drifted in her stare, the waterwheel across the river went around and around and around with soft wet sounds…

He broke the gaze and looked up to the sycamore. Deep inside the tree something flit about, and he risked a little call.

Cupcake tilted her head as he gave a whistle. To her pleasure, one bird answered his call and then another. Soon two sets of chickadees were perched upon the handle of the basket.

Together the ponies dropped crumbs from their lunch that the birds ate with happy sounds or carried off to fledglings in the nests beyond, the newborn birds growing strong in the new spring.

Soon other birds joined them.

Cupcake and Carrot began tearing off pieces of pastries and throwing them to the ducks that came waddling up the grassy beach to where they sat. Carrot could only smile as Cupcake left the broken bits of pastry in the hollow between her hooves and leaned forward. Venturesome little brown ducklings soon ate directly from her offered hooves.

Their gullets full, the ducks settled into the shade beneath the sycamore as well, dozing quietly besides the ponies.

There was a great splash, and Carrot and Cupcake looked up to see two vast white birds lift themselves from the millpond.

"Oh, Carrot, look… they're swans!" she called as she sat upright, causing the ducks to come awake and fidget. "Aren't they beautiful!"

The two trumpeter swans made their way purposefully up to where the picnic was set.

"Oh, and-and aren't they… large," said Cupcake, wrapping one of her hooves around Carrot's foreleg and leaning into him slightly.

Carrot inflated himself and began breaking a croissant in half. As the swans came near, he tossed both halves to the birds.

To his surprise they seemed to eat their halves in seemingly two bites and then began pecking their way through the lunch as though it had been set for their enjoyment.

"Hey! Hey, birds!" called a rather alarmed Carrot as he stood and attempted to gather up his tray of pastries. At once the male swan hissed at him and bit his hoof. After a surprised yelp passed his lips, Carrot reached in once more to retrieve the quickly disappearing evidence of his craft.

This only resulted in him being hissed at once again and getting his other hoof bitten by the swan.

Carrot darted in and grabbed up his tray. The great white bird spread its wings and hissed once more. As Carrot attempted to save the pastries it was all that Cupcake, the ducks, and the chickadees could do to watch without laughing as the female swan ate her fill and the male swan chased a rather put-upon looking Carrot Cake around the picnic in a wide circle.

The bird kept flapping its wings, hissing at the pony who tried to face it down and make up rather fabricated and unimposing threats against it. Every so often he would stop from dizziness or general exhaustion. This would only result in the swan biting his flank and sending the pony once more running around in circles.

As Cupcake watched, she could not help but smile. Soon she was laughing despite her attempts not to: laughing so hard that it awoke the duckling that sat in her forelegs, laughing so hard that the female swan looked up from her feasting with a judgmental glance.

There was a pause. As a heaving Carrot sat in the grass, the male swan grabbed up a pastry and ate it.

With that the two swans traded positions, and now, as the male swan ate his fill and beheld a laughing Cupcake, it was the female who bit and hissed at a rather deflated looking Carrot Cake.

Cupcake could not keep herself from laughing, from looking upon the poor pony who slowly circled the scene. Every so often, he would look to her, look like he was afraid that she was mocking him, that she was soon to leave the disaster that was unfolding.

She tried to show him that she understood, that she did not mean to be laughing, that it was not his fault. He had tried so hard. As he looked back to her with pensive eyes hers, were calm and even understanding as she laughed.

Before long, the swans had eaten all they cared to eat, had settled far away and begun to nap.

Carrot Cake slowly walked back to the blanket and looked over the ruins of the picnic. An entire night's worth of baking sat ruined, now only fit for the birds.

"Miss Cupcake, I'm-I'm so sorry…this, isn't going so well," he said, shaking the crumbs out of a tray. "I'm sorry."

"May I have another glass of tea?" she asked as she slid the glass back over to where he sat, trying her best not to awake the ducklings that slumbered upon her outstretched hooves. He looked down to her glass and then back up to her. At once he filled her glass before returning it.

To his surprise, she returned the duckling to its mother's side. As the glass of tea sat between them, her hoof sat upon his.

"I-I know it's not what you were hoping for," she said as she looked over the desecrated remains of the picnic, "but, but I do appreciate it. I-I had enough to eat, and… please, don't stop trying. I do appreciate it, this day."

"Of course… you're, you're welcome. I'm-I'm so glad," he said smiling back down to her.

Together they sat wordlessly: drinking their tea and watching the warm spring day play out across the millpond. Across the way, a small stand of cherry trees was surrendering its pink petals to the ground. As they were tossed on small breezes or fluttered to the surface of the water, they swirled around in the wash from the big mill wheel. The wheel carried out its constant rhythm with a perfect cadence, the wet sounds seeming almost like a heartbeat.

The sound reached Cupcake as she sat there next to him. As the smells of the forests beyond carried over the water of the river, it reached them with a sweet scent, and soon she felt herself become heavy. As the small peeps of ducklings and cascades of warm air drifted around her she, felt her eyes close. With that, her head lowered upon the nearest inviting place.

There was a heartbeat nearby, and as it matched the turn of the mill, her senses sought it, and soon her head was tucked into the space from which it sounded.

Carrot gave a small sound. He looked down as Cupcake's head lay across his forelegs, pressed against his chest. Inside his mind he sang happily as she soon gave small breaths, and with that, she was asleep across his outstretched legs.

The colt fought to think of the right thing to do. He had wanted to do so much today, had so many plans, so many things he had wanted to show her. Would it be right to wake her? No, no of course not, not with the small look of contentment that lay on the serene face.

Instead, all he could do was look across the body of the lovely mare, ponder the perfect shades of her coat, her mane. How very much like her eyes her mane and tail were. The tones of rose flowed into and out of each other, playing upon one another in highlights and pale symphonies of a shade so much happier than pink, so much humbler than red.

Her coat, he realized, was a shade of blue that one can only speak about in poetry. Words like turquoise, cerulean- these all failed to capture the perfection of the shade.

There was only one word for it, only one that came close.

Beautiful.

She was beautiful.

Inside the colt words grew, phrases that he did not know how to articulate. How to tell her that she was beautiful, but that her beauty alone was not why he felt this way. How to tell her how very little it mattered that she was round?

Yes, she was a little round. That he knew was true, but pleasantly so.

Pleasantly so.

In his head, the only fact that repeated itself was this… that this mare had wanted to spend time with him, had chosen to give him this chance. How could he not try, no matter how badly it went? Is it okay to tell a mare these things on a first date?

The same smells that had drawn her down now reached him as well, those wonderful scents of spring along the river and the pond spread over them. Suddenly these questions did not matter… suddenly the feel of her head upon his legs made up his whole world.

With that he too lowered his head and placed it gently alongside hers.

The ponies laid there together upon the checkered blanket as light fell softly through the branches of the sycamore, and the soft cadence of the waterwheel sounded out in a happy rhythm.

"Miss Cupcake?" came a soft voice. "Miss Cupcake?"

Cupcake raised her head and looked around in a bit of surprise. When she looked to him, insight grew across her face and at once she began to apologize.

"Oh no! Carrot! Did-did I fall asleep? For how long?" she said as she raised her hoof and began to straighten her mane.

"Oh, oh not so long only about an hour or two… or four…" he said, trying to keep up a smile.

"Oh, you're fibbing to me again!" she said, looking upon his face as it drew down in pain. "I can tell… I'm sorry!"

"No, it's okay really," he stammered even as his face contorted.

"If it's okay why do you look so upset?" she asked, her own face sinking.

"Because my legs are starting to wake up!" he answered in a whisper of pain.

She pondered this for a moment, looked down to where her head had been resting. As the colt struggled to stand a pained look shot through him.

She felt herself smiling to him even as she winced. As he wobbled, she began to giggle, offering her own forelegs to help him stand.

The remains of the picnic were soon cleared away, and together the two went up the hill back into the city.

The day shifted from afternoon to evening as they walked and talked, stopping to look over stalls of market goods or just observing the ponies that walked past. Soon their thoughts turned to dinner, the avian-befuddled meal beside the river having lost its potency.

"We-we could eat at the bistro, or Trot's Café, or the restaurant in the Seabiscuit Hotel, or…" he began, rattling off names of places to eat nearby.

"The Seabiscuit," she said, turning that way, gathering his hoof once more to follow. "They have such a lovely quiche, you know." He marveled once more at her decisiveness, how much she seemed to know what she wanted.

Dinner progressed well enough, even though the waiter dropping Carrot's salad upon the colt's lap made for some small discomfort.

As the waiter apologized, Carrot helped him tidy up. Cupcake's small laughter leapt around again, and he looked to her once more with worried eyes.

Yet, kindness sat upon her face. The colt was trying so hard, she knew, wanted this to be special. "Just keep trying," she spoke to herself, "that's all I ask, that you just keep trying."

When they finished their deserts and headed back out into the city, they saw how quickly time had passed. The fireflies were once more making long luminescent trails across the scenes, and following them, the two arrived back at the very park where their time together had begun.

To their amazement the band was still playing, the soft sounds still drifting around the gazebo as a panorama of stars opened overhead and night crept over them.

"Is-is there anything I can get you?" he asked as they sat together upon the bench. "The shop across the way is still open. I'm pretty sure they have roasted almonds. Would-would you like…"

Carrot felt her lean closer into him as the spring air began to turn chilly, felt her hoof ask for his.

"Oh, okay," he said with a smile, gathering her hoof beside his, leaning back into her in the slightest as the music still flitted around them.

All too soon, it was too dark for the band to read their notes, the small lights of the magical lanterns not providing enough to overcome the shroud of darkness.

With a sigh the two lifted themselves from the bench. Carrot grabbed up the hidden picnic basket and laid a few bits in the big glass jar that sat before the gazebo. As the band gathered their things up, they wished the two goodnight, and with that Carrot let Cupcake lead him towards what he assumed was her home.

"Oh, wow! You have a beautiful house!" he said, looking upon the tall, pillared dwelling, one so large it was visible even as they turned down the block.

"It's-it's not mine… I'm-I'm staying with Ivory and her family for the moment," spoke Cupcake, her voice falling down into a tremble. Carrot almost tripped over the tone. It was so different from anything he had heard from her. He nearly stopped to ask her if anything was wrong, but at once she gave a small laugh and pointed to the wide porch as they entered the gates around the house and its garden.

"Oh look," she said in a tone that was at the same time sarcastic and happy, "Mother has waited up for me."

Carrot ran his hoof through his mane, ran his tongue across his teeth to make sure none of his dinner clung there in anticipation of meeting her family. Still, even as he readied himself, he wondered why Cupcake's mother would be at Ivory's house.

As he got his first look, he realized why Cupcake was still giggling.

Ivory herself smiled upon them as he led Cupcake up the steps, the other mare moving aside to make room for them.

"Oh no, Ive! Did I miss curfew?" Cupcake asked in a falsely painted tone of worry.

"Oh, Cuppy!" she said with a laugh. As the two mares turned back to face Carrot, their expressions fell. As the colt stood there in the porch lights, his smile was small, his unhappiness hidden behind it poorly.

"Carrot, Carrot… what's wrong?" asked Cupcake, trotting back over to him.

"Miss Cupcake," he said, his ears falling back in worry. "Now… now that it's over, I-I have to ask. Despite-despite the swans, and the salad, and not actually doing all that much…"

He took a little breath.

"Miss Cupcake, did you have a good time? May-may I see… may I see you again?"

He took a much larger breath.

"I-I really enjoyed being with you. Did-did you enjoy spending time with-with me? I really hope you did. I really, really hope…"

Equestrians rub noses on any number of occasions, and it is not simply reserved for those whom are growing their relationship.

The act occupies a position in their interactions that say many things. An elementary student may rub noses with a favored teacher on the last day of school. A child might rub noses with a beloved cousin whom they have not seen in months.

A colt may often rub noses with both of his parents before he leaves for university for the first time, or when all of his things depart their home for the last time.

It is an appropriate greeting for a pony to give their parents on the occasion of handing them their newborn grandchildren.

It is that much more than a hug, that much less than a kiss. So, it must be said, that one was offered up at the end of a first date means that things must have gone very well indeed by most measurable standards.

"Yes," it said, as Cupcake took a step forward, lifted her nose to his, "I did have a good time… I promise I did."

"Yes," the act spoke as he lowered himself slightly into her, let her begin the small warm motion. "Yes, please, I do want to see you again."

"Yes," it called in very clear terms as they touched themselves to each other, let the feeling of this contact fly between them for a long moment, "I really, really, really like being with you."

Ivory looked upon them with a small smile as they lifted their noses from one another, looked at one another for a long while as they said their goodbyes.

"Carrot?" came Cupcake's voice, lifted into the cool breeze of the spring night.

"Miss Cupcake?" he answered, teetering slightly on the stairs.

"Would you please just call me 'Cupcake' from now on?" she asked as she stood in the doorway. "I'd like it if you would, you know."

"Oh, of course," replied the colt, tilting his head to watch her as the door slowly closed. "Of course. Goodnight, Cupcake."

"Goodnight!" she called back as the thick white door closed behind her.

That was too bad, as through the door she could not see how he had taken a deep breath, how he had gone cantering off through the garden towards the gate with a large dopey smile across his face.

She could not see how he had spun, had given joyful whoops as he leapt through the air like a wild horse, his joy running through him.

Even when he was far beyond the door, he was still running, laughing and calling out joyfully. Out he went, running through the fields beyond the city, dashing among the fireflies that flickered and lit in the wake of his passing.

"She wants to see me again!" he called aloud as he ran past the trees behind the old dancehall.

His calls immediately stopped and his eyes went wide as he tripped over one of the many strings of causality that had been built that day, this one taking the form of a couple who had been hidden among the tall grasses.

As he rubbed his head, he looked back at the scowling stallion and giggling mare. For a brief moment, he could not decide whether to apologize or ask for relationship advice.

Back within the house the big door came closed, and at once an enthusiastic Ivory had spun to entreat upon her dearest friend.

"From that display of affection I take it that it went well indeed," she began. Soon all she could do was look at Cupcake. The mare stood in the hallway, her hoof lifted to her face, resting upon it lightly as she smiled and smiled and smiled.

"Oh, Cupcake, do stop!" giggled Ivory.

"Stop what, Ive?" answered Cupcake in a small tone.

"You're beaming! You're simply radiant, Cuppy!" answered the smiling mare as she lifted her hoof. Slowly, gently she turned Cupcake's face towards the tall hallway mirror.

Cupcake looked deep within, saw her wide smile, saw in that reflection a look of happiness upon her face that she had never seen before. It seemed almost to encompass all of her; it was almost as though a visible aura of contentment had swept the length of her body.

"He just wants to be with me, Ive, he doesn't want anything from me except to just be with me. I-I fell asleep with my head to his chest…"

Cupcake stood staring into the mirror, her hoof moving slowly to her nose. Ivory stared on with a wide smile, tilting her head back and forth to ponder her friend.

"Oh, Ive," Cupcake finally sighed, her voice at first soft and rolling around inside an emotion and then ending in a high tone of realization, "I'm falling in love, Ive… I'm falling in love!"

Ivory lifted Cupcake's chin so that her head rested across her withers. Gathering her friend into a deep hug she spoke softly, rocking her back and forth.

"I am so happy for you, Cuppy," she said as she smiled. "Oh, Cuppy, I am so happy for you!"

Even as that evening drew to a close for Cupcake and Carrot, the strings of causality upon which they had plucked continued to make their quiet music.

In the reaches beyond Ponyville there sat a little farmhouse. Even as the dark of the spring night settled around the house, as the little voices of the insects leapt out across the farm, a single room within was still illuminated by candlelight.

The stallion walked slowly up and down the room, listening with a tired smile as the foal upon his back went on and on and on about her latest triumph.

"Those were the biggest balloons yet! They were balloon-tastic! Balloon-erific! Do you think we can find bigger balloons next week? How about brighter paper for the presents! Ohhh! That's right, I'm out of ribbon! I need more ribbon! Daddy, daddy! How about a piñata that looks like…"

At once she stopped. He was almost as surprised by her sudden silence as he had been by her waking calls, the ones that had sent him into her room in alarm. The stallion turned, looked at her with a thankful smile as a great vast yawn consumed the face of his little filly.

"Here now, time for bed," he said as the filly slowly laid her head against his withers once more.

"But… I wanna plan my next party," she said blearily as her mother entered the room on quiet hooves.

"Hush, hush, hush," spoke her mother, "How can you be so mean to tomorrow?"

"What?" asked the little pony, almost surprised by her mother's question, "Whatcha mean by 'mean', momma?"

"With all the wonderful things tomorrow has planned for you, how can you still be awake?" asked her mother with a small smile.

"Omigosh!" called the little filly, her head wobbling around in tiredness. "If I don't go to sleep it can't be tomorrow! It'll still be today, kinda!"

With that she reached out her foreleg, let her mother lift her gingerly, and with that revelation, the three went up the stairs.

They entered the room quietly, did their best to let the other two fillies sleep as they laid this one into her bed.

"Goodnight kiss, goodnight kiss, oh how I wish I wish…" began the little filly as they tucked her in, the singsong becoming quieter as she went.

"Oh wait," she said as they planted their kisses upon her in turn, "kiss and… wish, don't… rhyme…"

With that the little filly was asleep.

As they made their way out of the room, the mare was surprised that he did not follow her to their bedroom. Instead, he headed down the stairs, and soon the sound of the door opening sounded through the house.

"Clyde?" she asked in a worried tone as she followed, her hooves silent upon the stairs, going gingerly out into the night air.

She found him sitting not far from the house. The stallion sat there, staring up to the night sky, looking to the panorama of stars that sat over his farm.

"Clyde?" she asked again as she sat beside her husband. "Dear, are you well? Are you not tired, love?"

"I have flowin' through me enough sugar to keep me awake long inta' a fortnight," he said with a small laugh.

Roxy laid her head on his withers, sighed in sympathy.

"If it all makes her happy," he said, leaning his head upon hers, "I shall have a party every week for the rest of me days… I shall have parties until me blood runs frostin' and I sweat punch and cider."

The two laughed, looked out to the starscape beyond the rock farm.

"Oh Roxy," he said, closing his eyes and drawing her closer to him. "She saved us all, made this family happy and whole with her mark, bless her."

"Our Pinkamena," said the mare, drinking in his warmth as the spring chill set in, "all spark and smiles. The girls are so happy now, how much better these weeks have been…"

Clyde's head fell, and at once she drew him up.

"What's wrong, love?" she asked, nuzzling beneath his chin.

"I have nothin' for her, Roxy, I don't have anything except my heart to give her. I know nothin' of the world her mark has opened up for her… I have only ever been… quiet. You know that."

Clyde swallowed hard, his head falling once again. Inside a moment he felt her hooves touching beneath his chin, gently lifting his face to look into hers.

"You've only ever been my stallion, Clyde. You've only ever been the stallion I've loved. Whatever the future holds you'll find a way for her, for all our girls. I know that… I believe that," she said, slowly raising herself to him, rising to lay her cheek to his.

He held his mare there, beneath the stars, as he looked out across the stretches of fields of rock. Soon Clyde closed his eyes, gathered her deeper into himself, and shared his warmth with her.

He opened his eyes, looked out across the fields, and breathed a gentle Invoke.

"Oh Celestia," he whispered. "Help me. This isn't to be her world. Help me, let me find some place for my Pinkie, help me make her happy…"

With that the two stood, she motioning for him to follow, to make for their room and the bed beyond wherein they would lie in their shared embrace and await the coming day.

He went with her, his hoof in hers, as they made for the door.

Yet even as they went, his ears perked up. Strings of causality flowed from the rock farm, snapping taut to ponies far over the hills in Ponyville.

As these connections were made, it seemed to him that a voice carried on the small spring breeze, only just audible over the sounds of the insects that chirped happily in the spring night.

Clyde shook his head, laughed to himself as he opened the door for his wife. He must have eaten far too many cupcakes, he thought, if he was hearing things on the breeze.

With that they disappeared inside, and night finally settled around the little farmhouse.

The breeze blew once more, and though there were now no ponies there to hear the murmur, it seemed to repeat itself.

"Fear not. Don't be afraid," it seemed to whisper in the slightest of divine giggles. "I am working upon it. I am working upon it indeed."

Being Quarry means that you learned very quickly that if ponies look upon you, they either feel a smirking superiority or fear. You prefer fear.

Being Quarry means that they will try to use big fancy words to confuse you or intimidate you into doing things their way. You silence them with acts of savagery and then do things your way.

Being Quarry means knowing that some ponies will talk down to you like a child. You learned long ago to answer them with shouts of wrath.

Being Quarry means knowing all of these things, and sitting up long into the night wondering if it ever could have been any different.

A Parting of Ways

Chapter 4: A Parting of Ways

As much as they had wanted to spend this time together, just the two of them in the scent of the gingerbread and the warmth of the oven, the simple fact was that they had other duties to attend to at the same time.

It was Hearth's Warming Eve, and as the regular customers began to enter, she went off to see to their needs. As they did, those with special holiday orders began arriving too, each one asking for their treasures.

He listened to her adorable voice ring out, speak familiar names that answered her with holiday greetings, many even calling out to him over the counter. He replied, his voice filling the room for the first time that morning, exchanging with them wishes of happiness.

He saw her still running back and forth, fetching the orders, and soon he sought to assist her.

She stopped him at the door, gently placing her hoof to his chest. He looked down at her with a puzzled expression. At once, she lifted her hoof and pointed out the frosting that sat resolutely upon his nose.

He looked at it cross-eyed once more, and they giggled in tune. It would hardly do to have the paying public see him so adorned, even if it had a holiday flair. He consented to let her deal with those in the shop beyond while he returned to working on the gingerbread house, letting his wife see to the customers.

Sometimes, they knew, you have to be apart from those you would rather be very near. This was but one of the many lessons they had learned in their lives together, and one that would sadly repeat itself…

Carrot awoke early, made his way first to the bathroom and then down the small hallway.

He paused at the top of the stairs, listened at the door of the bedroom. A breath lingered there, still sounding out peacefully even as the dawn broke through the house. With a sigh of relief, he went down the stairs on silent hooves.

The early morning light of the summer day caught across all of the items he had made the night before. He glanced them over one more time and then began to pack them away in their containers.

Slowly, he placed all of the baked goods within the saddlebags and turned to make himself breakfast.

As always, he made her some too, left the small meal sitting there, possibly for hours. Today though some small movement at the top of the stairs caught his ears, and even as he gathered up his saddlebags her hooves came down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"Oh… are you leaving already?" came a drawn out voice, one that seemed almost worn away. "Today was the day you were telling me about, right? I didn't want to miss it. Today is your last day at the mill, right?"

He turned to face the white mare and gave her a smile.

"Yes mom, today is my last day," Carrot said as she looked up at him.

"Okay, oh, I… I didn't think to buy you anything or…" she began. Carrot looked down and saw how lost she seemed, almost floating in her own thoughts.

"That's okay, mom, you don't need to buy me anything for my last day on the job!" he answered as he forced a small laugh. "If you'd like to, you can buy me something when I open my bakery."

At the mention of the shop, her eyes rose to meet his. The lines beneath them wrinkled first into a small smile and then deflated. As they did her, head fell lower and her entire frail, thin frame seemed to be highlighted by it.

"Mom," he said as his hooves sounded out across the old familiar floorboards, "are… mom, are you going to be alright with me moving out? You haven't said much about it since I told you I closed on the bake shop."

"It's, it's only natural for a colt to want his own space," she said, her eyes moving from side to side, seeming to look at everything in the room except for him, "especially when he has a marefriend."

"Cupcake has been asking about you," he said, lowering his head to look at her. "Would-would you like to meet her?"

The question brought his mother's eyes back up. An expression of happy surprise grew there.

"Do-do you mean it? I mean, you don't have to, but if you do I'd… I'd love to meet her," exclaimed the older mare. "Would you want her to meet… meet me?"

Carrot stepped forward and laid his head across her withers. With a sound of relief, she lifted her own head to the withers of her tall son, letting it rest upon the amber-colored colt.

"Of course, mom," he said as he released her, "I'd love to have her meet you. I'm sure she'll think you're great."

She stood there running her hoof up and down his foreleg, her smile still evident even as she slowly began to lower her head once more.

"Breakfast is on the table," Carrot said, motioning to the little meal that sat on the dinette set, "banana bread and some fruit… don't let it sit and dry up, okay?"

"I have such a good son," she said, taking a step back as he opened the door, "so thoughtful of his old mother!"

"Have a good day, mom. I love you," he said, trotting out into the warm air of the summer morning.

"I love you Carrot, have a good last day," she replied as he looked at her over his shoulder.

She watched him trot down the road to the corner, and then he was gone. She stood in the doorway for a while after that, feeling the heat of the morning, and then slowly closed the door.

She walked slowly back into the kitchen to study the breakfast that the colt had made for her. Cheesecake sat over the meal, looking down upon it. He had made it for her, as he always had, and now all she could do was stare at it.

Of course he had made it for her. He had made her breakfast, and often dinner, for years. If he had not learned to bake, they probably would have both starved to death. He had earned his mark out of need, not pleasure. If he had not learned to bake, he would have gone off to school most morning with an empty stomach.

The morning he had earned the cutie mark that stood upon him, perhaps the most important moment in the life of a pony, she had been upstairs asleep in her bed with some stallion whose name she could not even remember.

She looked down at the banana bread, the slices of cantaloupe and melon, the perfect presentation laid out for her by a colt who loved her. In a flash, all the stallions who had passed through her life that she could say that about drove through her mind: her father, Carrot… and Carrot's father.

She stared back down into her breakfast, saw it already turning dry at the edges as it sat in the sun that streamed in through the windows. As she did, she thought about her freckled, amber-coated colt once more. Despite all that she had put him through, he still loved her. He still wanted her to be part of his life as it unfolded.

Now that she wanted to give him something, to be the mother she should have been, she had nothing left to give.

As Cheesecake stared down at the plate, small tinkling sounds rose from it, and she realized that it was the chime of her own tears striking the surface.

"… and of course I bought the more expensive one."

"Oh, yes… of course," mouthed Cupcake, placing the butter and cream back among the small mountain of ice. Soon, she slid down the line of the buffet, adjusting small items here and there.

To her disgust, the stallion followed along just as he had been since Cupcake had heard him mention her name… her name and the name of one of her father's businesses.

As the breakfast began to wind down, she looked to her employer, Canapés, as she walked among the guests of the country club, chatting with them as she gathered up used plates and old glasses.

As this arrogant colt continued to go on and on and on about his lifestyle in a vain attempt to impress her, Cupcake could already sense where he was going, already knew that he would show his cards early.

As she poured some juices for some older ponies, she tried to return their smiles, but as this conceited colt continued his diatribe, he completely misread every signal she sent him.

She wished Canapés would come over and simply give her some orders that took her far away from this colt, perhaps out to the cart to put away the plates, or begin gathering up all the tools that the caterers had brought with them from Canapés shop.

Instead, all she could do was stand there and mouth little responses to the colt's statements about his wealth, his family's aristocratic background, and make little noncommittal statements in reply as she wiped her hooves across the black apron.

"Uh huh, oh yes," she would state, her eyes focusing far away. "Oh, certainly."

"Very good!" he answered. "Saturday then?"

"What?" asked Cupcake, snapping back to attention, an awful realization striking her.

"When shall I pick you up?" he asked, his eyebrows arching in something he may have assumed resembled a pose of seduction but which instead more closely resembled the pose taken by those having some sort of stroke.

"I'm, I'm sorry! No, no…" she exclaimed, her hoof coming to her mouth. "I-I'm sorry, I must have misunderstood… I, I can't, I… no, sorry… E-excuse me, I must speak with my supervisor."

At once, she began to walk away. To her horror, he followed. As the last few ponies departing the breakfast went past her she heard him calling to her.

"Maybe Sunday, then? You know, I am familiar with your family…"

Cupcake's legs buckled slightly. For what seemed like the thousandth time in her life, a young stallion betrayed his real interest in her.

"… and I'd love to meet your father. I have a real knack for business and…"

An awful shock went along her body, a feeling of revulsion that swept through her. As though in slow-motion, she turned and looked back to see this colt's hoof upon her, literally grabbing for her as he saw his chance for personal advancement escaping his "charms."

"Don't touch me!" she brayed aloud. "Don't you touch me!"

At once the sound of crashing silverware arose from across the room. Canapés, her fellow employee Serving Spoon, and the few remaining patrons of the breakfast looked to where Cupcake stood, the stallion hovering close by.

"No! I said no! Leave me alone!" she cried as she turned and ran, actually giving a small kick as a wild horse would, non-Equestrian in both form and biology.

As Cupcake pelted through the distant glass doors that lined the large sunlit room, the stallion turned and looked over the few ponies within. Seeing none that he considered a threat to his status, he let a smirk cross his lips.

"That's funny," he said to the room at large as he departed, "the fat ones usually appreciate being chatted up!"

Serving Spoon heaved with nausea at the statement. With a nod to Canapés he went out to seek Cupcake.

Cupcake had run far out into the grounds of the country club. She knew that coming here had been a mistake. She had been here too many times with Ivory, too many ponies here knew her, knew how powerful and well-off her father was even if few knew him personally.

She should have gone with Hors D'oeuvres, Canapés partner. She should have switched with one of the other employees and gone to cater the event up the hill in Canterlot. Instead she had chosen this one because she had hoped to be done in time to get to Carrot's party at the mill…

… but that hope had fled away as the guests slowly ate and talked, as Canapés agreed to take on lunch as well. Now she simply found a large tree to lean against as she shook.

Before long, the voice of Serving Spoon echoed across the manicured lawns. She looked up to see him trip slightly as he stepped upon some golf balls on the putting green.

"I-I'm over here!" she called, giving a small sob as she did. With that, he trotted over and stood with her, knowing that all she really needed was someone to be close by.

Serving Spoon himself was in love, in a relationship that was flowering, and together they had "compared notes." The colt knew the feelings that were welling inside her. So, he stood with her and then sat when she sat and awaited Canapés.

Before too long, Cupcake saw Serving Spoon stand. He waved his foreleg across the air, and soon the older mare was with them.

"Serving Spoon?" she asked. "Would you start getting the lunch buffet ready?"

"Sure," he said. "Sure."

He started to move with his foreleg raised and a look of worry falling over him. He leaned down and asked "Cupcake?" in a fretful tone.

She smiled up to him, and with that he smiled and was off.

"Oh, Canapés! I'm sorry! After my outburst, after that, they'll never hire you here again!" said Cupcake, placing her head across the lap of this older mare.

"Sorry nothing, my dear," said the wide voice of the unicorn, "after that they owe you an apology, if anything."

The silence hung there.

"Do, do you want me to report him to the club manager? He shouldn't have touched…"

"No," replied Cupcake, turning her head to look over the green lawns and fairways beyond. "No. He… he wasn't any different from all the rest, don'tcha know? All of the colts who just want something from me… to get closer to my father, saw me as a way to…"

Cupcake trailed off. She knew that almost all of them had only seen her as a prospect. In her mind, she saw all of their opportunistic faces, all of those colts, and she shuddered at the thought of all of their horrible little plans for her.

Instead, she made a list of all of the colts and stallions that loved her without question, who knew her: her grandfathers, her father, her brothers… and Carrot.

"There's only one colt who loves me for me," she said, blinking as the wetness rolled down her face and into the black apron of her employer, "only one colt who doesn't want anything from me."

"Ah, your coltfriend, eh?" replied the older mare as she fixed Cupcake's hair with her magic. "I'm happy that you've found a pony like that, Cupcake. It's so very wonderful."

"Oh, Canapés, I want to be with him right now," said Cupcake as she looked to the blue sky. In her mind she felt Carrot's forelegs around her, driving the remembrance of the foreign, revolting grasp of the arrogant colt from her body. She felt his presence falling over her and imagined him near her, thought of herself in his reassuring embrace.

"I want him to be holding me right now," she said with a whimper. "I want my Carrot."

"Well, I… I think that Serving Spoon and I could manage if you needed to head off," said Canapés as she gently patted the young mare on the head.

Cupcake raised herself up and wiped her eyes with the back of her hooves. "No," she said softly, looking to Canapés, "I-I promised you I'd stay, and…

"Are you sure?" asked the older mare, rising to her hooves.

"Yes, yes, I'm sure," answered Cupcake. Canapés stared at her for a second and then spoke to her in happy, contemplative tones.

"Cupcake," she began, "when Ivory asked me to take you on, I was at first a little suspicious. Especially since, you can imagine, you're going to be my competition some day."

Cupcake raised her head and wondered where the conversation was going.

"But," continued the older mare, "Cupcake, you've been nothing but an asset to me from the day you started. I… well, I know that you're using the money to help your coltfriend start a business, and… and well, I'd like to say I wish you the best… both of you. If you feel that strongly for him he must be special."

Cupcake smiled back, leaned in to hug her employer. With that, the two went off to see to lunch.

Trammel pulled the safety.

It was no accident or scene of lovey-dovey frou-frou nonsense as had been witnessed upon the bagging floor in the past that caused him to do so. Instead, today was to be a celebration, and it was time for the festivities to begin.

"Step to, lads!" called the big stallion. "We've our Soap Suds and Carrot Cake here to lament upon, so all you lot downstairs!"

With that, Carrot pulled his very last bag of flour from beneath the spigot, placed it upon the containers, and watched it disappear down into the bowels of the mill with a certain pride and a small smile upon his face.

Even as he left the bagging stall for the last time, other colts and fillies were already around him and Soap Suds, making little signs of appreciation and wishing them luck.

Soon, almost all had disappeared down the stairs. As Carrot looked on Trammel, congratulated Soap Suds for finding something to match his mark, and with that he too went down the stairs.

Trammel turned to Carrot and smiled at him. "Come now, my fine fellow!" said the stallion. "Can hardly have a party without one of the guests of honor, now can we?"

Carrot returned the smile and looked up to the stallion. "Trammel," he said slowly, "I-I just want to, to…"

"Eh? What is this all about?" asked Trammel, giving a nervous laugh. Carrot sighed and then continued.

"Trammel," he said, once again attempting the line of thought he had begun, "I-I never knew my dad… my grandfather died a few years ago, and… and I just want to say it's been great, it's been great having an older stallion that I could ask… about things. You know, to ask things about how it should all be going with Cupcake. I just-just want to say thanks…"

Trammel chuckled, did not know how he felt about being called "an older stallion." But, he understood, Carrot was being genuinely grateful.

All that needs to be said about what happened next is "awkward guy hug," and the two went down the stairs as well. With that, Carrot embraced the strings of causality around him and closed the chapter of his life that involved the bagging stall.

As the party continued, Ledger reflected upon the table spread before him. Usually, when workers in his mill left during the summer in pursuit of their marks, it was the ice cream that disappeared first, and the cake and cookies and such were the ones left shimmering in the midday sun.

As he lifted his head along the picnic table, he saw the order reversed. Today it was the products of young Mr. Carrot Cake, now leaving his employ, which had been anxiously gathered by those who now sat on the blankets, and it was the ice cream that was in danger of melting.

He looked up to see that colt gathering up plates and saying his goodbyes.

Ledger saw his daughter Ivory speaking with various workers too. All too soon she would be leaving him and her mother, departing their big house where she had lived all of her life and off to her internship in Canterlot. As he pondered the fact that his little filly was so grown up, he suddenly felt the need to ingest as much ice cream as he could get away with without seeming a glutton.

He listened as he heard two ponies she had just spoken to talk about her.

"That filly's almost too smart, you know. Clever pony that one. She'll be running her father's mill inside a decade!"

"The mill? Ha! Mark my words, she'll be runnin' all of Ponyville!"

Ledger almost choked on his ice cream while he tried to eat it and laugh at the statements. His daughter was smart… smart enough to know that running the mill was not her forte.

Politics however…

"Mr. Ledger, sir?"

Ledger put down the tub of vanilla ice cream and turned to face Carrot with a wide smile and an offered hoof.

"Well Carrot, mah' colt," he said as they shook hooves, "turning out then? Best of luck, and do not hesitate to ask if you need anything. I mean anything!"

"Thank-thank you, sir, I really appreciate it. The bonus… the bonus check was almost too generous," said Carrot, lifting his head and trying to show his appreciation through a wide smile.

"Same as anypony gets from me when they go off to make their mark, mah' colt," said Ledger leaning in deeper, "and, Carrot, best of luck in everything… and I mean everything."

It took Carrot a second to get the drift, but when he did he smiled once more. "Thank you sir, I'm-I'm hoping for the best in that regard too."

With that, Carrot completed his goodbyes and with one last long look upon the big brick structure, he departed the mill.

As he crossed around the building, he came to the bridge. Something spun through him as his hooves hit the planks. In that moment, he realized he was actually unemployed… that until the bakery opened, he would have no income. He stopped on the bridge to listen and watch the big mill wheel go around and around with wet sounds.

He looked down into the millpond, felt the river flowing into it, and there he saw the reflection of an amber-coated colt staring up to him.

Freckles. Under bite. Thin.

All of the old worries floated through him, all of the uncertainties. He was taking a risk. He was going out into the world pilotless, knowing only that he knew to bake and hoping that… that if he got the business going, well, she would be able to finally let go.

What ever "This" was, the thing that Cupcake was keeping a secret from him, he hoped against all hope that it could end when she saw that he could make it. As he stared into the reflection, he hoped that he could prove that he could provide for her, for them, that he was willing to do anything for her.

And with that, all would be possible.

Carrot stared down as the mill wheel splashed about. At once he was puzzled. A new reflection had appeared there. After an instant of pondering he knew who it was, and he turned to her.

"Oh! Miss Ivory! I'm sorry, I was just…" he began.

"Carrot," she said, tilting her head as her forelegs rested upon the railing of the bridge, "you've known me for these many months, been dating my best friend, and you still can't bring yourself to call me Ivory? I had hoped by this point you'd be at 'Ive'!"

"Oh, really, but… you, you never told me I could, ya' see," he spoke as he returned to standing on the bridge. She sighed and did the same.

"Walk with me, would you, Carrot?" she asked. With that the strings of causality stretched and pulled him away from the mill and towards a dim path that led to a beautiful horizon.

The two went down into Ponyville, many ponies stopping to greet Ivory. Some even smiled at Carrot and spoke with him as well. Even though he could not remember ever meeting them, they all somehow seemed to know him. He nodded politely as Ivory introduced him.

Within him a realization grew, and he gave a small gasp. These were players; they were pieces in "The Game of This."

Together they walked as the warm summer afternoon played out around them.

"Miss Ivory," he said, watching her grimace as he used her title once again, "I-I want to thank you for all you've done for me, getting the shop ready, for… for Cupcake and I."

Ivory nodded her head. It was obvious, of course, what she had been doing all along. He had noted it back at the table at the dancehall, had seen Ivory guiding Cupcake towards him all along. Now, as they stood outside his shop, he could only ask why.

He looked up to the improvised sign above the door. "Opening Soon!" it read in a bold font, "Carrot Cake's Bakery Co., L.L.C., Inc."

He looked up to see a dubious wrinkle across the face of the mare. "I'm-I'm gonna think of a better name…" he stated.

"Yes," she said, "that would be for the best."

He opened the door, was a little embarrassed to have her see how cluttered and unprepared everything was.

Ivory looked up as something metallic rang out. With the chiming of the bell, his bonus check dropped into the cash register. It was an older one… large, heavy and seemingly made of brass. Carrot had sat up all night teaching himself how to make it work its magic. How did anyone expect their hooves to use these tiny keys?

Somehow it did open at his awkward touch, and as he looked down, he was rather pleased to see something actually sitting inside the drawer apart from some paperclips and a dust bunny.

"Miss Ivory," he asked, blanching a little bit as she sighed at the use of her title once more, "I-I have to ask. Why… would you tell me why you tried so hard, to get Cupcake and I together?"

"Because you use proper language, 'Cupcake and I'," she said with a smirk.

Carrot was a touch confused. He walked slowly from behind the counter and joined Ivory in looking through the dirty windows of the shop. Ponies went by, happy in their routines and enjoying the summer's day that filled the shop with stifling, humid air.

"Cupcake is my dearest friend, Carrot," Ivory said, not looking away from the window, but instead still gazing out into the street. "She has been since her family and mine became close. We went to private school together, have spent almost all of our free time together. I know her better than any other pony, probably her own family."

Carrot turned to look at her. He marveled at how easy words were for this mare, how calmly she was able to express her ideas, how quickly she was able to add flourish to emphasize her meaning. Perhaps politics would work for her?

"She's clever, sneaky when she needs to be, decisive. I've always been fond of that part of her, and I see in you that you appreciate that too," she said, not moving her head.

He nodded.

"None of the other colts did," she said, her voice breaking slightly.

Ivory startled herself. She shook slightly and turned to face Carrot. She pondered the look he was wearing. Soon she realized he was reflecting on a phrase she had uttered. "The other colts" hung in his expression.

"You're not like them, Carrot," she said as she sat, carefully choosing her words. "I know you, you see. From the moment I saw your jaw drop open as she walked by on your first day at the mill, I've been… getting to know you."

Carrot's eyes arched high.

"Forgive me," she said, looking away deep into the shop. She looked back to him, saw him nod. The understanding part of him that she knew Cupcake adored was still there.

"You, you are aware, of course about Cupcake… keeping certain aspects of her life from you," she spoke quietly. She was surprised as he gave a self-conscious laugh.

"Yeah, yeah… I-I call it 'The Game of This.' I don't know what 'This' thing is, but I-I know it's important to her, so I play it. I-I'll play it as long as it takes," he said, turning his own head to look out over the street, "until she feels it's safe to stop."

"Yes," replied Ivory after a short while, "that's, that's an excellent metaphor for it, Carrot."

He smiled back at her. As the two sat there, the sunlight fell across them, and a single green and blue fly bumbled its way across the big pane of glass, its wings humming.

"Carrot," she spoke, "the game."

He looked to her, wondered deeply if he had somehow just lost control of his metaphor.

"To win the game, Carrot," she continued, "all you have to do is be yourself. All that she wants and needs from you is to know that you're not like the other colts, the colts who saw her as something they could use. You're set up to win, everyone in this town desperately wants you to win, I want you to win… Cupcake needs you to win."

His ears perked up and drew in her words.

"I-I know the difficulties you've been through in your life… never having known your father, your mother's… confusing, confusing situation. How you've had to essentially raise yourself. How despite these things you've remained you. You've become you, the loving, caring, considerate colt… no, stallion that you are."

To his surprise, Ivory inched forward, coming closer to him and raising her head to meet his.

"Do not tell Cupcake I said this under any circumstances," she spoke in a forcible, earnest tone, "but, Carrot, you do not always have to wait for permission. At times, it could even be fatal. The time will come when to win 'This', as you call it, you may have to let your love guide you."

The mare's grey mane shifted, made her look older, as though she had been thinking about this for months. In the very roots he saw the pink that she hid from the world.

"You do love her, don't you Carrot?" she asked.

"Yes, I do. I've never loved any mare more," he answered without hesitation.

"Then that is all it takes," she said as a smile crossed her face. "I leave for my internship in a few weeks. I'm going to be up in Canterlot. I'll be working under a Vice Chamberlain of Parliament… a V.C. Fancypants, apparently."

"I'm so glad for you… Ivory," replied Carrot, now understanding her earlier statement fully.

She smiled, gave a self-conscious laugh of her own.

"I leave her with you, Carrot. Cupcake, the one you put first. It's going to be hard for you, as without my house she'll have to… well, that's a secret. But, Carrot, no matter how hard it gets, I trust you. I trust in your love for her… and, Carrot, there's no pony I'd trust more with something so dear to me as my best friend."

Carrot took a deep breath and looked back to her. Slowly, gingerly the two leaned together. Ivory was not as warm, her hug not nearly as personal as the ones Cupcake gave so willingly. Yet the emotion was there, and Carrot accepted it happily.

She asked for no party. Something about the guest list bothered her. Within three weeks, Ivory was gone, departing on a morning train along the winding tracks through the mountains to the capital beyond.

The Deal

Chapter 5: The Deal

Being Quarry means that you have been pursued, that they have pounced on your moments of weakness and used them to rip away parts of you. You have determined never to show weakness again.

Being Quarry means that you started a shipping company. It means that somepony took out an option on your lease of an airship from the bank. When the bank failed, you lost everything.

Being Quarry means moving on, trying everything, only to have everything stolen from you in backroom deals and leveraged options and the games played with imaginary money on stock charts.

Being Quarry means that you landed in Ponyville. There something happened that had never happened to you before. You made a friend.

Clyde watched her skip along, watching happily as Pinkamena made her little game of flipping the rocks. She sang to herself as she made them rest once more upon the good earth, letting them grab at these last few rays of the light that the sovereign's sun draped over them. The rocks filled with magic, pulling it up from the very earth and drawing it from the sun.

It would be a good crop this year, but it was his child and not his harvest that sat at the forefront of his mind.

Geoculture was not her world and he knew it. As he too began scouring the landscape, he looked at all of his beautiful daughters. Clyde saw how they communed with the land as good earth ponies should, but he knew that their hearts were not in it.

This was not their world, and someday they would have to leave, would need to leave.

Pinkie would have to leave first. This life could not keep her long, and no matter how many parties they consented to throw, they could not help her attain the life her mark had planned for her.

Clyde sighed, kicked at one of the myriad rocks that littered the ground around the long acres of his farm.

Her humming stopped. Clyde lifted himself, panned his head across the panorama of his fields. His eyes settled on Pinkie once more, and at first he was confused.

Suddenly he saw his daughter light up, saw the wonderful energy stir within her. He could not help but smile as her face went wide with a vast smile, as she began to hop around in happiness.

"Poppa, poppa!" she called out. "Come and see what I found! I found the neatest little thing and, and… it's a thing!"

He smiled as he began to trot across the soft earth that was wet with the chilly dew of autumn. As he did, he realized that a frost could not be far away. He, as much as any other farmer, agricultural or geocultural, would soon have to harvest the fruits of their labor or risk having it locked deep within the frozen earth.

Inkie and Blinkie trotted up to him. At first the pair followed him, peering around him with cautious curiosity, but soon they were pelting forward as Pinkie began to laugh and smiles lifted across her face.

Upon reaching his daughters, he saw something upon Pinkie's foreleg. Inside an instant, he relaxed and smiled, realized that it was nothing more than one of the harbingers of the autumn now unfolding.

"Tis' a Woolly Bear caterpillar, dear, and a fat and fair little fellow at that! See the bands of black?" he said, pointing out the two deep shades at either ends of the tiny creature. "Even the least of the creatures in Equestria can know how the pegasi shall set the winter, thus is the magic in all things that live beneath the sun of Celestia."

"Even us earth ponies?" called the girls in time. Pinkie giggled as the creature crossed up her foreleg to her shoulder, its bristles tickling her.

"Aye', us too," he said, watching the sisters pass it gently between them, each of his darling daughters giving small giggles as it crawled past their shoulders, their withers, over their necks, and down their backs.

"Come now, let us find it some space of comfort and be back to our work," he said as he turned and set his sights on the tree line beyond the farm. As they went, the girls still passed the caterpillar between them, watching it with interest.

Suddenly a horrible realization shot through Clyde, the realization that his daughters had never taken the time to do something as simple as lift a caterpillar, commune and sense the nature of this world.

His eyes went once more to Pinkie as they reached the trees. As she pranced up and down, she selected a fine tall ash tree, and with that, Inkie lifted the caterpillar to the leaves. As the leaves had already been tinged with autumn shades, the caterpillar was soon lost among them. With sad sounds the ponies turned back to the fields.

As he saw Pinkie bounce along, he heard her try to compose a song. As she did, she stumbled through the verses. To his consternation she used the word "orange" to attempt to describe the leaves of the coming autumn, and with that, her rhyming shut down and his filly tripped through the fields of rock.

She was growing into her mark so quickly, he realized. Her perceptions were expanding in so many ways. Yet, he did not know how to help her. Even an event as simple as finding the caterpillar had swirled around her, caught in her love of surprise and new things. It had brought them all this new experience and a simple moment of joy, and still he did not know what to do for her.

He closed his eyes and made a small Invoke. "Do not worry," answered a divine voice on the breeze that flowed out of the woods. "It moves… it comes in time."

He though could not hear it. The laughter of his daughters had already filled his ears. As Clyde watched them run and call to one another his features were serene, and he breathed easier in the cool autumn air.

The main showcase room of Sugar Cube Corner had gone quiet, the customers and their holiday tidings having departed as the mid-morning rush dissipated.

Cup Cake looked out the windows and saw that the pegasi were drifting down a few flakes, just as scheduled. They were decorating the city, giving Ponyville that last little dusting that would make Hearth's Warming Eve that much more picturesque.

A family went by the window, the foals filled with excitement. Cup Cake went to the window. Certain unanswered Invokes went through her as she watched the foals walking beneath their parent's legs. She listened as they made cries of anticipation that seeped into the bakery.

She placed her hoof to her body. A certain sadness lingered there.

Frost was growing at the corners of the window, and as she watched, it seemed as though the crystals themselves were expanding before her eyes.

Cup Cake heard Carrot's voice, heard him humming a holiday tune. It was the same one that she had begun as they had worked together, and soon her thoughts turned to rejoining him.

She trotted back into the kitchen. As she looked up she saw him working on a few other small details as the gingerbread house came closer and closer to being ready.

She watched as Carrot tentatively added some small pieces. She smiled as he deliberated upon where to place the last few structural elements: the shutters, the chimney, and the trim.

As he rested his head in his hoof, he sighed. Carrot looked up to her as the big white waft of frosting still sat upon his nose, and he gave a smile of resignation.

He was calling on her again, calling on her to make a decision, just as he had hoped that she would make long ago.

With soft hooves she began to cross to the table, but as she did, she felt herself brush against something. She looked down and saw a bag. Opening it, she gave a small gasp as a silver package expertly tied with fine ribbons and a large bow revealed itself.

She looked up to him, held it in her hoof. He too shared her gasp, realizing what they had just done… the mistake that they had made.

"So, I found a company that was willing to make you a loan offer on what I consider fair terms," said the realtor.

Carrot did his best to listen, tried to comprehend the talk of money and interest rates. However, terms did escape him. All Carrot knew was that he was sick… sick of Cupcake and himself being apart.

Ivory had left just as summer was winding down. Already her presence was keenly missed; already the toll on Cupcake was obvious.

He opened his bakery just in time to make a bid to make the snacks for the school district, the special treats that fueled the young minds through the morning of learning.

To no one's surprise more than his own, he had won.

The money was no fortune, but it certainly was something. It was proof that he could bake for a living.

Cupcake was spending her time getting ready as well, that he knew. She seemed a little lost without Ivory near, and in those times when she came around to the shop, he tried to fulfill his promise to Ivory, to be everything he could for this mare, to try to give her his comfort.

More often than not, he found to his happy relief, she was very, very willing to accept his affections.

But as the time went on, he had realized that she had moved towards helping him at the shop. What should have been an amazing and happy revelation for him instead filled him with worry.

He did not want her to be his employee… he wanted her to be his lover, his friend.

She had begun making plans. He had found drawings she had left behind when she trotted off at night to wherever she was living now. Her idea was clear: to change the building, make it an advertisement. He gazed over a picture of his bakery wrapped in colorful trim, looking more like a gingerbread house than a structure.

He had to admit, it was clever. Not exactly the most manly thing he would have thought to put on his bakery, but… clever.

At the moment, though, autumn was setting in, and soon the dry season would start for the catering business.

He did everything he could to take her mind off the fact that soon she would be furloughed from Canapés catering business, that she would be unemployed like he had been.

Together they went for long walks through the Whitetail Woods, or went up to a nearby farm to go apple picking, selecting the biggest fruit to take home to the shop. Some days they would just sit and watch the colorful trees bob on small breezes.

As they had walked through the Harvest Fair, he had bought her knick-knacks from stalls, done his best to win her prizes, done all that he thought a proper coltfriend was supposed to do in such a setting.

Her laughter when he had fallen over backwards as he tried to lift the hammer to ring the bell, or when the ball had bounced back and struck him in the nose at the dunk tank… that wonderful sound reassured him that she knew what he was doing, appreciated how happy he was trying to make her.

As they had sat together, she wrapped warmly in his forelegs, staring out into the fair as the lights flickered on, he had felt a powerful realization. It was then that he realized something about "The Game of This," the intangible secret that was still filling her and making her worry.

She had given a happy sigh and then yawned, wiped her head against his chest as the music of the midway had floated over them. It was then he had realized that "This" was like a carnival game. He may be playing it, but it was playing him right back. It was in competition with him.

As long as "This" existed, then these fleeting moments, these all too short hours together, this is all they would have.

He did not like not being able to walk her to wherever she was living. He hated not being able to draw the fear and worry out of her. He hated the almost inescapable urge to sneak along after her, follow her after their goodnight kiss, risk shattering the trust she had placed in him.

He was starting to hate "This" again. Hate it utterly.

He wanted to see what her body was like when she was free from worry. He wanted to look into those rosy eyes when they were not filled with a long, drawn-out plan.

He wanted to see her liberated from her worry, only happy…

Carrot began to blush slightly, even as he and the realtor went up the high street of Ponyville, even as the grey and bespectacled realtor went on about interest rates and mortgages.

Carrot felt himself being drawn into his own happy thoughts… the thoughts of her, warm, safe, and happy to be near him.

The amber-colored colt let an image slip into his mind, let one that he had been nursing gain just the slightest bit of traction in his conscious thoughts. It filled him as they went down the cobblestone streets, the weight of his saddlebags shifting around him.

In his mind's eye he saw her in the bed, his bed… the very bed at the top of the stairs in the room above his shop.

He saw her lying there, a soft look across her face, a happy look as she slept peacefully. He felt her along the length of his body as the night air washed over them through the open windows…

"Ahem!" came the voice of the realtor, snapping Carrot out of the contemplation that was sending a rather serene look across his features.

"We're here," continued the grey stallion as he reached for the door of the loan office.

Carrot looked up and tried to figure out where exactly the realtor had brought him. The building was short and half-timbered. It was a simple yet robust place. He gazed upon the sign painted in the window, trying to read it in the midday sun.

"Hospitable Loan and Trust" it read in a rather nondescript font. Below it read the name of the proprietor, owner, and loan officer. All the titles were rolled into one, all of their ellipses leading to a single name that stood out boldly.

It was a short, strong name, one that caught against Carrot's thoughts.

At once the name that lay there caught inside his memory, ignited something within him that he desperately knew he should remember. He looked at the name once more, tried to think of where he had heard it.

At once he felt of the hooves of the realtor upon him, shoving him to the ground, interrupting the chain of memories that was linking him back to the name.

As he hit the ground there was a rumble, and a wild horse whinny. He looked up to see something that awakened all of his remembrances.

The massive stallion stood in the doorway, and on the ground there sat another stallion, this one holding his head.

To Carrot's horror, blood began to drip from the stallion's ear.

At once all of the happy thoughts of his ladylove lying in moonlight emptied out of him, dripped away as surely as the red droplets that were falling from the terrified stallion before him and plopping against the cobblestones.

"I'll-I'll sue you for that! That's assaul…" he began.

"You try! You try and we'll see what the law has tah' say 'bout the thousand bits you just stole from me!" answered the stallion in the doorway, his eyes wide and fierce.

"But-but," continued the smaller stallion, struggling to rise from the ground, "I-I didn't…"

"You didn't what? You didn't think I'd find out!? Think that yer' too smart for me, ya' buckin' piece of trash!? Ha! Ah've been robbed blind by smarter bucks than you!" answered the huge stallion. With a toss he threw all manner of papers out over the bleeding, whimpering stallion that stood in the street.

"I'm takin' all the collateral, the deposits too," answered the huge, rippling stallion as a touch of foam gathered in the corner of his mouth. "You're liquidated. Try takin' it tah' court, see how that works for ya'!"

The stallion barely moved, yet his angry eyes still caught Carrot in their glare.

"You mah' 12:15?" the massive stallion hissed.

"Yessir," Carrot whispered.

"Gimmee five minutes tah' clear up a bit," said the stallion, beginning to shake and tremble as though he were literally trying to drop the anger out of himself.

"Yessir," answered Carrot. Inside an instant the stallion had turned back inside the loan office.

Carrot's head went back to the sign. The name stood out as though it was made of a luminescent magic, highlighted and bolded as it flew through his memory. His thoughts flew back over months to the start of the summer that had now passed, back to the day he had seen this pony similarly enraged, standing in front of the mill.

Quarry. The loan officer was Quarry.

As he sat in the reception room Carrot watched the secretary readjust a few things and then go back to work as though she barely noticed him.

Carrot rummaged through his saddlebags and made sure that all of the papers were there, and the little container too.

Despite the realtor's assurances that he would be fine, Carrot could not help but notice that he had not bothered to stick around.

A new wave of cursing went through the room beyond the door, and at once Carrot and the secretary looked up towards it.

Carrot turned back first and looked down into his saddlebag. He looked up just in time to see the secretary staring at him over her glasses.

"Don't sweat it, Sweetie," she said with surprising certainty.

"What, what should I do," asked Carrot with a touch of desperation, "if he gets mad?"

"Try to go limp," she answered.

At once he heard the stallion call him, and even as he stood, he felt his body already following the offered advice.

"C'mon and have a seat," spoke the stallion, the grey eyes already affixed to Carrot as he entered the room. Carrot was surprised by how sterile and how utterly unadorned the office was. No plants, no inspirational posters, no family photos… just the desk, the cabinets, the two chairs, and the stallion who regarded him balefully.

"Good-good afternoon," said Carrot, "I'm here because you-you're high-highly rec…"

"Where in the Well do I know you from?" interrupted Quarry, the huge stallion leaning across his own forelegs and regarding Carrot with a suspicious glare.

"I-I worked at, I worked at Mr. Ledger's mill," said Carrot, forcing himself not to tremble.

"Oh," replied the stallion as he leaned back, "should'a recognized the name. Carrot Cake. You quit the mill, Cake?"

"Yes, well, no sir, no… Mr. Ledger knew, knew that I'd be going when I found something that… that matched my mark. He-he does…" stuttered Carrot.

"Yeah, Ledger does that. Done that for a lot of colts and fillies. That's one of the things I like 'bout Ledger," spoke Quarry without lifting his eyes from Carrot. "He's a good stallion, they're good ponies."

Carrot was surprised at how much more relaxed and calmer Quarry became when he mentioned Ledger's name. His tone and volume dropped as though in reverence.

"If Ledger sees somethin' in ya', Cake," spoke the vast stallion, his voice a low rumble and his eyes still judgmental, "I'll hear what ya' have to say."

It never became easy in that room; the feeling of menace that flowed off the stallion never dissipated. Yet as Carrot went through his practiced lines, he thought about why he was there, about how getting this loan would allow him to finish buying the equipment he needed. It would allow him to open up his shop to walk-in patrons rather than just ponies he was contracted to.

Something of Carrot's simple joy filled his words. Even when he came to the hard part, the part about numbers, he just let the image of Cupcake fill his head. The thought of her with him in the kitchen, the idea that she wouldn't need to work a job to help him, could just be there with him. This image filled his mind even as he looked up to the large stallion who gazed down on him implacably.

With her in his mind, the rest became that much easier, if not easy.

When he spoke of her, he did not use her name, instead a different word came to mind, a word that he realized spoke more about them than just how they were working to grow his business. "Partner" he called her, his partner. She was not an employee after all … he wanted her to see him as her lover, her friend, and her partner.

This last bit he kept in his own head, as Quarry did not seem to him to be the type to be swayed by romantic notions.

Quarry lifted his head as Carrot told him about how he had won a contract with the school district, how his clever partner had gone from market stall to market stall finding sellers who could sell breads with their products. In one day they had won five contracts in such a manner. Quarry seemed impressed… sort of, maybe.

"And, and th-that's all I have to, say, really," said Carrot, dropping his head. At once he remembered something he had wanted to do.

With that Carrot opened the tin and placed it on Quarry's desk. There in the mess kit stood a piece of carrot cake, a slice very much like the ones that made up his mark.

Quarry stared at it for a second. With a wicked smile he took it in hoof and looked to Carrot. "Cute," he said as he lifted it to his mouth. The stallion chewed slowly and gave a little nod.

With that he slid a piece of paper in front of Carrot. As Carrot looked it over, he could barely read. Quarry was walking around the bare room, chewing on the carrot cake loudly, watching Carrot as he read.

A sudden shock went up Carrot's back. He realized in terror that the stallion had one of his hooves on his shoulder. Trembles of disgust went up Carrot's spine and the deep, wet smell of the stallion's breath drifted over him, tinged by the slight smell of the carrot cake.

"Ya' know what the stupidest statement in all of Equestrian history was, Cake?" asked the stallion, his voice once more a rumble, his breath once more thick across Carrot's face.

"No, sir," spoke Carrot, giving a shudder.

"It was this: 'It's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission'," said Quarry, looking over Carrot's shoulder as he read the paper. "The son of a bitch who said that smirked as he said it, then asked for mah' forgiveness."

Carrot swallowed hard.

"I'm told he still walks with a limp, Cake."

Carrot closed his eyes, tried to fight for breath.

"Those are fine terms there, Cake, good ones. Ledger likes ya', sees somethin' in ya'. That means something to me. I think you've got some plans, and I'll back ya'. But, Cake, if you try to lie to me, try to steal from me, or if I think you've used me…"

Quarry looked down, saw the paper shaking, and knew he did not need to go on.

"You got a name for this place, Cake?" asked the stallion, removing himself from hovering over Carrot. Carrot felt himself breathe again, and as he exhaled, he spilled the name across the desk.

"Carrot Cake's Bakery Co., L.L.C., Inc.," he stated in a voice that betrayed how very much he understood Quarry's meaning.

"That's a damn lousy name, Cake," replied Quarry, sneering as he stared out the room's sole small window.

"I'm-I'm thinking of changing it," said Carrot, staring up to Quarry as he tossed a quill upon the desk and pointed to the small bottle of ink.

"See that ya' do… sign the buckin' paper already."

As Carrot left the office, the secretary was surprised to see him smiling. She was even more surprised when Carrot laid one of the other pieces of carrot cake on a napkin across her desk.

As she thanked him, he left, his head held high and a great fat check in his saddlebags.

"He seems like a nice young colt," said the secretary as she began to nibble on the little offering.

"Meh…" answered Quarry as he looked out across the reception room with no expression evident on his face.

Outside, Carrot trotted happily towards the bank. Now he felt that everything else would fall into place. Now Cupcake could leave the catering job and would not have to find another one. Now they could spend that time together in the bakery.

Now they were that much closer, he believed, to winning "The Game of This."

As the light of the autumn day fell through golden leaves around him, Carrot was unaware of something very important. He could not know that "The Game of This" had just been upset by his act. He could not know that he had just committed a bitter offense and that a yellow card was now being held high over all he wished and hoped for.

Certain Advice

Chapter 6: Certain Advice

When Carrot slapped his forehead with his hoof, he was careful to avoid the dollop of frosting that still sat on his nose.

For the first time that morning, something had gone wrong, something that threatened their creation.

The silver package, wrapped tightly with bows and shimmering paper, stood before them on the table. This was a problem, as they had meant for it to be discovered when the gingerbread house was eaten.

In short, they both realized as they looked at one another with long looks of concern, they had messed up.

Cup Cake brought him the two long stanchions, her decisiveness coming into play. To their annoyance, their hoofwork had been too good. The foundation had already set, their prowess with the frosting working against them.

As they set the gingerbread carefully upon the twin stanchions, they made sure that it supported the structure, that the walls were now taking the entire weight of the gingerbread house.

With that, she passed him a fine-toothed knife, and he went to work removing the foundation.

Carrot's practiced hooves sat the knife against the seam of frosting that held the walls to the foundation. The entirety of the project was now on the line, and together they would have decisions to make if they were to save it.

He looked up to her. With a nod she told him to press on, and her mind went back to another time she had made a decision…

"And we'll have browns, and reds, and oranges, and it there will be pumpkins and cornstalks and we'll go bobbing for apples and have a hay wagon ride. Oh, hey! Where are we going to get a wagon? Do any of our neighbors have wagons we could borrow? Oh! Oh, oh, oh! We could have the neighbors come too! But, wait, if they have wagons already then a wagon ride wouldn't be much fun, what could we ride instead… how about we ride their wagon and then we…"

Clyde sat at the dinner table and watched her go through yet another detailed, essentially breathless, description of a party she was planning.

They had never had a Nightmare Night party here on the farm. They had carved pumpkins, told a ghost story or two, had a few snacks… but then it was off to bed. There was work to be done, after all.

But these last few months since she had found her cutie mark had been different. Everything had become different. They were all different.

As their mother placed their dinner upon the table, Clyde was able to interrupt her implores long enough to make lead an Invoke, and soon she was once again pouring forth her ideas.

Clyde looked to Inkie and Blinkie, the two other fillies each showing supreme interest in their sister's vision.

Clyde stared down the length of the table, past where Pinkie waved enthusiastically as she named all sorts of autumnal ideas with which to festoon her celebration, and looked to where his wife sat and ate her small share of the meal.

Roxy caught his eyes upon her and gave him a small smile. She watched him give a big sigh, and soon a look of astounded exasperation went across his face.

Clyde waited as Roxy's reply came across the table, mouthed wordlessly over the continuing oration of their pink daughter. "It will be okay," she told him without words. "We'll get through it."

He smiled back to her. He knew she was right.

Still…

These last months had been happy, but it was not as though these weekly, and sometimes even more frequent, celebrations did not come at a cost. Autumn was a time for he and his fellow geoculturalists to begin gathering in their rocks, to harvest the magic of Equestria that had settled within them as the blessed sun had fallen over them during the summer.

A delay of a day may not mean much, but it did mean more work for him. And, he knew, he was not getting any younger.

Appropriately and prophetically, a single one of the grey hairs of his mane drifted down to his plate, blemishing his meal. He carefully removed it, looked at it for a second before laying it aside and returning to his supper.

The purpose of her mark, he realized, needed to reveal itself. There had to be some way for her to do so, or he would soon be fat with party food and bald from worry.

Pinkie's cheerful reflections soon faded as she ate, going up and down in time with however much food she was simultaneously trying to eat and voice her ideas.

"Pinkamena," her mother scolded in soft tones. "Now is the time for eating…"

"Okee dokee!" replied the filly, settling back into her seat as her two sisters giggled slightly and returned to their own meals.

Small conversation arose from around the table as the dry leaves of autumn floated around the farm, catching against the silo, the barn, and upon the very rocks that gave the farm its purpose.

The city of Ponyville was alive in the warm evening as lights fell from the faces of pumpkins that bobbled with candlelight.

"Oh, look! That whole building is dressed up for Nightmare Night!" came the voice of one small pony. Carrot turned to look upon the next visitor to the shop.

He stood in the doorway; the double boiler disguised as a cauldron wherein stood the melted caramel. Apples stood impaled upon their sticks nearby, drying in the night air as he tried to find who would be the next to come and receive his offered treat.

The bakery had been dressed up. It looked more like a gingerbread house now and the change was permanent. The ploy had been Cupcake's idea of an advertisement.

He settled over three little figures that smiled at him. He looked to the older pony who was guiding them. As he did, an awareness jumped up at him.

As he removed the gauze from his face, he realized he was either looking at the very worst Princess Celestia costume in the history of Equestria or the very best Princess Cupcake costume that anypony could imagine.

He went with the latter.

He stared at the little colt and fillies who looked up to him with big smiles, then back to her. As a thousand questions shook through him, he looked to her, his puzzlement apparent even beneath his costume.

"This is Aunt Cupcake's good friend, Mr. Carrot Cake. What do you say?" she said.

"Nightmare Night, what a fright! Give us something sweet to bite!" chimed out the costumed trio. As they did, she smiled to him, her fake wings and horn bouncing around, and he back at her as the gauze once more slipped over his eyes.

"Oh, alrighty!" he replied. "Come over here and we'll make you up some apples!"

Cupcake watched contentedly as the foals gathered around him, as he showed them how to carefully cover the apple, spin it to give it an even coat.

With that he held the caramel apple up, let it sit on a nearby drying rack covered with appropriate decorations.

"So this is your shop?" asked the little colt cheerfully as he and his sisters selected their apples.

"Yup!" replied a Carrot Cake who beamed with pride. "Carrot Cake's Bakery Co., L.L.C., Inc!"

"That name's really stinko!" replied the colt.

"Careful for your apple," replied Carrot, his mummy costume hiding a scowl that he did not want Cupcake to see. She giggled as he looked to her and saw her adjusting her costume once more.

"You don't need to put the business cards on these," she said as he lifted the crown farther up her head and helped it settle, "save them for the paying customers, you know."

"Right," he agreed, his voice becoming softer as he gazed happily over the mare. "Sure thing, Princess Auntie Cupcake."

The two looked at one another and then down over the colt and fillies that jabbered excitedly as their creations came to life. Adding the business cards to the string that bound the completed caramel apple together had been Cupcake's idea, as was having him show off his confectionary skills here at his shop.

As dozens of happy Nightmare Night celebrants had trotted away from his bakery, he knew she had been right, as she had always been.

Soon the caramel apples were ready, and he wrapped them up and set them aside for the foals to pick up after the night celebrations were complete.

As the three foals met with friends who were soon to make apples of their own, Cupcake and Carrot smiled happily, each seeing how excited the foals had been.

He looked to Princess Cupcake once more and again helped her adjust herself. Their costumes were perfect metaphors. His was well done but not suited to him, hers an excellent idea but needing some touches. Between them both they knew that if the other had been involved, his practiced touch and her firm decisiveness, they would have turned out better.

"We should help each other with our costumes next year," he giggled as he lowered the gauze. "May-maybe even wear matching costumes."

"Yes, yes we should," she giggled.

As the sounds of the Nightmare Night celebration lifted beyond, the focus of the foals shifted there. At once he felt her hoof come to his mouth, dropping the gauze that stood there.

For a long second she lifted her kiss to him and then sheepishly turned to her nephew and nieces. Seeing them still distracted, she risked nuzzling beneath him, let the fake horn fall and wings shudder, and then moved out into the street again.

"You look good with kids. I mean you look like you're good with kids," he breathed.

"Yes, we do… are, I am," she answered, blushing at her subconscious selection of words.

He watched the four head off as a new group of foals gathered to his cauldron, saw her look back at him with a smile as they departed.

As he led the next group through making their apples, he thought about what she had just done. She had just introduced him to her family.

Well, kinda. She had chosen the word "friend," had not let on that they were involved. She had hidden her kiss from them. Why had she done that? He pondered this for a moment, only stopping when a shock of pain from hot caramel went up his foreleg.

Still, she had taken the risk, gone that much further. She had taken another step in "The Game of This." He searched the distance for her. As his imperfect princess disappeared into the crowd, he knew it was now his turn to give her a reason to offer more.

Time moved forward. As though it were a stage direction, time drove onward but the scene itself went largely unchanged. Only the final fall of the leaves as the hooves of the runners had pelted past showed the participants in the game that the world of the two principal actors was drawing closer together.

"Geez, mom," he whispered, "I told you she was coming…"

"I-I meant to straighten, get straightened up," began Cheesecake as she gave a small tremble and ran the brush across her coat in a worried motion. As she looked on, Carrot dumped various things into the hall closet.

"I did, did get a few things to eat, so we…so we could have a nice chat," she said, looking first to him and then back up to the door. A shadow across the nearby window showed the outline of a mare who waited patiently to be shown inside.

"It's okay mom, let me just get these put away," Carrot said as he placed more items within.

He turned to see his thin mother looking towards the door, her hoof to her mouth. Slowly, he walked to her and laid his head to hers.

"I-I don't want to embar…" she began.

"She's gonna love you, mom," he interrupted, "just be you and everything will be fine…"

With that, he opened the door, and Cupcake entered his childhood home.

The conversation went surprisingly well. Soon the two mares had made their introductions and were complimenting each other on how wonderfully their manes had been made up, how nicely the flowers were arranged, how beautiful the drapes were.

By the time they were discussing the best local hairdressers, pony pedicures, and all these other things that appealed to mares, Carrot had suddenly remembered that he was, in point of fact, a stallion. As such, that type of talk essentially made him wish for nothing more than the sweet release of death.

"I'll get us something to eat," he said as he stood and went to the kitchen. He trotted out into the old familiar space and looked in the cupboards. He found them shockingly bare. Soon, the jelly cupboard and the pantry too proved to be essentially empty.

Old worries went through his mind. In an instant he had thrown his head into the icebox.

It took him a second to realize that all that stood within was a box of baking soda, a rather old bottle of milk, and a tray of cheese with a few handfuls of crackers. He realized it was probably all that she had thought to make up.

"Oh mom," he whispered as some of the fears he had long had for her when he moved out came to life. Why was there no food? When had she last eaten a real meal?

He lifted the tray and brought it into the living room. "I'm just gonna run out for a second." he said, "Grab some things. I'll be right back."

He realized that the mares had barely even heard him. Cheesecake was far too busy showing Cupcake any number of embarrassing pictures of him as a foal from the wide selection of albums that were coming off the shelf. As they giggled, he rolled his eyes and slipped out the door.

He had intended to head for the market, maybe grab up enough produce and cheeses to make a proper meal. As he turned down his old familiar street into the fountain square, he witnessed something that made him stop and have his jaw drop open.

As ponies hurried past him in the opposite direction, a booming, rumbling voice dove down and then back up again with a call of rage. Soon, it was high in an endless stream of curses that drove even more ponies from the area around the fountain in fear.

As Carrot looked from behind the monument, he saw why.

A carriage stood there, the driver and two ponies who were supposed to be pulling it looking on in horror. They tried to get out of their harnesses as a great vast stallion circled it while foaming and hissing.

"Come out of there ya' son of a bitch!" shrieked Quarry, ramming his shoulder against the carriage so hard that it shook. "I recognized the smell of yer' damn cologne the second you crossed the bridge! Didn't think ya'd ever have to see me again did 'ya? Did 'ya!?"

Carrot shook as Quarry once more rammed himself against the carriage. He saw the huge stallion literally lift it off two of its wheels, the carriage only righting itself when the stallion skidded on the wet leaves that stood across the cobblestones.

To Carrot's horror the loud screams of a filly-foal began to rise from within.

"Never thought you'd have to see me again, huh? The way you and yer' damn little cabal sold me out of the grocery market! Thought ya'd never have to pay for leavin' me standing in the street wondering where in the Well you'd all gone off ta', not leavin' me a bit! That what you thought, you goat buckin'…"

Carrot stared on in fascinated horror as Quarry literally ripped the door handle off the carriage. As the door flopped open, Quarry fell from the running boards to the ground, crying in pain and then heaving for breath.

Carrot looked up to the carriage. Within it he saw the horrified face of a well-dressed unicorn stallion with his forelegs across a mare and a little filly-foal who screamed in fear, the stallion shielding them even as fear grew on his own face.

"Oh Celestia! Quarry, Quarry!" the unicorn stammered as though he were only just realizing who this frothing earth pony was. "That, that was years, decades…"

As Quarry rose, he bellowed, roared. At once the unicorn's magic snapped the door shut. In a rage, his eyes alive with wrath, Quarry threw the handle awkwardly at the carriage as best he could with a trembling hoof.

Carrot felt his hoof go to his mouth as he saw it strike the driver.

The poor pony fell from the seat, clutching at his forehead. Even as he fell, the two other ponies still fought to get out of their harnesses, and one now tried to reach for his fallen partner.

Quarry had climbed up the carriage and was literally ripping at the satin roof with hoof and tooth. "Come out! Come out ya' udder suckin' goat bucker!" he called as he reached within, ripping away at the carriage as long strips of satin came up around him and drifted down to settle among the leaves that littered the ground.

Carrot's heart went to his throat, his ears drumming. The sight of Quarry fishing through the roof of the carriage, the fearful shrieks of the filly within, the calls for help from her mother, the unicorn stallion calling to Quarry— these all painted a picture of Quarry in Carrot's mind that horrified him, a picture that made him shake and tremble.

"Never thought of that did ya'!? Never thought I'd have actually be waitin' for the chance tah' drag my due outta ya, huh!?" bellowed Quarry. "Now yer' in Ponyville, my Ponyville, and here ain't nobody gonna save yer'…"

At once the driver, blood streaming across his forehead, leapt for Quarry. As the driver caught Quarry, the stallion turned, kicked at him and cursed.

"Quarry!" erupted a familiar voice, one that sounded as horrified as Carrot felt.

Carrot saw Quarry's enraged features lift, and as though in desperation, a great flash of unicorn magic flashed from deep within the carriage.

At once Quarry fell backwards. He paddled through the air and went to the ground on the far side of the carriage. A quick motion on the other side betrayed the driver giving Quarry a kick and receiving a hoof to his midsection in a reply that lifted him high into the air, sent him gasping for his seat.

"Go, go!" called the bleeding driver. With that the two other ponies grasped for their harnesses and pulled at the carriage with all their resolve. With a start it went out past the fountain to the road beyond. As it went, the cries of the foal hovered over it, disappearing in a horrid soundtrack that lingered in Carrot's mind.

Carrot stood there beside the fountain looking to where some small breezes kicked leaves to where the form of Quarry lay. The big stallion lifting his head and fought to his hooves.

"Dammit, Quarry!" came the familiar voice again, revealing itself to be Ledger. As the other earth pony trotted up, Quarry stood there, fighting to breath as his friend looked him up and down.

"I don't even want to know what that was about. Damn it!" spoke Ledger in a tone like he had at the mill long ago. "The way that filly was crying I thought you were killing them…"

Carrot saw a look of shock go across Quarry's face. Slowly, the immense stallion looked to Ledger, a look of realization growing on the face of a stallion that suddenly looked a lot older than Carrot remembered him seeming.

"There… there was a filly?" he whispered.

"Aye," answered Ledger, "and his wife too! What in the Well is wrong with you, Quarry? You said that…oh, the Well, look at you… you're still breathing hard."

Carrot peeked from behind the fountain. To his immense surprise, he saw that Quarry was taking deep breaths. Even the pounding of the stallion's heart seemed almost palpable, as though his huge frame was thudding in tune. His muscles rippled beneath the tan coat, the shocks of grey among the black mane seeming more obvious as the stallion lifted his head in tune to each breath.

The autumn air sat around the fountain square as ponies began drifting through once more, some looking on as Quarry lifted his head and raised his hoof. Carrot could scarcely believe it when Ledger leaned in and let the other stallion brace against him.

"You shall soon have a heart attack, Quarry, if you don't find a way out of this rage," said Ledger in a voice Carrot could barely hear, "you'll be dead of a stroke or such, Quarry, if you can't find a way out."

Together they turned to leave the park, Quarry leaning against Ivory's father like a prize fighter being led from the ring.

"I don't… don't like bein' used, Ledger. I don't like anypony stealin' from me, plottin' against me," said the winded stallion as he walked away."I'm nopony's fool…"

Carrot walked to the other side of the fountain. To his surprise, Ledger's eyes were on him, giving him an impassionate glance. Carrot quickly nodded and began to speak. Ledger gave a quick shake of his head. Carrot closed his mouth.

Ledger nodded slightly and contemplated Carrot for an instant. Ledger then turned to Quarry and spoke as he led the larger stallion off.

"Not everypony is against you, Quarry, not everypony wants something from you…" Ledger said with a sigh. "I hope you realize that, before it's too late."

Carrot heard Quarry give a small chuckle of disbelief. He watched the two walk off, his mind lost in what he had just witnessed.

There was no time to head to the market. Instead he went back to his bakery and grabbed something he thought would make a decent lunch for Cupcake and his mother. As he did, he thought of Quarry, wondered what had made him the type of pony that would do such things… wondered if he would ever find peace.

He also thought very hard about finding any way he could to never end up on the stallion's bad side. He hoped that the treats he had been bringing him and his secretary every other week with the loan payments had been helping.

Carrot flung the food into the saddlebags and then went off once more to his mother's house. As he once more passed through the market square, he slowed as he saw pieces of satin still drifting about, the fragments catching against the fountain, mixing with the fallen leaves. In his mind's eye he saw himself under the rage of the stallion. Mentally, he checked to make sure the check was due next week, not this. With a shudder he trotted on.

Arriving outside his childhood home, he glanced in through the window to see Cupcake standing in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water and running some more over the serving knife from the tray of crackers and cheese.

He opened the breezeway door quietly, the inside one even more so. He began to cross on quiet hooves towards the kitchen, hoping to surprise her. He smiled as he thought of making her shriek and then gather her into an embrace. He could certainly use one after what he had just witnessed.

To his surprise, another phantom crossed on the far side of the room, past the pantry and laundry room, the mare laying her hoof on Cupcake's shoulder. As Cupcake jumped in alarm, the knife clattering in the sink, Carrot felt himself lowering into the little alcove beside the door, the one where all manner of jackets and umbrellas seemed to go unused for years at a time.

For the second time in that late morning, he watched two ponies in conversation.

"Oh, I-I'm sorry!" spoke his mother in her ethereal tone, the one that made all who heard it wonder if she was not just slightly ill. "I-I didn't mean to scare you, Cupcake! I'm sorry!"

"Oh, it's… no, I'm okay, just startled a bit, dont'cha know," answered Cupcake with a small laugh.

The two mares reassured one another, his mother's foreleg still held up to Cupcake. For a moment, she held this pose and then slowly lowered it. Her head went down with it, and with a small sound, he saw Cupcake's head tilt as though in worry.

"Cupcake," came his mother's small voice, "I-I have to ask. What-what are you hiding from my son?"

Carrot had to stifle a breath and was glad that Cupcake's gasp hid his as well.

"Is-is it that obvious?" answered Cupcake. "He-he knows! Knows that there's… reasons, reasons why I… I told him that, that there was something. Please, Cheesecake I'm doing it for both of us…"

To his surprise, his mother lifted her head and laid it across Cupcake's withers. With small motions Cupcake answered. She lifted her own head and placed it across his mother until a sigh fell from the older mare.

"It's okay," spoke his mother, her tone stronger than before, "I know. I know… I'm a mare too; we have our reasons for doing these things. We do these things to protect those we love from hurts and harm."

The mares lifted their heads and looked at one another.

"You-you don't have to tell me," the thin white mare continued, her golden-brown mane falling across her face, "but, Cupcake, don't-don't let it keep you from love… don't let it keep you from spending time in love, because it can disappear..."

Carrot pressed himself firmer to the alcove, hid himself as he felt his mother's words. Somehow, he sensed that he was about to learn things that she had never taken the time to tell him. Perhaps things she had not known how to tell him.

"I… I offered dancing and singing lessons. I had a wonderful partner I haven't seen in years when I was your age. My mark isn't for cooking, it about helping ponies find that special spark within themselves. Cheese can become a cake after all, you see. My friend and I, we would go dance at clubs and then offer lessons to the colts we'd batted our eyes at."

His mother tilted her head back and forth.

"I had this one colt, this one stallion, who kept coming back to me… kept coming back long, long after he had learned all I could teach him. We'd dance, dance long into the night. Dance until morning. We'd collapse upon one another and watch Celestia's sunrise. It was only then I realized why he was coming back… I was the thing that was special to him, he was in love."

Cheesecake's face brightened.

"I fell in love with his love, fell in love with him for loving me. I could see us together so clearly, wanted him with me forever, and he did too. We opened ourselves to one another, loved one another in mind, heart, spirit… physically. As we saw visions of our lives together, we opened up our magic and it greeted that love. Here in this house, in the room at the top of the stairs, on that very bed my Carrot was conceived."

Carrot leaned against the alcove door, swallowed hard as he tried to let the facts of what was about to be stated flow past him. He looked up to see Cupcake placing her hoof to her mouth.

"He was called back to active duty as soon as I started to show, and every day it seemed I received a letter. He would ask how I was doing, outlined plans for us, counted down the number of days until he completed his tour."

Carrot choked.

"And then one day they stopped. Just… stopped. Part-part of me wondered if he had found another pony… a different mare, but I didn't believe it. I'd think of how we'd sat, how he'd stroked me and had run his hoof across my stomach, across his foal. I wouldn't believe it."

Cheesecake lifted her head to face Cupcake, tears just visible at the edges of her eyes.

"Then after two weeks I got a letter from someone in his regiment. There, there had been an accident… he'd been dead for two weeks! He was burned up in a magical fire, a training exercise gone wrong… lost two weeks before and I didn't even know about it! Since, since we weren't married the army didn't know to tell me… and they, the members of his regiment only thought to do it when emptying his things, found my letters… Four days later I was in labor."

Carrot bit hard and tried his best not to make any sounds as the horrible noise of his mother's sniffles filled the room.

"I… I never lost the feel of Carrot's father's love, and-and Cupcake, as Carrot grew I tried to replace it. When, when I thought Carrot was old enough I started, dating… but, not dating. Tried, tried to capture the feel of love but not the pain it could bring. I-I brought stallions to this house, to the very bed…" she said, choking at the end.

Carrot bit down hard once more, struggled against the memories of "uncles" who lasted in her life for two, maybe three weeks. Some pretended to be his friend, asked about his toys and hobbies. Some could not have cared less about him. None of them were worth remembering.

One terrifying night, one had stood outside his bedroom door for an hour as he tried his hardest to pretend to be asleep, the eyes of the stranger lying upon him.

One night when he was thirteen or fourteen he had awoke to the awful, devastating sounds of one calling her… things, yelling at her to do… things.

He would have taken the staring one in a heartbeat.

"When I reached forty-five my hips started to show through my coat. Lines began to show under my eyes. The stallions stopped looking. I realized that I'd, that I'd been trying to replace love with sex. It didn't work Cupcake, it didn't work and I was just left here in this house, alone," his mother continued, voicing a truth that the teenaged Carrot had wished he would have had the strength to tell her. "But I realized that there had always been love in this house, the love of Carrot's father was still here… it was in Carrot."

He lifted his head, dared lift it a little closer to the door. There he watched as his mother raised her hoof once more, as though in pain. He watched gratefully as Cupcake gathered his mother's hoof to hers as the two mares stood there in the sun that came in through the kitchen window.

"He earned his mark down here, in this kitchen, baking for us. Making our meals. The day it came I was…up there, came down at noon to find it dry. I didn't know that the carrot cake I'd thrown away had given… given him his mark until he came home! The damn teacher and his schoolmates knew about it before I did! I'm his mother! I was right up there, next to some…"

His mother gave a single pained bawl and leaned forward, Cupcake gathering her up.

"He never stopped loving me, never gave up on me. Always stopped at the top of the stairs before going off, listening for my breath. When, when I realized that he was the love in my life, that I should be living for him, finding my love through watching him grow I turned to him…"

Cheesecake took another series of strained breaths.

"… turned to him and looked up to see that he'd already grown up, was ready to start his own life. I'd, I'd missed my chance to be a proper mother, Cupcake! I'd lost love twice! First the love of his father, then my chance to honor our love through his son!"

Carrot blinked through a few tears, saw his mother lifting herself from Cupcake's withers. His thin, worn, haggard… beautiful, radiant mother looked down into Cupcake's understanding, rosy eyes.

"I-I won't ask you to tell me what it is that you're keeping from him, or me. But, Cupcake, I can see it's hurting you. My Carrot, my son is full of love Cupcake, he's alive with love. He loves you…"

"He is, he is. Yes, I know he is. He's so wonderful," he heard Cupcake answer, her own voice tinged with tears.

"Don't miss out on it, don't waste a second of it!" said his mother, laying her head to Cupcake's. "It can disappear, Cupcake… whatever it is that's keeping you from opening yourself up all the way to him, to his love, don't let it rule you! Clear it away as soon as you can, my dear, let love deal with your fears…"

Carrot stood there as perhaps the most profound thing he had ever heard his mother say drifted across the tiles of the little kitchen where he had made so many breakfasts.

As the two mares embraced each other once more, he quietly slipped back outside. The autumn sun fell over him, golden and full. Leaves flipped down the street, and overhead, pegasi flipped from cloud to cloud, playing in the light.

They were using these last few warm, painted days to enjoy life… enjoy it before the snows were scheduled to fall.

With a single sniffle, he turned back within the house. As he did, he made sure to make the doors ring out loudly behind him.

"I'm back!" he called out, pretending that he did not notice them until the last second. "Oh!" he spoke in a falsified tone of ignorance. "You're both here in the kitchen! I brought some lunch!"

He looked upon them as his mother tried to hide one last tear and Cupcake turned to him.

He could not help but smile as the two mares he loved most in the world looked up to him with broad smiles of their own.

"It was so lovely to meet you," intoned Cupcake, leaning in for one more hug from Cheesecake, the older mare patting her on the shoulder as she did.

"Please, don't be a stranger," added Cheesecake, releasing the younger mare and looking to them both. Her blue eyes flashed with happiness at seeing them together.

Her smile only grew when her gangly son leaned down and planted a kiss upon her cheek. "Love you mom," he said. "Be sure to eat something for dinner, okay?"

With that they were off. At first Carrot thought that they were heading back to the bakery, and from there Cupcake would leave him once more, head off alone to the place that he had promised not to follow.

To his surprise, they zipped right past the bakery as though it were no more than a street side garbage pail or a mailbox.

"Ummm," he began as he turned to watch his ginger-trimmed residence and place of occupation recede.

Soon, he felt her leaning against him, asking for his strength. He went silent and followed her little turns. He caught up her offered hoof as they turned down some unfamiliar streets.

It was not that he had never been to this part of Ponyville; it was just that he had never really had any real reason to linger on roads with big houses and stately homes.

At once a thought went through him. At once worries that she had been living in some sort of flophouse or had been living in some sort of institution with curfews and rules against colts visiting, these all disappeared.

Instead, they stopped at a corner under a lamppost. As the afternoon drew on around them, Cupcake pointed to a large house that stood back from the road. Spread out before it, a long pathway led past a tall fence leading to a wide porch. The house itself was very strong and sturdy looking with exposed pillars and a low look, one that seemed to blend into the landscape rather than stand out from it.

To Carrot's surprise, the same three foals who had visited him on Nightmare Night played in piles of leaves upon the lawn as their schoolbags rested nearby.

"That, that's my house… that's where, where I live," she said, haltingly. "This is where, where I come when we say goodnight.

Carrot stuttered for a moment and then looked up to the house. It was beautiful, it was large… it was hers. It was hers?

"It, it's beautiful," he said as he took a step forward.

"No!" she cried, grabbing for him. Her hoof caught around his stifle and he tripped a little. He turned and looked at her with confusion painted across his face.

She was taking steps backwards, her hooffalls sounding out across the cobblestones. As she turned, she looked to him once more. Her rose-colored eyes flashed with thought, and he sensed things were moving behind them.

He followed silently, watched her head flashing around and peer deep within the crowds of ponies that went by.

They trotted up and within the gazebo, the same one where their first date had begun. No band sat within the space now, and only the cool breeze that battled the sun of a warm autumn day met them there.

Carrot watched he trot back and forth with a worried look. A thousand questions went through his mind as he watched her, and the worry he felt for Cupcake only grew.

"Cupcake," he asked, "why, who… why didn't you want me to know about your house? I, I was worried that you were living in a shack, or…"

At once she turned to him and laid her head against his chest once more. He recognized this pose, what she was asking of him. Slowly he sat, allowed her to move deeper into him and lay her head there more fully.

As the autumn light began to fail, she spoke. He listened as she tried to explain what was happening without actually explaining it, as she tried to detail the new twists and turns that "The Game of This" was taking.

"Carrot," she said, not raising herself from his chest, "your mother, she told me something, something that made quite a bit of sense."

He thought of the conversation that had transpired in the kitchen.

"I-I really, really want to tell you everything… show you everything, but-but I can't!" she continued, a small note of panic in her voice. "I'm sorry, I just can't! I-I don't want you to end up like the other colts… I, don't…"

Carrot ran his hoof through her mane, parted the rosy tones as she continued to lie against his chest. She leaned to him even more as he did, as though allowing some of her worry to pass to him with each gentle stroke.

He realized why she had done it, why she had shown him the house, the large house where her nieces and nephews rolled about laughing on the lawn. He had wanted her to open herself, and she had… she had as much as she thought she could.

He ran his hoof up and down her back, caressing the mare as he felt her breath. She was trying so hard, trying to reach for his love while still hiding something, still trying desperately to play the game she had set up.

At once his vision of her lying close to him, secure in his embrace as the soft light drifted over her. That vision filled him, and he longed for it. But, right now, this was all he could offer.

So, he ran his hoof across her and let her breathe.

"I know-know you're tryin' so hard to be patient," she said as she wiped her face against his chest, "tryin', waiting on me to… Please don't stop trying, Carrot. Oh, Carrot, please don't stop trying."

Of course, his body told her as Carrot drew her in closer, of course.

As the cool breeze won the contest, and great shafts of Celestia's sun faded around them, he lifted himself. He looked down to her as she looked up to him.

"Cupcake, how about some dinner?" he asked. "And, and then can I walk you… can I walk you part of the way home, maybe just to the lamppost?"

"Yes," she answered, lifting her nose and closing her eyes. "Oh, yes, I think that would do nicely."

Slowly, they rubbed their noses. He took up her hoof, and they went into the village to their dinner as the wind tossed the dry leaves across the path around the gazebo.

The Game has Changed

Chapter 7: The Game has Changed

The door of Hospitable Loan and Trust came open. As the bell rang out with a festive jingle, a few flakes of holiday snow followed an amber-coated colt as he walked within.

The secretary looked up to see the familiar colors of Carrot Cake emerging from beneath a festive dusting. The freckled face smiled up to her as he stomped his hooves and tried to shake off most of the snow that clung to him.

"Hello!" he called out, doing his best to keep the snow upon the rug that lay in front of the door. "Happy Hearth's Warming Eve!"

"Happy Hearth's Warming Eve, Carrot!" she answered, replying to his smile with one of her own. He looked around the office and was surprised to see a little tree covered with magical lights. Upon contemplating it, he realized that there had been a wreath upon the door as well.

All of this struck him as a touch odd. He thought of Quarry's austere office. The stallion did not seem like one to whom the holiday would mean much.

Still, the tree sat there blinking away happily.

Carrot lifted the check from the saddlebags and chatted with the secretary, Paperclip, for a little while.

As he told her about how wonderful things were going at the bakery, his mind kept going back there, knowing that Cupcake was there right now and waiting for him. Right now she was seeing to the welcome, if tiring, wash of customers that had been drawn to the bakery in anticipation of the holiday. Together today they were going to try something new, try to fill an unusual order.

As he chatted with Paperclip, he suddenly felt the same pall fall over him that marked each of his appearances in the loan office. He felt the same tremble go through him, the same weight of eyes that had not diminished since he had been keeping this schedule, bringing the checks around.

He lifted his eyes to see those of Quarry meet his. The stallion had not emerged from the closed door of the office, but instead, from what Carrot assumed was a records room on the opposite side of the hallway.

"I told ya' that ya' didn't need to bring that one around until the day after the holiday, Cake," drifted the stallion's words.

Carrot took a discreet breath and tried to focus forward. He once more found himself unable to look the bulking stallion in the eyes for very long.

"I-I just, just don't want… don't want to get out of the, out of the habit of bringing it along… don't want to forget to bring it every t-two weeks," stammered Carrot as he looked to where the check had been laid on the secretary's desk.

He tried to lift his eyes once more. Quarry's grey eyes still sat deep in his cold features.

"Don't know why you chose every two weeks instead of monthly, either. Costs you more in the end," spoke Quarry in his usual rumble of attached judgment, his tone implying dubious belief in Carrot's business acumen.

Carrot felt himself wanting to answer, to tell the stallion that the sooner he was done paying, the sooner he felt that Cupcake could be with him as a true partner. He would no longer need to be hanging on the fruits of her work for payments, that then they could spend more time simply being together.

He felt himself wanting to tell the stallion that the sooner he was done paying back the loan, he would never have to sit here under Quarry's cold gaze again, no longer have to live with the idea of what would happen if something went wrong. The image of Quarry ripping apart the carriage could finally leave him.

He glanced at Paperclip, saw the secretary still smiling at him. He wondered how she stood to be here.

He wanted to say these things. As Quarry's deep breath filled the reception room, all Carrot could muster himself to say was, "I-I'm kinda mo… motivated to be done with it…"

Quarry gave a noncommittal grunt and flicked his tail.

All was quiet in the office for a long moment, the blinking of the tree lights shining that much brighter at the approach of the early winter nights.

Suddenly Carrot remembered what he had brought with him, had always brought with him each time he had brought his loan payment.

Attempting to slide out of his saddlebags, he got caught in them once again, an accident that only seemed to happen to him here in this place.

He released the strap and helped the bag to the floor. From within he produced two brightly wrapped parcels. As he placed them on the desk they unfolded and revealed themselves as two fruitcakes.

"I-I made them up for you both, H-happy Hearth's Warming," he said, looking to both the other ponies.

"You know how much I look forward to you coming in," spoke Paperclip, Carrot marveling once more at how free and easily she spoke with the large form of Quarry hovering nearby, "seems that the only things other ponies bring us are bad news…"

"… and excuses," completed Quarry, raising his head to look into the paper baskets, each wrapped as they were with the shimmering paper. At once the heat of the room lifted the aroma of the two warm fruitcakes into the air, filling the place with a holiday scent.

"Damn if that don't smell good though," said Quarry as he raised his head. He stared at the amber-colored colt as Carrot began to blanch.

"Thanks kindly, Cake," he said.

Carrot felt himself fall under the uncertain and foreign sense of Quarry's gratitude, and he risked a small smile. At that the stallion raised his head and looked down upon him once more. With that, the sensation was gone.

"You're… you are welcome. Happy Hearth's Warming, both of you," he said as he backed towards the door. With the jangle of the bell ringing out once more, Carrot nodded and departed into the cold street.

Paperclip rose up and began folding the paper baskets back together, preserving the warmth of the two gifts. As she did, she heard Quarry give a sigh, shake his head, and turn towards his office.

"You don't need to be so hard on him, on them," she said as she placed Quarry's fruitcake among the stallion's things so that he would not leave it here in the office over the holiday.

"There's two kinda ponies in the world of money," she heard him call from his stark office, "those who owe it, those who are owed. The two are as different as the good sun and the cold moon, and shouldn't mix."

Paperclip sighed, looked down at the two brightly wrapped boxes.

"He's not a bad colt, though…" she said.

"Never said he was… just said he owes me money," stated Quarry as he once more moved from his office to the supply room, "and I learned a long time ago that anyone who owes you money is always looking for ways to be done owin' you money, always wants somethin' from ya' to get out of it. They either need tah' fear ya', or they'll try tah' get up on ya'."

She sighed aloud.

"Don't go thinkin' any different 'bout Cake then you would any of the greasy goat lickers who come in her demandin' this or that and they'll get their lawyers. He might bring us somethin' from that daftly named bakery of his, but in the end he's no different from those who try to scare me with big words… think old Quarry is some dolt who…"

She felt him shudder through the wall of the supply room, the floorboards literally quaking as he attempted to regain himself from his growing anger.

"I meant it when I said 'Thanks,' though…" he spoke in a neutral tone, his voice carrying from the supply room.

She lowered her head and turned towards the window of the office. His cynicism washed over the room as it always had, moved through it in a form as palpable and forceful as Quarry himself. It was powerful. The slowly twinkling tree fought to buoy her spirit.

Paperclip lifted her head and began to ask him about some small affairs of the office. She instead looked up to see him standing in the doorframe of the supply room. Something hung from his mouth.

Quarry walked fully forward and laid the gift on her desk.

"Happy Hearth's Warming Eve, Paperclip," the big stallion said, nodding to her.

"Thank you," she whispered, "I-I put yours among your things, thought it'd be a surprise…"

Quarry looked into his saddlebags. There he saw a thin package nestled against the fruitcake the Cake colt had brought.

"Thank ya', Paperclip," he said, nodding once more, "take the rest of the afternoon off, see ya' in three days…"

Far out across the market square of Ponyville, Carrot turned his attention to a now familiar structure. His bakery sat there in the middle of the open block of paving stones, the chimney happily puffing away.

As he cantered by, he looked up to the gingerbread trim, noted how festive it looked… how it had inspired what would happen within today.

He also noted the name on the sign. He still had not changed it, and the more he looked at "Carrot Cake's Bakery Co., L.L.C., Inc.," the less he liked it. Still, that was not something he had to ponder right now. Right now a far more welcome task awaited him.

He strode within and began to shake the snow from himself. As he did, a delicious scent streamed out over him and filled his nostrils.

"Cupcake?" he called, "Are you…"

Before he had even completed his question, she was already coming to him, her hooves falling across the wooden floors, coming to greet him at the door. Greeting him at the door… the realization made him very happy.

"Any customers?" he asked as he shook off his saddlebags.

"Oh, a few," she said, looking up to him, her rosy eyes catching his.

He leaned down and closed his eyes. Slowly, she lifted her nose and let a wide figure eight run back and forth between them as they nuzzled each other, and the sense of their touch warmed them.

After a long minute, he raised his head. She smiled and stated, "I…I think we have everything. Are you ready to try this?"

He smiled down to her. She quickly brushed some snow from his orange mane, and then the two trotted deeper within the bakery.

Together they entered the kitchen. The gingerbread had cooled, and now it was time to try to make the first gingerbread house the bakery had ever produced.

It was a long struggle, one with many false starts. At times it became a trial, an epic challenge. At other times it descended into hilarity as parts collapsed or various components went flying across the room.

Cupcake stood back at one point, saw how hard he was concentrating. He had never done this before and yet she was astounded at his concentration, his dedication. She noted the persistence in his hooves, and he made concentrated, perfect movements to create the details.

At one point he wiped the back of his hoof across his brow, leaving a white streak across his forehead. With a giggle she lifted the frosting tube, thought of leaving a great white dollop of…

… but something caught her, stopped her. "No, not this time," it seemed to say with a small divine laugh, "but someday."

Hours passed. As the appointed hour arrived, they stood together in the main showcase room of the bakery and awaited the pony who had commissioned the gingerbread house.

It looked ill, lopsided. It reminded them both of the bakery itself when they had first set eyes on it.

Cupcake saw the worry that floated in Carrot. He had wanted to do this for so long, to move beyond just making bulk breads and rolls and move into the world of creative baking. If the customer liked it then anything was possible.

Carrot felt an extraordinary sensation go through him. Cupcake's forelegs were across his withers and he felt her lightness upon him as she slowly nibbled his ear. Just drawing his ear across her lips with touches of her teeth, just enough to draw him out of his worry.

After a moment she sat before him, and with that, he placed his legs around her.

As the bell rang, the two jumped. An older pony stood there smiling at them.

"Oh, ummm… hello, Mrs. Smith," called out Cupcake as she drew herself up, blushing as Carrot did the same.

"Hello! Happy Hearth's Warmin'!" she said as she trotted forward to look over the gingerbread house that stood on display upon the table.

"This one mine?" she asked with a touch of incredulous concern. "This here the gingerbread house I ordered?"

"Ummm, oh, yes," answered Cupcake, "it is… is it, okay? Does it look good?"

"How much extry is it?" said Granny Smith, eyeing the two.

"I'm-I'm sorry? Extra?" asked a blinking Carrot.

"For bein' so much bigger, and puttin' all these fancy bits all over it! How much extry ya' gonna charge me?" she said, her voice almost angry.

Cupcake and Carrot looked at one another and then back to her.

"No, ma'am, nothing… that's, that's pretty much just a standard house, just like you ordered," he said.

"This here is just yer' average gingerbread house?" she answered as her face brightening. "Why, colt, that's just fine! That's mighty fine! Mah' grandson and granddaughter will love it! Gobble it up!"

Carrot and Cupcake absolutely beamed with pride as they wrapped the gingerbread house in a protective box. Soon a pile of bits sat gleaming in the cash register as they saw Granny Smith to the door.

"Happy Hearth's Warmin' to both of you," she struggled to say as the large box sat perched upon her carefully. "Say, is this yer' first Hearth's Warmin' together as a married couple?"

Cupcake looked up, realized that she had once more lowered herself to his chest, that his head was over hers and that she was wrapped within his forelegs.

The two blushed brightly and made little sounds of embarrassment.

"Oh," answered Cupcake, "we… aren't married."

"You'll forgive me, ah' hope," said Granny Smith with a wink as Carrot opened the door for her, "but it were an honest mistake, what with how well you two seem tah' fit together!"

As the shop closed and the fires came out of the ovens, they soon found themselves close to one another again. As they sat there with their heads across each other's withers, they swayed slightly, as though in a dance.

"Wha-what are you doing tomorrow?" she asked without lifting her head from his withers. "What are you doing for the holiday?"

"Oh," he answered, "not much, just mom and I. Some small gifts… dinner. There's not much I want."

He paused, felt her move a little closer to him, warp her hooves closer to his. This was fine, this could last him the entire day.

"What about you?" he asked. To his alarm she said nothing. After a moment she lifted her head and started to back away. She reached behind the counter and began to fish around. Soon he realized what she was doing.

As she turned back to him, she saw him jump for the rustic beams above, saw him snatch something. She had to admit: she wouldn't have thought to look there.

The presents stood before the two of them. With a wide smile she passed hers to him first. He opened it, and out came a bowtie.

"Oh, wow, I… I've never worn one before…" he said as he lifted it.

She slowly wrapped it around him. He felt the brush of her hooves against his neck as she tied the cravat, caught the look in her eyes as she looked upon him happily.

"… and now I don't know if I'll ever take it off," he concluded.

She giggled at his statement as he passed her his gift. She took her time opening it, he quickly realizing that she was one of those mares who valued the paper, would probably save it and the ribbon.

Cupcake's eyes went wide as the small jewelry box stood before her.

He flipped it open. The earrings stood there, catching the light.

"They, they were the only things that I could find that… the only things that matched the color of your eyes," he said sheepishly.

She looked down to the earrings. He obviously had not noticed that her ears were not pierced. As she smiled back to him, Cupcake knew that it did not matter. Since he had given her these, they soon would be.

She leaned forward, laid her cheek to his, slid down the length of his neck to his shoulders. Once more the two sat there and swayed back and forth in the fading heat and smell of the gingerbread.

She lifted her head and moved quickly, planting a small, delicate kiss on his lips. He looked back at her quizzically.

"That was for your mother, from me," she said as understanding grew upon his face. "Please be sure she gets it, righty?"

"Sure," he said as he cast his eyes down into hers. "Sure thing."

With that she leaned in again, leaned in much deeper, leaned against him fully. With that he answered a kiss that was meant for him alone, one that lasted a great satisfying while as snow drifted around once more and ponies went up the street outside singing holiday songs.

The following morning, three happy fillies had bounced around inside their room, asking their parents to wake and go with them downstairs.

As they did, the presents sat there, shimmering beneath the tree, and for the first time in that household, peals of laughter and joy met a Hearth's Warming Day.

On a mountainside far away, in Canterlot, that fabled city where magic both deep and terrible flows as freely as the waters that race through its channels, Ivory's parents had joined her in the restaurant of their hotel. Before them, a magnificent buffet had been spread out, one that would consume the morning with the bounty it offered.

As the young intern sat with them, the family exchanged their presents. Ledger stared happily at his daughter as she regaled her mother with tales of palace intrigue and political intricacies.

In a small white house, Cheesecake and Carrot Cake woke late, greeted one another, and then went to a brunch he had prepared in the small kitchen. As they had sat in the living room they exchanged their few presents and talked long into the afternoon.

In a large home on the other side of Ponyville, Cupcake had lain among her nieces and nephew as they implored her to help them open their new toys, asked her to play with them.

As much as she rejoiced in the presence of these children, how much her heart swelled as they gave her their small school-made gifts and they wrapped her in hugs, there was one she longed to be with, to share mornings like this…

… and back in that white house he wished for her to be near.

Quarry, having forgotten something of importance, walked the quiet morning streets in a huff, lamenting loudly that there seemed to be no stores open.

The old stallion stopped to breathe, the cold air falling as vapor from his mouth as he pondered the day, and music drifted from nearby houses.

None of them could feel it, these partners and these players in "The Game of This," but as they celebrated that morning, the strings of causality that linked each to one another wrapped around them that much more.

As trim as the ribbon around a package, all of these participants had been drawn closer to one another, linked with the tendrils of fate that flowed from Carrot and Cupcake as they sat in the light of their trees and thought only of one another.

The scene moved forward once more, and as time passed, the holiday colors of the early winter faded into that of the deepest part, the least happy part.

As this time sped on, the bakery kept producing its bounty, offering the warmth of breads and sweets to those who sought to escape the cold and misery of winter.

Carrot could only smile as the bakery began to serve those coming off the street, those who were beginning to seek out the warmth, those caught in the allure of the smell of fresh baked bread on a cold morning.

As winter faded, Carrot found himself assailed by one of his most ancient of enemies, one he knew he could not face alone.

In short, it was tax time, and he was simply horrible at math. Fortunately for him and his bakery Cupcake was there.

They decided that they would work together, Carrot doing as best he could to help her, and together they would finish the taxes in one night. He couldn't help but look at her as she scratched away, looking every inch a true partner in this enterprise as he brought her warm drinks and treats to snack upon.

He read the numbers back to her, cautiously skipping over any details of the loan he had taken out. He did not want her to feel that she had placed any burden on him, did not want her to know that he had indebted himself to a pony like Quarry. He could still picture the fearful look on her face on that day long ago in the mill.

He slipped the loan payments and interests into the calculations, hid it from her in the hope that she would not worry about owing him anything.

He could not know it, but he had just committed a flagrant foul in "The Game of This."

As the evening drew on, they found themselves in the enviable position of being able to draw some conclusions. As ten o'clock rolled around, they began placing these conclusions on the forms… and with jaws dropping open, they realized that they had just finished the taxes.

Not only that but the best available evidence seemed to suggest that Carrot and his bakery were due a refund, and not a small one at that.

Celestia and simple deductions be praised!

They sat as the taxes went into the envelope, as they finished their treats and drinks, chatting as the night wore away.

As Cupcake began to yawn, the hallway clock began to chime eleven, startling her in the slightest. Outside, the Mare in the Moon cast her glance over the frozen streets of Ponyville. A sheen of ice covered everything, the pegasi having let it get too warm by a fraction of a degree during the day.

"I-I don't like you going out in that, you might fall," he said gathering up jackets, "let-let me walk you home…to the lamppost…"

"Then you could fall on the way back and I'd feel horrible," she said as she tried to hide her small yawn again. "Besides, I told them I'd be staying out tonight."

Cupcake startled and looked to Carrot. "But, but I forgot to ask you! I didn't think to ask you! Carrot… may, may I stay here tonight? May I sleep on the couch or one of the chairs in the…"

"Nah, you can sleep in my bed," he said as he immediately placed the coats back on the hook. "Just let me put some fresh sheets on…"

"You-you don't have to…" she began. He though was already past her and trotting up the stairs into the living space above the bakery.

He tossed various and sundry items into his closet that he did not particularly care to have her see lying around his room, generally trying to straighten it as he went about in a hurried state.

He opened up the linen closet and was almost obscenely happy that there were, in point of fact, clean sheets for her to lie upon.

As he quickly stripped the bed of sheets and blankets, a welcome sound came up the stairs, wonderfully familiar hooffalls sounding out down the little hallway. He looked up to see her standing at the door of his bedroom, smiling a small smile.

"Aren't you the gentlecolt," she said. "And where will you sleep?"

"Oh," he said, "somewhere…"

He fumbled with the sheet, watched as an unexpected and unmatched pillowcase fell from it.

"Here," she said as she lifted her hoof, "let me help."

Together they circled the bed, laying the blankets and sheets. For the first time that evening he was wordless, Carrot unable to think of anything appropriate to say as a beautiful mare walked around his bedroom.

All too soon they had finished. As she began to remove the earrings, he found himself blushing and turning towards the door. "If you need anything, the blankets are here in the linen closet, and the attached bathroom is…"

… a mess.

"Out of order!" he called in small alarm. "So, ummm… use the one down the hallway, okay?"

"Okay," she answered as she slowly trotted over to him and lifted her nose. His tiredness faded as the soft feel of her touch went through him once more, as the feeling of their presence drifted through one another.

So familiar, welcome, was the touch that as she shifted her head, he knew what she was asking for. As they settled into their goodnight kiss, he found himself opening his eyes to look upon her face as they parted.

Silence hung there, neither speaking, blushes growing across their faces as they stood in the bedroom. Within both the understanding hung that there was more that they wanted to say, that the night had simply come too early.

"Good… goodnight, Carrot," she whispered, putting the conversation to rest for the night.

"Goodnight. Goodnight, Cupcake," he said as he backed out of the room. Soon he was going down the hallway as night seemed to settle around the bakery in deeper tones.

Cupcake collapsed upon the bed and rubbed her eyes. As the thoughts of numbers and deductions fell from her, she felt herself wanting to sleep, grateful for the expanse of the bed beneath her. It was warm enough in the room, and the bed was big and deep.

But sleep would not come. As she wondered why, a comprehension opened up in Cupcake. Here once again he had opened himself up, let her into the very innermost sanctum of his own personal self. Once more he had been open with her and as the moonlight flitted around the room, she saw all the little items, everything about him laid bare to her.

Even as she lay on his bed, she realized, she was still keeping her secrets from him. Even if they were for his protection, for their dreams… they were still secrets.

Her head turned and fell across the breadth of the bed. Despite the new sheets that lay crisply beneath her, his scent still filled the room. It filled the bed, and as she thought of him, she knew that she was being utterly unfair. She knew that most colts would not have put up with it, would have demanded…

But, Carrot was no regular colt… no, he was a stallion, a real one. He was living for her, living for every little shred she was giving him. He was hanging on hope. Ten months. For ten months she had showed him no more of her life than the front of her house, another pony's children, and her favorite restaurants. In that time she had met his mother and he had drawn the pain out of her. He had shared with her his hopes and dreams; he had waited for her and never been anything other than kind.

For fifteen long minutes that seemed like an hour, Cupcake thought about this, thought about how in her life Carrot alone had not wanted anything from her but to be with her, to be near her. He alone had simply wanted to marvel at her, look deep into her eyes, feel the warmth of her touch.

In her life she had wanted that from him alone too… he was the only one who had offered it without a price.

Ten months. For ten months he had believed in her and trusted her. His mother knew, his mother was right… she did risk losing his love every moment she did not open up to him, but the idea of having him end up like the other stallions…

Cupcake sat up in the bed with a little cry of worry rising from her. Right now she realized there was one thing she could do to show him that his trust, his love, was not misplaced. She could in this moment show him that she desperately wanted him in her life, that even an act as simple as those taxes completed downstairs were slowly bringing them together.

He deserved this, this proof. No stallion had ever been so kind to her, had loved her for herself. There was no other stallion in Equestria so patient or so giving. In that instant she knew how to let him know that he was winning "The Game of This."

She leapt from the bed and trotted down the hallway on silent hooves.

Carrot shifted uncomfortably, trying to keep the one blanket below him to keep the cold surface of the couch from his body, keeping the other over him as the spare room grew colder.

He had ripped the seam of the couch trying to get the bed to unfold. It had jammed halfway and now he lay awkwardly upon it at an angle, the metal bits glistening on his left side, threatening any number of wounds if he turned in the night. This was compounded by the fact that his face was now directly in the moonlight no matter what position he took.

The thought of these torments was driven from as he sighed and found a set of rosy eyes staring down into his.

"Cupcake?" he whispered into the night. "What's wrong? Do, do you need…"

She pressed her lips to his so forcibly that the bed came unstuck and fell back within the sofa.

He was able to take one small breath as it did, Carrot startling both at his descent and her sudden act. As he lay there, she still stared down into him. To his amazement her foreleg crossed over him and sat next to his head. With that Cupcake slowly lowered her head again, catching against his lips in a long, lingering kiss.

She stood, took a few steps back and raised her hoof to him.

"Cupcake…" he breathed.

"Please," she said, her voice a soft tremble as she waved her hoof again.

With that he slowly stood, leaving the blankets on the couch as he gathered her hoof into his. With that she led him back down the hallway.

As they entered the bedroom she lifted his hoof and placed it against her face. He felt the warmth that was flowing from her. He swallowed hard and tried to remain calm as the mare stood with him in the night, staring at his bed. As the moonlight fell through the room, he took a soft breath, thought of the most perfect thing he could say, and leaned down to her ear.

"Wherever you want to go, I'll go there with you…"

If he could have gotten away with it, he would have slapped himself in the forehead. He had read that in a trashy pulp novel once, most likely while waiting in a doctor's office. Even though he meant every word of it, he immediately imagined that it came across as a very special sort of awful.

To his utter amazement they went towards the bed.

"Lay with me," she whispered.

She sat upon the bed and looked to him.

"Just… just lay here with me, please, Carrot," she said as her frame was outlined by the moonlight.

"Yes," he said, his voice cracking the slightest. "Of course… of course, Cupcake."

Carefully, gingerly, he too entered the bed and rested himself behind her. As she settled into the crux of his body, wrapping herself with his frame, she felt his strength and his tenderness.

In time she knew that she would call on these, but at that moment all she asked for was his hooves. He reached around her, placing his forelegs along hers. With that she placed her hooves upon his and gave an easy sigh.

As he felt her breathing, Carrot was suddenly very happy that he had bought the king sized bed. As the sound of her breath caught in his ears, Carrot was suddenly a huge fan of income taxes. As the feel of her body drifted across the length of his, Carrot decided that "Lay with me," though not the destination he had fleetingly imagined, was not such a bad place to go.

Not bad at all.

"Carrot," she whispered, "I love you. I trust you. Please don't give up, don't stop trying to be with me… we're, we're going to be together, I can do it."

He kissed her softly on the cheek.

As she lay there with her body safe and secure within his embrace, he ran his free hoof across the tones of her mane, lovingly stroking it as he felt her breathing slow to match his deeper ones, as her heartbeat slowed to match his.

With that she was asleep, the moonlight falling upon the soft expression that dwelt across her.

Downstairs the clock struck midnight and a new day began. As every second ticked by, Carrot could not help but feel that they were sounding out the most perfect day of his life. He felt himself treasuring each second that passed as she lay so close to him, her body to his, sheltered in him.

Already he could feel his right foreleg beginning to go to sleep as her head rested upon it. He knew that upon his waking, it would torture him, make him pay the price for this wonderful feeling of wholeness that was creeping across him, the blissful feeling of her light frame against his but… he… did… not… care…

Slowly he pulled the sheet over them, and the blankets too. As her sleeping breaths raised and lowered the sheets, he gazed over her one last time. Putting his lips to her ear, he breathed "I love you" in the shadow of a whisper and laid his head above hers.

Although he thought sleep to be impossible, her sweet scent soon filled him. With that he went off into dreams that fought very hard to be as wonderful as the waking world.

You Think You Know a Guy

Chapter 8: You Think You Know a Guy

Shafts of light broke through the large timbered house. As they did, the early morning sounds of Ponyville began to sound out along the road at the foot of the path.

Cupcake's father was the first to awake, as he always had been. Even the challenge presented by the presence of his grandchildren in the house had not wrested dominion of these small morning hours from him.

Light was becoming more evident every morning. As he breathed a morning Invoke, he stood in that light and took it as a promise that Celestia was raising the sun earlier each day, that spring was indeed coming.

As he put the kettle on, the light cascaded in through the skylight he had built all those decades ago. He gave a small curse as he saw a few drops of water hanging at the space where the brass met the ceiling. He would have to re-seal it this year.

That, however, was a summer job. As he waited for the water to boil, he stared out across his wide lawn to the road below. It was for the better that winter was ending soon, that he and his family would soon once more do their part in the annual Winter Wrap-Up.

How nice it will be to have children helping out this year. Though the circumstances of his eldest daughter's return were unhappy, he would have been a liar if he said that he did not like having his grandchildren with him.

Cupcake's father ran his hoof through his mane and gave a long sigh. As a few grey hairs came loose, he batted them through the air.

Soon the water began to boil. As he grabbed the mugs out of the finely appointed cabinetry, he made her tea first and then his own, as he always had.

Cupcake's father felt his ears perk up. There was movement overhead, and with a gruff laugh the old stallion knew that his grandson and granddaughters were now rising. He wondered how long it would be before they too learned the importance of sleeping in on Saturdays.

His name came echoing to him, and within seconds he was heading back up the stairs.

He turned and looked first towards the rooms beyond where the sounds of the hooves of his grandchildren echoed around in their bedrooms, the sounds of small games rising into the air.

His name came to him again, this time from the opposite end of the hallway. There a dear face met his, and he went up to her quietly.

"You alright?" he asked as he placed her offered hoof in his, letting her lean into him. "You want tah' head back to bed, or do you want to come downstairs at all? I got yer' tea on…"

"Oh," she answered in a thin voice, walking out of the bathroom with weak steps, "I think I'm alright to go downstairs today… I think I'll be better today than yesterday."

Yesterday had been horrible.

"Do ya' want the chair? Can you walk it?" he said as he brushed back some of her mane as it fell across her face. "Ya' want me tah' carry ya' down?"

"I should not have you carry me down these stairs!" she scolded in a light tone. "Oh, the fear that went through me the first time you did!"

"You know I'd never drop ya'," he spoke in a tone that almost seemed hurt, "you know that…"

"I know," she answered, rubbing her cheek to his tenderly, "I know…"

With that he led her down the stairs and placed her in the big soft chair before the fireplace. Seeing her safe, he went to retrieve her wheelchair from the upstairs room. He used the lift to retrieve it. It was another addition to his house he had built himself, had relied on his own prowess to construct.

As he returned, he suddenly felt himself assaulted, and he looked down to see the smiling faces of foals wrapped around three of his legs.

"Bwaahhhh!" he sounded out as he pretended to be a behemoth of old, stomping down the hallway as they clung to him, giggling as they went. His powerful legs lifted them, he only shushing them as they passed the room where their mother still slept.

Upon reaching the top of the stairs, he saw another familiar figure appear before him. As his family began to come awake, he smiled at another inhabitant of this home he had made, of this house he had built.

"Room fer' one more!" he spoke, offering Cupcake his last free hoof.

"Oh, daddy!" she said as she placed a morning kiss on him. With that she leaned down to speak with her nieces and nephew as they left his legs to give her a morning hug.

"Why don'tcha grab up some toys and sit and play with them in front of the fireplace? I'm sure grandma would love to play with you," she asked as she looked to them.

With small giggles the colt and fillies ran down the hallway. Before long they had gathered up some of their things and were coming down the stairs, their grandmother greeting them as they appeared.

Cupcake's father rode the lift down with the wheelchair. He was not as young as he had once been. In truth he appreciated it being here as much as he had been happy that it gave her back some of her movement.

He strode into the kitchen with the thought of beginning to make some breakfast for his family but, to his happiness, he saw his youngest daughter had already begun the process. As Cupcake went to work, he marveled at how much better she had become at baking over the last few months. He wondered from where the practice flowed. Her new job perhaps?

Always full of surprises, that is what his Little Cupcake was.

Instead he gave her a quick hug and abandoned the kitchen to her talents. He placed the mugs on the tray and walked them out to the living room, passing into the bright airy space that he himself had built.

His wife took the mug and smiled up to him as he sat nearby with his own mug in his hooves.

As the Saturday morning light of a late winter day fell across them, it mixed with the warmth of the fireplace, and he was very happy.

As though sensing his happiness, his grandchildren began to press toys into his hooves: begging him to become the fire engine, the delivery wagon, the post stallion and his cart.

As his wife smiled over him, he let his large frame become their mountain; the castles of Canterlot suddenly were perched regally upon his head.

That is how Cupcake found him as she came to tell them about breakfast being ready. As the grandchildren rushed off to the kitchen, he lifted his wife gently into her wheelchair and rolled her down the fine lacquered floor that he himself had laid and into the bright kitchen.

As they sat around the breakfast table, he led them in a small Invoke as his eldest daughter finally came down the stairs. As the entirety of his family sat around him, Cupcake's father was happy, and it showed upon his face.

The morning slid on, and as noon began to creep around the house, he went outside, began to look the structure over from the outside. Following the lines of his home, he noted where some of the cedar shingles were coming loose, where the paint looked to have chipped where the ice had grown against the side over the winter.

More summer jobs, more small tasks to accomplish to keep his home in the best possible shape.

He had built this home, had made this whole place a refuge from the world. It was a place where those he loved could be safe and surrounded by love. That was what he had built… a castle of heavy timbers and soft earth tones.

As he returned to the porch, he saw Cupcake there, getting ready once more to head off into that world, the Ponyville beyond.

"You off to work?" he asked. She jumped slightly as he walked around the spruce tree.

"Oh, yes… yes!" she answered, laughing at her own surprise. "Yes, I'm off…"

"You have a good day, Little Cupcake," he said while accepting her hug. He stopped and looked down at her. "You know," he said, "I'd love to meet yer' partner in this business of yours. What was it? Catering, cooking? I bet she's a clever girl."

"Yes," she said anxiously, "some-something like that. Food service."

She pointed to a tray of cookies sitting on the steps that she had made the night before.

"I-I thought they'd gone dry, but I think they are still good. Try one, will you, daddy?" she said quickly.

With that she headed down the steps, her hooves making rapid sounds down the sidewalk. She stopped to wave back at her father at the gate. As it came open, he waved back to her.

He did not blame her for not wanting to tell him until the time was right. He could sense that she was her own mare, that she was making her own decisions. She was decisive, clever. He knew she wanted to make her own name, did not want to rely on his business contacts, his reputation.

He was proud of her, knew she would do well. She was his little filly, his Little Cupcake. She had handled so much, had been his strength at times.

As he watched her go, he could not help but feel that there was more to it.

That worried him, that she did not trust him with that much more information. To him, trust was everything. He wondered why she would not… but he quickly stopped himself. He knew. Knew what he had done.

Trust. Trust matters.

As he pondered that thought, a collection of one of the few groups of ponies he trusted came up the street.

"Howdy!" he called out, raising his hoof as a smile went across the faces of the family at the foot of his path. They stopped upon the sidewalk, and as he gathered up the tray, the stallion trotted down to meet with them.

"Good morning to ye'!" answered Clyde as he took Cupcake's father's hoof in his own.

"You're lookin' a little plump there, Clyde," he answered with a wide grin, "Roxy's been makin' you far too much good food over the winter! I suspect that you'll burn it all off come spring on that farm of yours though!"

He bowed to the mare and looked down at the three beautiful fillies that smiled up to him.

"We've been eatin' mostly fine, most blessed, but it is our Pinkamena's mark that has been puttin' the weight on us!" Clyde spoke with a self-conscious laugh.

Cupcake's father smiled down at the girls, especially at the one he remembered as being called Pinkie Pie. The filly was literally bouncing in place as though she were a wellspring of energy that did not know which way to go, as though she were attempting to be in all places at once.

He looked up to this family, a good family, good ponies. Honest folk. As he did, he remembered the tray he had brought with him.

"Would you mind at all if I offered the girls a cookie or two? My Little Cupcake made 'em yesterday," he asked as he bowed to Roxy once again.

"Not at all! Please feel free to!" she answered.

As the fillies reached for the treats, their mother scolded them in a light tone.

"Inkie, Pinkie, Blinkie! What do you say?"

The three fillies looked up to him with crumbs already on their faces and chimed together in tune.

"Thank you, Mister Quarry!"

Being Quarry means that you have been stolen from and hunted since you were twelve years old. That was the year that one of The Wars stole the life out of your big brother. You never got to say goodbye. That was when you realized all of the meanings of your name.

Being Quarry means that you arrived in Ponyville with nothing, feeling like a hunted animal, pursued by those who had taken everything from you.

Being Quarry means that you had nothing until a colt your age took a risk on you, helped you find one little straw to hang on, and then offered you more.

As Ledger helped you gain your footing, he became more than a partner, he became a friend.

Being Quarry means that you grew this one business, worked with the good, honest geoculturalists. They were a rugged and truthful group of ponies. They relied on you.

You did not disappoint them. Soon you were back in good fortune. Your efforts earned you the respect of the rock farmers, especially this one and his wife.

Being Quarry means that you branched out and started other businesses; you fought hard to regain all that you had lost.

Being Quarry means that the first time somepony tried their old tricks on you here in Ponyville, your old rage returned, your wrath, and it was only by some miracle that he survived and you did not go to jail.

Being Quarry means that acts of spectacular violence are directed at those who would deceive you, and against those who would hurt those you love.

Being Quarry means that only one mare ever realized that you were hurt, that you had been the victim of so much, that all you ever really wanted to be was respected.

Being Quarry means that Wishing Well, Ledger's sister, saw more in you than any other pony you'd ever met. It means that she fell in love with you, and you with her.

Being Quarry means that you wanted to give her everything, surround her in your love… prove to her that her admiration for you was deserved.

Being Quarry means that when you contracted for your new house, the contractors missed their completion dates.

Being Quarry means that you taught yourself how to build, how to transforms stone and wood into a structure using the pallets of building materials that they left on your lawn for weeks at a time.

Being Quarry means that when they threatened to sue you for breach of contract you very firmly, loudly, and violently pointed out that they did it first. You then shoved whatever building materials remained into places on their bodies that were not designed for such.

Being Quarry means that first she filled your life with love, and then she filled the house you had built for her with children.

Being Quarry means that whatever happened outside these walls, inside them you were allowed at all times to offer love, receive it… be a father.

Being Quarry means that your anger never left you, that it was too far engraved upon you to ever be expunged.

Being Quarry means knowing that your wrath accomplishes things that would otherwise be denied you.

Being Quarry means that they cannot ignore you because they fear you.

Being Quarry means forever being afraid. It means that at night you whisper Invoke after Invoke that your family may never have reason to fear you.

Being Quarry means that the knowledge that they do haunts you.

Being Quarry means knowing that your wrath is what sent your oldest colt off to Manehattan to run your interests there.

Being Quarry means that when your second son joined the military, he did it to learn the discipline to never be like you.

Being Quarry means that your third colt did not live more than a week.

Being Quarry means that you held his little body to yours as the life dripped out of him. Even the lives of your children have been stolen from you.

Being Quarry means that after her husband was killed in battle, your oldest daughter sat in the dark of her apartment, falling further and further into depression. It means knowing that the fear of your wrath actually kept her from returning home, bringing her children to a bright place where they could find refuge.

Being Quarry means that your middle daughter does not speak with you often, only comes around to see her mother. It means she is afraid that you will judge her unicorn marefriend, maybe even chase her out of her life.

Being Quarry means not knowing how to tell her that you only hope she is happy, and that this is all you want for her.

Being Quarry means you beat the Well out of a colt who made your youngest daughter call out "No!" in alarm.

Being Quarry means knowing that your anger scared her, terrified her, made her flee to the home of your best friend and the smart daughter he had raised.

Being Quarry means that on a cold morning, you awoke to find Wishing Well having a seizure.

Being Quarry means that you tried to use your strength to keep her from hurting herself.

Being Quarry means that the doctor said it was genetic. Something about having traces of pegasus genes, having the magic of the pegasi show up unusually strong against her earth pony magic, disrupting it.

Being Quarry means finding out that this was most likely what had killed your youngest son.

Being Quarry means that as she gets weaker, you have had to gently carry her into the bathroom, means that you've had to wash her like she was a child.

Being Quarry means that you built a lift inside your home. It means that even as you get older, there is nothing you would not do for her… for them.

Being Quarry means overhearing jokes in the tavern about her family, Ledger's family. You hear one pony joke that her pegasus ancestor had "kept the secret in the family," that her family tree had not branched.

Being Quarry means that you beat him into something best described as "paste."

Being Quarry means having to beg. It means having to beg your oldest daughter to come live with you, to bring the foals to a place where they can be safe and warm. It means that you promised her not to be angry in front of them.

It means blowing it entirely when you go to Ledger's mill to apologize to your youngest, your Little Cupcake. It means having to stand on Ledger's porch and beg her to come home as Ivory had prepared to go off to Canterlot.

Being Quarry means that you both rely on your wrath, your anger, and live in fear of it.

Being Quarry means that you hate and despise those who would use you, use your family to get to you.

Being Quarry means that even though you want what is best for your family, you would not hesitate to do devastating, horrible things to anyone who you felt was using them.

Being Quarry means that you know all of this, and you never wanted it to be this way.

Being Quarry means that you hope that there is some way out of it before you have a stroke or a heart attack.

Being Quarry means not thinking it very damn likely.

There are very few sounds in the world of baking that sound like snapping gingerbread.

As Carrot had removed the foundation, he had set it carefully upon the table, making sure that there was nothing there that would endanger it.

As Cupcake had whipped up some more frosting, the two had taken great care to make sure that the gingerbread house was supported adequately, that no harm could come to it. They had laid aside the foundation as they prepared to insert the gift, each making sure that the critical piece was safe against all harms.

Both had taken their time in doing so, both had done what they thought was the right thing to do.

Yet as it lay there upon the table, some chance of air seemed to catch in it. Perhaps it was the further heat from the ovens, or the cold counter upon which the gingerbread house foundation had been laid. Whatever the circumstances that triggered it what followed was simply fact.

The foundation of the gingerbread house, that single critical piece, snapped.

There was a single little groan, and then a soft wet tear across the surface appeared and became deeper.

In the world of baking, there is no sound quite like the sound of gingerbread breaking.

As that sound flitted across the kitchen, Cupcake looked to her husband and gave a gasp. As he looked to her past the dollop of frosting that sat on his nose, he realized that the project was now in jeopardy, that everything they'd been working towards was now possibly going to waste.

The girls reentered the room, their hooves streaked with mud.

The mud had found its way up to their black dresses, even seemed to catch in their manes. Yet as they came forward, it was hardly the mud that caught the attention of those gathered there.

The funeral director moved to let them pass, let Inkie, Blinkie, and Pinkie smear the wet earth across the floor of the parlor, knew enough to let the girls mourn in their own way.

The flowers stood in their mouths, freshly gathered from the short lawn. There were no long stems, no fancy petals.

Instead what the girls brought with them across the purples and blacks of the rug to where their parents stood were bluebells, Johnny jump-ups, dandelions, buttercups, and the white flowers of crocuses.

These early flowers, the flowers of a world just awakening after Winter Wrap-Up, became their offerings. As they joined their parents, the tearful eyes of the assembly of mourners were upon the three little sisters.

Clyde lifted each girl in turn; let them lay the flowers among the still, quiet form of his mother. As they did, each girl laid a small kiss on the forehead of their grandmother, let their eyes fall over her sweet repose one last time before he lowered them to the floor.

"Goodbye, Granny Pie," Pinkie said as her voice caught. She too laid her flowers, lingering over the one who had taught her how to deal with her fears.

Roxy took the girls outside, the funeral director bringing her moist towels as they went.

Clyde watched them go, felt his brother place his hoof to his foreleg. Together the two stallions spoke an Invoke over the silent form of their mother, kissed her hoof, and with a bow backed away from the casket.

With a nod to the funeral director, the assembly watched the staff close the box. With that the casket was consigned to the flames.

"I love you, mother," he said as he watched the tears roll down Drexel's face, feeling them roll down his own. "Be with father, your parents. The waters of the Well keep you all…"

The brothers accepted the hugs of older family members, cousins, and friends. Soon the assembly began to depart. Soon it was only those who refused to leave them alone in their mourning that remained.

Clyde walked to the porch of the funeral home. There a wet, dirty pile of towels showed where his girls had been wiped of the mud they had gathered as they found the flowers and had prepared their offerings.

There was no talking, and as he passed along the porch, he saw his black-clad family sitting there, the rough breezes of the early spring tossing at them.

They were so very quiet, as quiet as the house had been before Pinkie had found her mark.

He saw the girls leaning against their mother with Inkie in her lap. He sat down beside them, Blinkie squeezing between her mother and father, Pinkie hiding in his lap and beneath his hooves.

Clyde looked down over Pinkie and realized that her hair was once again straight and limp, without the life he had come to see in her. It was as though she were, suddenly without the very life he rejoiced in feeling flow from her.

As he worried over this, he felt her lean against his hooves and heard her voice stay small as she asked, "Daddy, is Granny Pie in the Well of Souls?"

"Yes, Love," he answered. "When a body kin' no longer keep itself alive, the mind and spirit have to leave it."

He felt her move, wipe her head against his forelegs.

"So," she asked as she looked up to him, "Granny Pie is just a spirit now, and she is in the Well? What's it like? What about the other parts? What about…"

Clyde gave a small chuckle even as he fought some new sobs. Questions. Questions, questions, questions…

"Her spirit is in the waters of the Well," he said as he forced his voice to rise. "'Tis as though she were swimming in love itself, and all the ponies she's loved who are gone are there with her."

He looked down at his daughter, across them all, saw that the girls were listening.

"Her body is going back to ash…"

He did not continue. In fact, as he thought on it, he knew that soon he would be spreading her ashes in all the little places she had loved. The garden, the spot by the brook, on the field where she had been married…

At that thought, new tears began to roll down his face.

"But… but what about," began Pinkie Pie.

"Pinkamena," Roxy continued as she saw her husband fading, "you know how your Granny Pie taught you to giggle at the things you were afraid of? How she had started to teach you how to sing and dance? Those, those things last as long as those we share them with. As long as you hold onto them, the part of your Granny Pie that shared them with you, her intellect, that will last your whole life, even the lives of those you share it with…"

"Oh," breathed a somber Pinkie, she and her sisters returning to hanging their heads as they reflected on what had been said.

Pinkie felt wetness above her, felt drops across in her mane. She looked up to see her father fighting tears. Soon he lost his little battle, and with a great gasp, the tears rolled down his face and around her as she sat in his lap.

A thousand images rolled through Clyde's mind. Memories, thoughts, songs… the whispers of his mother's voice, these all floated around him. A recent memory hung at the forefront. It was of his mother teaching Pinkie about music, a lesson that must now go incomplete.

"Don't cry, daddy," Pinkie said, turning and reaching up to him.

"No, it's alright," spoke her mother, leaning closer, gathering Inkie and Blinkie to their father as well. "Your Granny Pie was a lovely mare, and she's earned his tears. 'Tis no shame in cryin' for the ones we love, Pinkie."

"Oh," said Pinkie. As though she had been given permission, she too began to weep, and as the family sat there, the cold an early spring wind floated over them.

As Clyde felt his daughter's tears catching in his coat, he gathered her in closer. In his mind he begged that there should be somepony who could help her, reach into that part of her that his mother had brushed open.

With that he whispered the name of his mother once more and lay his head to that of his wife as his children sat near him.

"I know what a damned leveraged option is!" called Quarry, striking the desk. "Ya' talk to me like I'm a foal again and we'll be done with this damn quick!"

Silence reigned around the small office once more.

One of the three business ponies, the thin one he had immediately hated, cleared his throat.

"I-I apologize, I… we weren't aware that you…" he said while his throat constricted and he sat under the gaze of the massive stallion.

"I've been in business longer than you've been alive, colt," Quarry said, leaning far across the desk.

As he did, another one of the business ponies, the fat one he had immediately hated, gave a small whimper.

Quarry leaned back, saw that he had made his point. No point making them wet themselves. He would hate to have to clean it up.

"So what yer' proposin'," Quarry said, lifting the prospectus, "is that you'll buy my risk in my loans, and cover them, but you'll not actually buy the loan."

"That's exactly what we are saying," spoke the third businesspony, the angry one he had immediately hated, "and that is our offer."

"Sounds like a fool's errand, buyin' up risk with no reward," he said while looking deeper into the proposal and prospectus. There was an obvious plan here, of course, and he waited to see which of these three colts had the guts to say it.

"By-by buying up risk," stammered the fat one, "and covering it, we-we… can build our own credit!"

"By doing that, if the loan is paid, we get credit and you get paid back," added the thin one, jumping in as he saw his partner faltering under Quarry's gaze. "Ponyville is the last stop before Canterlot on both of the principal southern railroads, and with the third one in planning this…"

The thin one gave a gulp as Quarry's grey eyes shifted to him.

"… this city cou-could eventually grow into an imp-important city…"

The thin one trailed off as Quarry gazed down at him, leaned forward with a measured huff.

"These are good folks here in Ponyville," he stated matter-of-factly, the statement having little meaning apart from informing them of where his loyalty lay.

He looked them all up and down once more and then turned back to the prospectus.

"So," he said as his deep breath drifted out over the small, sparse office where the three colts sat squished together in front of him, "you buy up my risk. If everything works out you just grow your credit line and I still get my due, over a longer period I see, but there it is in print. If the loan fails… you get the liquidated assets, and I get my due in cash instead of an empty buildin'."

"That… yes, that's it entirely," said the thin one at the same time as he attempted to gain some room to move.

"I don't see why ya' just don't ask tah' buy the damn loans off me. It'd save you more money in the end if ya' did," rumbled Quarry, his voice once more judgmental.

"This-this way, it… it keeps up the appearance that you own the loan," said the fat one, sweat running down his face, "and-and it's your special… way of, way of doing business that we think will keep our risk at… keep our risk down!"

Quarry gave a series of satisfied laughs, deep rumbling ones that shifted around the office.

"And how is it that you colts are aware of mah'… unique reputation in the world of business?" he said, affecting the airs of the distinguished class of ponies that he so loathed.

"I grew up in the shadow of your… practices," came a voice, one that spun around the room in a low hiss.

Quarry shifted his eyes to the angry colt, the one who had been trying to keep his eyes up the hardest, trying to seem unafraid of him. He was failing at it. Quarry could literally feel him shaking beneath the table.

Quarry gave a low laugh, looked at the angry colt for a long while.

"You know me," spoke Quarry, his voice a low rumble, "but I don't remember beatin' the Well out of you before."

"My father is Penny Pincher," replied the colt, dropping the name before Quarry as though it were a challenge.

Quarry looked at the colt,saw the defiance there behind his eyes. As he gave some more laughs, he looked back up to the colt with a snarling grin.

"You're the foal of that son of a bitch, huh? That lying, thieving goat licker," he said as his wicked smile grew larger. "How's his limp?"

The anger dropped out of the colt. As he withered under Quarry's stare, his antagonism was replaced by fear and shame. Quarry laughed a little more and leaned back in his chair.

It was quiet around the room as Quarry read some more. He coasted along the list of names of his loans that they wanted to buy. He had to admit, they were smart ones if they were looking to get into Ponyville's business and win credit.

Quarry would have rejected the offer if it was for personal loans, college loans, but there were none. Instead they were all real estate and business loans. These colts were hedging their bets. Worse comes to worse and all these loans failed they would be left with swaths of property in one of Equestria's fastest growing cities.

Clever, very clever.

He looked at the names. Near the top he found himself tripping over one not once but twice. He couldn't help but ponder it…

"Carrot Cake's Bakery Co., L.L.C., Inc."

… being as it was such a poor name and all.

Yet, as he did, he felt something pull at him.

"I'm gonna give all of these companies a chance tah' sign on with ya' or not," he said as he rocked in his chair, "we're gonna wait till' the end of next month…"

Three colts began talking at once, raising demands, trying to convince him otherwise.

As they blathered away, Quarry began to feel himself twitch, felt his blood pressure rising. Soon his muscles ached, and at once he stood, reared like a wild horse and caught them all in his gaze.

Though no record of what was said next exists, suffice it to say that the colts left the room looking rather white and with a promissory note in hoof.

They would pay him one hundred bits in advance for each loan, that had been decided as the color drained from their faces. Quarry would keep the money for each loan that subscribed to their risk-abatement program. It was easy money, that he knew. Almost all of them were assured to switch to these young entrepreneurs, young colts who might be more forgiving if they missed a payment, even if that meant having to take longer to pay back their loans.

Even if they still knew that they owed him money, it would allow most of them to think that there was now some sort of layer of protection between he and them. That fear was always there, and he would rather have it than not, had learned that it was the only real motivator. Some even hired employees just to bring him his checks every month just so they would not have to sit under his gaze.

However, if one of his customers chose to stay with him he would owe the colts the interest, the hundred bits, and the payment. It could be anywhere from as little as three hundred bits to as much as a thousand.

No fool would want to stick with him though. So it was a safe bet, and even if he did get somepony fool enough to turn down their offer he would only really be in trouble if the loan failed.

Would sting for a bit losing those bits though. He would let them know that.

He explained all of this to Paperclip, the secretary listening in intently. She too dropped her eyes across the list of proposed purchases.

"Oh!" he heard her give as a little sound of disappointment. "Carrot Cake's Bakery Co., L.L.C., Inc.! There goes my treats every two weeks."

"Meh…" answered Quarry as the name once more rattled around in his head.

"He's not a bad colt, Quarry," answered the secretary.

"Naw," answered Quarry, "none of them are at first… then they end up like those three udder-suckers, just wantin' and schemin'…"

He closed his door. As he did, Paperclip raised her hoof to her mouth. In that moment she realized she would actually miss seeing Carrot Cake come around, would have to savor every bite of whatever treat she gave him the next time he came… most likely the last time.

Quarry sat at his desk, landed there with a grunt. He massaged his hips and legs. Rearing like that had done something to him. "You're getting old," he told himself, "old damn bastard."

"Carrot Cake's Bakery Co., L.L.C., Inc."

The name of the bakery slashed through him once more. He simply couldn't figure out why.

He focused on his family, used them to drive all of the nonsense away. Yet even in his thoughts he couldn't help but think about those who had used him, those who had attempted to use Ledger's family to get to him, had attempted to use his own children to weasel their way into his business and money.

Rage grew behind his eyes. Old families that were long on history and short on funds had taken to trying to have their sons court his daughters. No wonder his middle daughter had run off, was living with a unicorn mare in Baltimare.

Some of them had even sent marriage proposals through the mail! The damn mail!

Undoubtedly, he thought, they knew what he would do to them if they even mentioned the word "dowry" in his presence, that ancient and laughable idea that only existed in the minds of the most affluent of families.

Instead he found himself pondering what type of colt he hoped Cupcake would find.

Of all unlikely ideas the name of Carrot Cake's Bakery Co., L.L.C., Inc. once more flashed through his mind.

Paperclip could hear him laughing clear through his office door.

That gangly mess? That dizzy bakery colt? That under-biting, stuttering prick? That…

Quarry stopped himself, knew he was being unfair. It was hypothetical, just a trick played on his mind from thinking about two unrelated things. He doubted that they had ever even met apart from at the mill.

Besides, Cake owed him money. That doesn't mix, business and family. He would have some agenda, something he would want for being with her. That crossed the line, crossed it utterly.

No stallion was going to use his family, especially not his Little Cupcake, to get close to him and to his money.

The only way that colts with such damn notions were going to get close to his daughter was if the pieces he tore off of them landed near her.

Once Upon a Mattress

Chapter 9: Once Upon a Mattress

It felt good to stand there in the sun.

As Cupcake stood in the sunlight that streamed in through the large picture window at the end of the upstairs hallway, she felt the heat across her face, back, and flank.

Winter Wrap-Up had taken a day and a half. Not especially good, but not bad either.

After the muddy family had returned home, she had helped wash up her nieces and nephew and then had helped lay them to their naps.

Soon each of the grown ponies had wiped away the mud and had washed themselves in the warm waters.

She had been last, and as she had come out of the bathroom to the sound of soft breaths she, had realized she was the only pony awake in the house.

It felt good to stand there in the sun.

As the rays fell over Cupcake, she could feel the last of the moisture of her bath lifting from her. At once she took her brush and began to comb out her tail, her mane, letting the rose colored wafts seek out their familiar place.

She had tried to find a place in the Wrap-Up away from her family, desperately tried to find a way to be with Carrot without looking like she was trying to get away from them.

It had not worked, and as such, she had missed being with him that morning.

She missed being with him more and more. Her brush slowly came to a standstill, and as it did, Cupcake felt her head lower until she stared at the floor.

She just had to get to a point where her father could see that Carrot did not want anything from her, that he wanted to give her everything, wanted to shower her with his love and affection.

As she stroked the brush through her mane once more, her plan, her long and consuming plan, ran through her mind. She had to help Carrot get the bakery to the point where it was prospering on its own, where no one could think that he needed money.

Once that was accomplished, she could begin dropping her small hints, let her father know that she had feelings for her partner. He had assumed her partner was a mare and she had not corrected him. Just broaching the fact that it was in fact a stallion might cause him to have an aneurism.

Her father would see that they had been working together for over a year, and as that sank in, then she could begin describing how wonderful he was, how he had been seeing her for over a year…

Before her father would have the stroke, she would point out that Carrot did not know who he was, did not have any idea about his business, did not want anything from them.

In many ways she wanted to thank her father for the violence he had committed on her behalf, as disgusting as it was to think on it that way. She began to wonder what her life would look like if any of those other stallions whose parents had made dates had slid into her life and had won her heart.

No, none of them had made her feel the way Carrot does, none of them had ever looked at her like he did.

Her father would not know the difference, of course.

She knew her father, knew that despite his brutal, horrific worldview, all he really wanted was for her to be safe and happy.

It was the same thing, she knew, that Carrot wanted.

All it would take is to bridge that gap, and all that would take is time. Time to implement her plan, maybe another year.

She pondered her plan again, wondered if it would sound as stupid if she said it out loud.

She knew it was ridiculous, knew that there was so many loopholes and chances for disaster. Yet it was working, she hoped, and every day that passed meant that it drew one day closer to being true.

As they had spent quiet moments in the bakery wiping their faces together, giving small kisses as they worked, she could hardly disagree with his choice.

She lifted her face to the sun once more, felt the wonderful heat of the first day of spring fall around her as it cascaded in through the glass.

In the window she watched some ponies go up and down the street, saw that they too were rejoicing in the sun.

Half of the ponies in this town knew of her plan, at least those in her circle. From the day she had stood in Ivory's hallway beaming with a radiant light in what she had found, the plans that the two mares had made had passed from pony to pony. They had implored all whom they had thought even stood a chance of giving it away to stand firm, to let them be drawn together.

There were only two ponies in this entire city that had been strictly forbidden from learning the rules, from guessing at "The Game of This."

They were the two stallions she loved most in this world. Quarry, her father, and Carrot Cake, her lover…

Lover. She giggled to herself at the word. As a soft smile went over her face, she continued to brush her mane. The word "lover" had been used to describe relationships far more functional and utilitarian than what she and Carrot shared. In many ways she wished she could fight to claim the word for her own use, to apply it the wonderful sensations she had found as she lay against his chest.

It was the only word that even came close to how being near him felt, how brushing beside him sent waves of happiness through her.

She felt herself starting to sway back and forth, matching the remembered cadences of their dances. The sway mimicked the way they sat together, his forelegs wrapped around her, rocking her as the smells of the bakery coasted over them.

Her swaying slowed as she remembered the feeling of his nose to hers. As the sunlight fell over, her the flat of the brush came to rest against her face as the feeling of the long, slow motions of their nuzzling caught within her.

The feel of his head wiping against her, the feel of his cheek to hers floated over her, became tangible. The soft, sweet touch of his kiss…

Cupcake's side-to-side sway stopped as she felt these things, let herself remember these things as though they were already cherished memories instead of things that had happened the day before… things that could happen this afternoon if she so chose…

Instead, her body began to move again, this time her motions taking a new direction as the sunlight cascaded over her, and she pressed the flat of the brush to her face.

Forward, backward. At first in the slightest, but soon the motion grew, and as it did, her eyes closed. She took short breaths as the vision of Carrot's green eyes stared down over her tenderly. As she looked up to him, the flat of the brush became his hoof, and she felt it, watched him as he lifted his hoof to her face.

Forward, backward. His mouth moved, and she sensed the words "I love you" floating down over her, covering her. This perfect daydream moved on as he lifted a stray bit of her mane from her face, gently placed it behind her ear. She reached up, felt him taking her hoof in his as it lay upon the pillow.

Cupcake went stark still, felt herself start to blush in pointless embarrassment as she slowly turned to see if there was any other pony in the hallway.

There were none, only the small sounds of a napping household meeting her as she cast her gaze down the hallway.

She continued blushing to herself, surprised at how real the daydream had felt, how tangible and perfect it seemed.

Suddenly she wanted to be with Carrot.

Suddenly she wanted to be looking into those green eyes and touching that freckled face.

It felt good to stand there in the sun… but nothing felt like being near him, close to him.

She quickly trotted to her room, put in the earrings he had given her. Moving quietly through the large house, she left a note for her family upon the table. "I might be back for dinner," it read, "maybe not."

Hopefully not.

With that she trotted out once more down the path and to the street. As her hooves sounded out happily across the cobblestones, she thought about all of the things that had happened, had played into her favor as he plan went forward.

It was all working, and although it would take time, she would soon be with Carrot… not have to keep secrets, not from him or her father.

She was very glad that it was working. She thought of how fortunately things have worked out. She was glad that Carrot had left in time at the mill… she couldn't imagine how devastating it would be to her plan if Carrot and Quarry ever really met, if Carrot learned about her father's business, gave him reason to believe that Carrot wanted something from him.

She chuckled at her pessimism. It was all working out, it was going fine…

… it was not as though Carrot had borrowed money from her father or anything horrible like that.

The bell of the bakery sounded out, and Carrot looked up from behind the counter. Upon seeing her standing there, he was quickly out from behind the counter and trotting up to where she stood with a vast smile growing across his face.

Within the space of moments their noses were together, sharing once more the warmth, the peaceful feeling that came when they shared this touch.

It continued as the sounds of the first day of spring fell over the bakery. It continued even as the smell of all the baked goods wafted out from the kitchen, from the pies and treats that sat in their cases.

After a good long moment they lifted their heads.

"Hi," she breathed.

"Hi," he answered, tilting his head slightly left to right to find her gaze as the light poured in through the bakery windows.

It felt good standing here in the sun with her nearby.

"I got some good news in the mail today!" he said as he towards the kitchen. He lifted his hoof for her to follow, eager to show her how well he was playing "The Game of This," that he was moving the pieces in the directions he hoped help her see the game ending.

He looked up to see her still staring at him with the same expression that had sat upon her face as their touch had parted, as he had lifted his nose from hers.

A soft expression laid there, a beautiful one.

"It's here in the kitchen," he said, "do, do you want me to bring it out to you?"

"Oh, no," she said, batting her eyes at him, "let's go and have a look-see!"

She came trotting into the kitchen, brushing past him slowly, catching him in a nuzzle beneath the chin as she looked the kitchen over.

Upon the table lay some opened envelopes. It was not much of surprise, as she saw the seal of the Royal Ministry of Finance she could guess what at least one of them contained.

She placed her hoof upon them, peered over them. As she did, something of a small game flit through her mind. With a sly glance, she peered at him as he stood there proudly with his eyes closed and chest puffed out in pride at his accomplishments.

"There's three bits of news there, the first is that…" he began.

"Oh!" she cried, placing her hoof to her face and feigning a look of discomfort. "It's simply too dark to see in here, dont'cha know?"

"Is, is it?" asked Carrot as he deflated from his prideful stance and spun to look across what seemed to be a perfectly well lit kitchen.

"Let's look them over out in the showcase room," she said, tilting her head and hiding her expression. As the soft light fell across her, he saw Cupcake take the three envelopes from the table, lifting them with her mouth.

She looked at him and batted her eyes again, and as she trotted lightly past him once more she seemed to bounce along. As she brushed past him again, she loitered along his body, nuzzling beneath his chin and lifting her tail so that it tickled him as she swept beneath and beside him.

Awareness began to grow in Carrot as his mouth moved up and down for a second. He followed her out into the main room of the bakery.

She stood there in the middle of the room where shafts of spring light flowed through the large windows.

As he looked upon her, she still held the envelopes in her mouth, the same soft expression lying across her, the colors of her coat and mane catching in the light that poured over her.

She tossed her head as though asking him to come and claim the letters, chase her if need be.

Inside Carrot, one hundred thousand voices began singing, doves flew around, and angelic beings wafted around tossing rose petals.

He slowly crossed over to where she stood. At once she lifted her hooves high and trotted to the cash register.

"Oh, no, the light is no good here either!" she said, smiling as she placed them on the counter.

"Really?" he asked as he looked upon her. "There's not enough…"

As he approached, she gathered up the letters and scampered away to the other side of the room, looking over her shoulder at him with the letters still held in her mouth.

She laid them among the pies that stood in their cupboard. "Oh dear!" she intoned. "Hardly any light here either!" Her blinking showed her to be a liar…

… an adorable, beautiful, radiant liar.

As he approached, she once more affected her disguise, gathered up the letters with a revealing giggle and scurried away as he drew near.

"Oh, nope!" she called brushing past him, catching her cheek to his as she missed the letters, grabbed them up on a second pass that sent the sensation of her coat along the length of his body. "That's not a good spot either!"

"Dearie me, dearie me!" she said, affecting the airs of one wrapped in deep disappointment. "Is there no good place to read a letter in your whole bakery, Carrot?"

He smiled as he followed her through any number of places that would have been far more than adequate for the purposes of reading. At times the tiny wafts of flour and dust that hovered through the bakery fell through streaming tunnels of light, any of which could have supplied her with enough light to read if that were her intent.

Yet he sensed, as her giggling sojourn continued, that was not her intent. It seemed to be far from it, far from it indeed.

He emerged from following her through another cascade of amber light and stood there blinking for a second as he let the dizziness of their roundabout chase fall away from him. As he looked up, he panned across the whole floor of the bakery and wondered where she had fled to, where she awaited his welcome pursuit.

He took some small breaths and realized he could not see her.

A giggle rose to meet him.

His hooves made individual sounds as he turned slowly. Carrot took a little breath and then dared lift his head towards the stairs.

She stood there upon the first few steps, the perfect resonant blue of her coat shining, the rosy tones of her mane and tail catching once more in the afternoon light.

"Perhaps, oh, maybe there's some good reading light up here?" she asked, the same soft expression across her face that had been lingering there since she had arrived.

Her eyes drifted over him.

With another giggle she slowly lowered her head. Without taking her eyes off of Carrot she gathered up the letters, batted her eyes at him once more, and then deliberately climbed the stairs, accentuating each motion of her body as she did.

Inside Carrot the chorus sang louder, the doves flew around in a turbulent haze, and the angelic beings dumped clouds of rose petals over him.

There was a beautiful mare on his stairs, the one whom he loved more than any other in the world, and she was asking for him to follow.

He went forward, placed his hoof on the first step. As he did, he heard her gain the landing above and turn slightly at the top of the stairs.

The letters still stood in her mouth, and as he focused on her, she seemed to shine back down upon him, as though he was facing into a newborn sun. Her perfect expression draped itself across him once more and he placed his other hoof upon the stairs.

She gave some small laughs, the sound muffled in the slightest by the letters. With what seemed like a tiny jubilant bounce, the giggling form of Cupcake seemed to lift into the air. She give a small ecstatic leap, and then trotted down the hallway and out of his view.

There was a clattering of her hooves overhead, and soon the sound of a familiar door opening echoed down the stairwell.

Inside Carrot the chorus began gesturing at him wildly as they held a high crescendo, the doves seemed to be flinging themselves at him bodily, the angelic beings beating at him with their petal baskets.

There was a beautiful mare in his bedroom, the one whom he loved more than any other in the world, and she was waiting for him to join her.

Carrot felt his hooves dance around beneath him. From his mouth came words like "Omigosh!" and other statements over which he only had the most basic of control.

He fought to make his anxious hooves follow his commands. He turned to the door of the bakery and quickly scanned the street. To his eternal gratitude he saw nopony angling towards his bakery.

With that he quickly took down the "Open" sign and replaced it with one that read "Back in an Hour." At once he was cantering towards the stairs.

He stopped though, felt himself spin around twice and then go back towards the door.

As soon as "Back in an Hour" had been replaced with "Closed," he found himself having to struggle to keep from galloping across the wooden floor and up the stairs.

Carrot took some breaths, ran his hoof through his mane, and with that, walked through the door of his own bedroom.

She lay there on her back, her head hanging over the near edge of the bed, humming something low and sweet while she pondered the envelope and held it over her head.

Her rear legs were crossed at the ankles, slowing waving through the air as she rolled her hips in rhythm with the delicate tune. As he entered, he let the sight wash over him, let every little curve of her body sit across his mind as she sat in such beautiful repose.

"Oh, yes," she smiled, turning those rosy eyes upon him once more, "the light is much better in here… I like it much better in here, don'tcha know…"

The room was darker than he had remembered leaving it that morning, and as he looked around, he realized that she had drawn one of the curtains… the one awakened him each morning by dropping light in his eyes.

She had not wanted any light in her eyes as she lay upon the bed.

"Now what's the good news," she said as she shifted her body, "that's worth all of this bother?"

He watched her sit up, raise herself so that she lay across the bed in a more typical equestrian pose, her legs drawn up beneath her. Her mane fell across her face in rose-colored wafts of competing tones. As she tapped the bed for him to come join her, it was all he could do to keep from floating there.

He stepped forward and lay down next to her. Soon the two sat sideways across the bed. As he did, the chorus, the doves, and the angels that had flitted around in his mind all blushed brightly and began to slowly trot and fly away whilst citing prior responsibilities.

"Well," he said, reaching in to collect the first envelope, "the first good news is that I got the refund check…"

She lifted the envelope with her mouth once more, leaned to him. He leaned forward and looked into her wishful glance as he pulled the envelope with his teeth.

He watched as she spun over onto her back, held the check over her and smiled up to it. Her rear legs fell over him, across him, and the amazing sense of her closeness filled him. "They, they found some things we forgot," he said "and they added it back in, so it's larger than we thought it would be!"

"Oh, Carrot," she said in a little voice as she turned to face him, letting the check fall past her head to the floor, "that's good news! What are you going tah' do with the bits?"

He tilted his head back and forth, looked down to her.

"Well, there's any number of things I need here at the bakery," he said with a sigh, attempting to disguise it as a chuckle, "but, well, is there anything you'd like to do with it? I mean… we, you know we could always have a really nice dinner… or go someplace…"

A single voyeuristic dove cooed loudly inside Carrot as he saw her scrunch up, bring her forelegs closer to herself and a luminous smile fly through her.

"Oh Carrot!" she whispered as she reached up, lifted his face with her hoof. She was so happy, this he saw painted over her, and soon her contentment leapt to him as she guided him down to her lips.

The kiss hovered between them. In a moment he had reached down once more, laying another upon her as she ran her hoof through his mane.

Silence hung over the bed for a second as the fading light fell through the windows.

"What was the second bit of good news?" she asked, letting a few more strands of his hair fall past her hoof.

"Hummm? Umm! Oh," said Carrot, the expression across his face like someone caught in an enchantment, "the local newspaper did a story on small businesses! It seems that the chamber of commerce ran with it. Look who got an award for best new business!"

Again she watched as he reached gently between them. Lifting the envelope, he again waited, let her withdraw what was within.

The tail of the ribbon fell away, hanging at odd angles along where it had been folded around the certificate.

She looked upon the gilded words, the long boring text beneath. It told her nothing she did not already know… it said that Carrot was wonderful, giving, welcoming.

"Carrot!" she spoke in a staged whisper. "I'm so excited for you! You, you can put it above the cash register."

She looked up to see his head raise, as though anticipating her request. He had guessed correctly. Once more she called him to her, let the touch of his lips meet hers, once, twice…

…and, to her surprise and welcome, he gave her a third. This one fell just at the base of her neck and beneath her ear, tickling her in the slightest. She first leaned into it, gave a small giggle as the feel of his whiskers brushed her coat. Then she leaned away as he settled another there, let the feel of his lips upon her neck play there.

As a single angel zoomed in to snatch up the peeping dove, Carrot looked down over her. He could not help but chance a long look across the perfect blue tones of her coat, down to where her chest lifted and lowered in slight motions, causing the coversheet to move and the pillow beyond her to rise in sympathy as each of her breaths passed with a soft sound.

His next kiss would go there.

"There's, there's one more good piece of news," he said, looking rather prideful, "my loan is gonna be sold!"

"What loan?" Cupcake whispered as the shadow of a great, vast fear fell over her.

"Oh," began Carrot with his eyes still closed and a prideful look on his face, "I took one out months back to pay for a few things… I didn't want to bother you with it. So, it's gonna be sold…"

She lifted the letter and began to look it over. Her eyes centered on the letterhead…

… and with that her world split apart.

"… and now if I sign we can pay less over the three years," continued Carrot, not sensing that anything had changed as he sat upon the bed with his head still held high, "than we would if I'd stayed with the first for the year!"

With that Carrot lowered his head and anticipated once more meeting hers, resolved to this time take his kiss farther, anticipated the small sounds of her reaction.

Instead all he received was a mouthful of blanket.

He shot upright in alarm, looked along the length of the bed. Instead of lying there with him, she was near the window, her eyes darting across the letter.

As Cupcake's eyes reached the end, the signature stood out, reached up to her as nearly a year of careful planning was washed away. As a familiar signature rested there, it sat upon her hopes and dreams like the black spot on a page of sacred text given to a condemned mariner.

"Oh no," she breathed as she cantered across the room, holding the letter to the other window as though she believed that perhaps it was just a trick of the light, as though she could somehow change the words written there by forcing a new perspective upon them.

It remained the same, the signature, the one that slowly tore away her plan and ripped at her careful choices even as she stood there.

"Cupcake?" breathed Carrot while he shifted his body and tried to reach for her, realizing that something horrible was happening to her… watching as her calmness and certainty dripped out of Cupcake. He watched her marvelous decisiveness falling from her in a puddle that gathered on the floor of his bedroom.

"Oh no," she said again. At once she dropped the letter, let it fall from her hoof as though it had burned her.

"Oh no! Oh no, oh no!" she cried aloud, her head shifting from side to side, her eyes darting around as though some horror had reached for her.

Carrot clambered from the bed, half tripping as he fell out of it.

"Cupcake, Cupcake what's wrong?" he asked, reaching his hoof out to her.

"Oh Carrot! What did you do? What did you do?!" she said as she fixed him in a gaze that was half one of accusation, half one of disbelief.

"Carrot," she said as she pointed to the signature, "Do, do you know who that is? Please, Carrot, tell me… who is he?"

Carrot looked down and saw Quarry's name upon the signature. A thousand worries went through him. Why was that name scaring her so? Well, apart from the obvious fact that the one who wore it was a massive stallion and a borderline psychopath.

"Quarry? He's my loan officer. I… the realtor set me up with him months ago, back in, jeez…the fall? You-you have to know him, he was there in the mill that one time, the time he threw those…"

"Is that all!?" she demanded of him, literally jumping to him and pressing her reddening face into his. "Please, Carrot, tell me the truth! Is that all you know about him?! Is that really all!?"

"Ughh…" began Carrot as his eyes shifted and he looked for facts, his ears laying down under her gaze, "He's got a nice secretary? He's Ledger's friend? He doesn't decorate his office very well…. he kinda likes the snacks I bring them? The goldfish in the reception room is named 'Bubbles'?"

Cupcake searched his eyes, and as she did, she saw worry growing in them, fear… fear for her. "Please, Cupcake, you're scaring me… what's going on?" he whispered, again offering her his hoof.

With a single huff of emotion, Cupcake wheeled around and stared down at the letter as it sat upon the floor.

She yelled at herself for doubting him, for thinking that the stallion who had lived to draw the pain out of her for nearly a year would lie to her. She cursed herself for believing, even for a second, that this gentle stallion who wanted nothing more than to hold her close could be so callous.

No, he did not know. He did not know.

But his innocence would not save him.

Daddy would not believe it.

Daddy would not believe a word of it.

Daddy would tear Carrot apart, rage at him for using her to get to him, for wanting something from his family.

Daddy would devastate Carrot, break him like all the other colts.

No, please, not Carrot. Not Carrot!

She took two shuddering breaths. Cupcake looked up from the paper and looked to where a set of deeply scared green eyes still stared to her, the ears still back in alarm.

"You don't know, Carrot," she said while tears gathered at the edge of her eyes, "you honestly don't know…"

"Cupcake," he whispered as he lifted his hoof to her once more.

"Quarry is my father!" she called aloud, her voice breaking as the tears began rolling down her cheek. "He's my father!"

Something inside Carrot snapped. It was as though it filled his guts with an acid, one that began to spread through him, settling in his throat and behind his eyes…

"He's my father!" she repeated, her voice tinged with tears. "You loaned money from my father!"

Carrot's vision receded. Suddenly it was as though Cupcake were standing hundreds of yards away.

Suddenly Carrot understood, understood the entirety of her fears. Suddenly the full playing field of "The Game of This" opened up in front of him and he saw the challenge laid before him. For the first time he saw what she had been protecting from him, forcing ignorance on him for his own safety.

Suddenly the massive heaving form of Quarry stood there, quivering, twitching in rage… keeping him from being with her.

Suddenly all of the threats the stallion had ever leveled, had ever let slip past his lips in regards to something as unsubstantial as money, these were all magnified a thousand fold.

He had mixed money with family. He had put himself in the spot of having Quarry's money and Quarry's daughter in the same hoof.

Suddenly Carrot understood. Suddenly Carrot knew.

Carrot shook himself, looked back to realize she was slowly circling the letter, crying as she did and looking over it as though it were a death notice.

"Cupcake," he said as he trotted forward, "we-we can figure this out… if, if take the longer period…"

"It won't matter!" she said. "It won't matter, Carrot!"

To his horror she pelted off into the hallway, her hooves soon sounding out down the stairs.

He at once circled around in his room, thought about how thoroughly the happy scene that had begun there had been cleared away. Soon he was following her, leaving the damnable letter lying on the floor in the fading sun.

"Cupcake, Cupcake!" he called as he followed her, hearing her tiny sobs echoing through the stairwell.

He missed the last few steps and stumbled down the stairs, landed on his chin. As he called out in pain suddenly she was with him, lifting him.

Had he known it was that easy, he would have thrown himself down the staircase.

As he sat there throbbing with pain, she spoke his name over and over, held him close as the rapid beats of her heart caught in his ears.

"Please, please, Cupcake," he said as he winced, "we can find a way… he's, he's not a bad guy, mostly, I mean… he likes my treats, kinda."

"Oh Carrot!" she cried again. "You don't know what he's done to colts-colts who've just wanted to be with me to get close to him…"

With that she laid a litany of horror stories upon him. How she had missed going to her Junior Promenade because the colt who had offered to take her had pulled up in a fine carriage… and had honked the horn.

As Quarry had ripped the colt from the carriage, he had yelled at him for calling for her "like she was an animal to be rounded up."

She told him about another pony, this one seemingly a gentlecolt, who had sat and spoken with at the country club. In the bathroom, Quarry had heard the colt talking about how if he dated her it would be good for his career, help him get closer to Ledger through Ivory.

Her father had almost drowned him in the very toilet the colt had been using. He had made the colt's friends watch.

Finally, the tale of how one colt had been careful, had avoided all sorts of impropriety, had negotiated the waters. She could tell that he was like the rest, the first to believe that he had "gotten away with it," yet she had willfully let him court her. She wanted to believe that she could have love too, that maybe if she just let him near, she would be able to find more in him.

As they had sat together on the porch, he had reached for her hoof, reached for her nuzzle… and then reached for far too much.

"No!" she had called in alarm.

For the next fifteen minutes she had thought for sure she was watching her father murder him, watched the whip crack across the colt and the wetness of blood shining on his coat.

It was only by some miracle that he escaped, only by some miracle that as her father sat on the porch awaiting the police and his judgment that they never came.

It was that act of brutality, that act of her father's wrath on her behalf, the way that in her father's distorted worldview he was showing his love for her that had sent her fleeing to Ivory's home.

"I-I can't stand it, Carrot!" she said. "The though… the thought of that happening to you! I-I didn't love any of them, didn't want to be with any of them!"

She lifted his face to hers, wiped her hoof across Carrot's face as he shook in pain from his fall.

"I don't… didn't want you to end up like that," she said as her voice softened. "We, Ivory and I, worked so hard to make sure that everyone knew… everyone knew except you and daddy. I was so sure… sure that if you never got to meet him…"

Suddenly Carrot's mind flashed back to the mill, saw her begging him to leave on that first day he had first set eyes on the stallion… upon her massive father.

"We-we can find a way," she said, sniffling and standing, helping him to his hooves, "it-it will just take time… take time."

He saw her looking around, saw her thinking as her decisive mind went to work.

"I'll-I'll take a job again, ask Canapés for my old job… graduation season is coming up she'll need help…" she began. Inside an instant she was giving a squeak of surprise.

Cupcake felt herself being pulled into Carrot, felt him hobble as he tried to wrap her in his forelegs.

"Please don't," he said, "I-I don't want you to have to do that for me again, for us. I want you here… I want you with me."

She tried to look at him, but she could not raise her head. He had already been so patient, had already waited for her to open herself to him… and this had been his reward.

"If-if I take a job, we can pay back the loan early no matter which one we choose," she said, the analytical part of her, "and… and then it becomes a matter of seeing how long we-we can wait before I tell daddy things, drop hints. It, it can still work, Carrot… it will, it will just take time."

"How-how long, do you figure?" came his voice in a defeated whisper.

"A year… or so," she gulped, "maybe."

A pained wail went through the bakery, and the sound of Carrot hitting the floor echoed among the pies and tarts.

"Please, Carrot!" she said, circling him as she had the letter upstairs. "I know! I know that it hurts, but… it's the only way I can see out of this! It's the only way in the long run…"

He looked up to her with sunken eyes. His expression pained, cracked. "I love you Cupcake," he said, "I just want to be close to you, near you…"

She took a long breath, looked down to him.

"I know," she said, forcing herself to smile for his sake, "I love you, Carrot. Don't stop trying to be with me, ever, please…"

"Never," he said as he rose to his hooves. The two stared at one another as their emotions settled around them, caught in the low places of the bakery and settled among the dust bunnies.

With that she lifted her nose, and in an instant his was to hers. As the small motions moved between them, something awful fell through Carrot, an insight that shocked him.

His touch had failed to lift the pain out of her, had failed to free her of worry.

The Stand

Chapter 10: The Stand

As the broken foundation of the gingerbread house stood before them, Cup Cake and Carrot Cake faced any number of decisions.

The broken foundation sat on the clear, white countertop while the forlorn gingerbread house itself stood on its stanchion, an upturned baking rack pressed into a new function. Both awaited their choice.

There were many possible of ways of going about the repair, but one must be chosen. One course of action must be called upon, or the whole project could soon be reduced to rubble.

The two ponies looked at one another. In an instant, Cup Cake was going through various cupboards. Carrot saw her gathering up ginger, nutmeg, and cloves.

Carrot realized what she was doing. He saw the look of depression across her face as she began to make her plans.

Cup Cake was preparing to make more gingerbread, to start a new batch.

She looked to him and began to speak. At that moment new voices rang out in the showcase room. At once they both turned towards the door, but she pointed once more to the frosting that still stood resolutely upon his nose.

The two looked at one another, she painting a small smile of comfort, and then quickly went to see to the customers.

Carrot turned back to the gingerbread house, saw the ingredients that she had begun to lay out. She wanted to take the safe route, the route that would lead to the foundation being remade and reset.

But, he knew, that would take time. Time to knead, time to chill, time to shape the dough and bake it.

Time… time was already working against them.

Carrot took a deep breath and looked around his kitchen… their kitchen. Upon the table the various utensils they had been using sat, some already covered with the sticky remains of dough or coated with the same batch of frosting that still remained upon his nose.

If they wished to have this project done in time to present it, to capture the meaning of what this special order meant for them, then they would need time.

They did not have time to begin anew.

He would make the decision. He would go forward right now as best he knew how.

Carrot looked to the baking rack where the long discarded pieces they had broken off of the gingerbread stood. To his alarm he heard the gingerbread house give the slightest of creaks, heard it begin to protest the absence of its critical component.

With that he grabbed up the trimmed gingerbread and was grateful that they'd not yet thrown them away. As he did, he laid them to the old broken foundation, measuring them against the cracked surface.

In one motion he lifted the bowl of thick frosting, the same type that she had used to make the dollop that still rested on his nose.

He began to rebuild the foundation, Carrot making his choice, deciding to force the issue and bring the project back around. He would find a way that they could go forward together without surrendering all that they had won.

It had been a miserable two weeks.

The mud of early spring still clung to ponies as they walked down the street. As they entered the bakery, their cursory efforts to wipe the mud from themselves failed to win the anything but the slightest of false smiles from Carrot.

As he mopped up after them, he wondered if his customers were intentionally avoiding walking down the cobblestone streets to give him something to do. It was as though the ponies who walked out of his bakery with their cakes and croissants were attempting to draw him out of his reflection, help him avoid the realization of what was happening around him.

The bakery was empty. She was not there and it was far, far, far more than just her helping hooves that he missed.

Canapés had taken her back, had been wonderfully understanding and quick to offer a spot on her staff to one who had proven her worth before. Carrot had actually met her, Cupcake bringing her employer around to meet him and see the bakery that they had been working so very hard to establish… had been trying so very hard to give a strong foundation…

As he showed Canapés around, he could sense the unicorn beginning to understand that something had gone wrong, that there was something hovering between them.

As they had wished her goodbye, they stood in the doorway. Standing there in the spot where they had shared their first kiss brought to mind how far they had come together… how far they still have to go.

He lowered his head to her and made little motions to ask for her touch. She replied just as willingly as ever, still sought his contact, but the heaviness was still there. No matter how gently he rolled his nose to hers, no matter lightly he touched his face to hers, the fear would not come out. He could not draw the worry out of her.

What else is a stallion for?

"Cupcake," he worried, "there's, there has to be some way… I mean, if, if we talk to your father…"

"Carrot," she breathed as she laid her head across his withers, "my father… my father sees the world in two ways. You're either family and friend or an enemy waiting for your chance…"

He slowly began to sway, let his motion rock her as she spoke of growing up in a house where the love of her father, strong and palpable, could in a moment descend into a whirlpool of rage and wrath that would send her and her siblings galloping to their rooms in fear.

Though never directed at them unless in the most dire of situations, such as when her older brothers had been playing with fireworks and burned down the barn, it was still what surrounded them… and defined him.

As the two ponies swayed there, Cupcake told him about all the ponies who had stolen from her father, how his cynicism ruled him and made him see the world in white and blood red.

"He, he loves me, Carrot, loves me as any father does," she said as she moved her head from his withers and once more placed them in the hollow of his chest. "I'm his Little Cupcake."

With that she told him of those days after her mother had begun having her seizures, told him about how her body had begun to fail around her as the magic of the pegasi sought her, sat upon her pegasus genes that lay hidden deep within the earth pony.

In those deep, dark days she had found her father sitting in the living room, staring deep into the fireplace.

"My father doesn't cry, Carrot," she said. "I'm never seen him cry a day in my life, but…"

Quiet had hung around the house, and as she pondered the massive form of her father, he had given a single sob, the feeling of uselessness ripping out of Quarry and filling the room.

She had realized that her father was feeling weak, feeling powerless. These were two emotions that he had fought his whole life to avoid, and now that the mare he loved most in the world was ill, there was no way he could help her, make her well and complete again.

What else is a stallion for?

With that Cupcake had gone into the kitchen, decisive and thoughtful as always, and after an hour, she had brought out two cupcakes. She presented them, one for her and one for her father.

He had gathered his daughter to him and grasped her in a massive hug. As her father had praised his Little Cupcake, there had been the sound of falling stars sliding across a frozen lake and she had felt quicksilver falling down her flank.

It had been worth waking her mother, waking Wishing Well so that she could see Cupcake's new mark. It was only after lying with her mother and father in their bed, happily wrapped in their mutual embrace, that she had realized that she had forgotten to actually eat the cupcake.

As Cupcake and Carrot sat in the doorway, swaying back and forth together in harmony, he realized that her father and he shared at least one thing. They both loved Quarry's daughter, both loved the rose-eyed mare who rested against him lightly.

It was a lunch for the Hay Council today, two weeks after she had begun again with Canapés. She would need to be off soon to the barn where old ponies would stand around discussing things over which she had no interest. Reluctantly she lifted her head from his chest, lifted her nose to him once more.

As he answered, he felt her make the motion that invited that much more. Soon their kisses drew them to one another.

As they did, Carrot fought to drag some of the pain and worry out of her, ask with the feel of his lips for her to surrender some of it, let him take away some of the burden she felt.

As he stood, she looked at him with her wonderful smile. He stood on three legs and watched as she disappeared into the crowded streets of Ponyville.

He watched where she had disappeared for a long time. His kiss had once more failed to achieve its purpose.

The morning rush was over, and as noon approached, he began to put away the baking tools that had dried in the dish rack.

He closed up the display cases so that the few bumbling flies would not find their way to what he had made, to the delicate frostings and glazes that sat glistening on his creations.

With that he put away the mop and instead swept the floor with a broom, carefully catching up all of the dried dirt and dust that lay in the hidden places of his bakery.

With that he flung the broom into the closet so that it rattled around and then fell out upon the floor. He kicked at it, sounds of frustration falling out of him as he did.

He then flipped the sign on the door to "Back in an Hour" and as he cursed and made his way up the stairs.

He trotted straight into his bedroom and threw himself upon the bed. He stared at the ceiling for a long time, maybe an hour, without thinking of anything.

When he did begin thinking again, it was about his failure, his failure to lift that worry from her. She was worried about her father. She was also worried for him. She was worried for Quarry, her father that she loved and was afraid of. She was worried for Carrot, her partner and deepest friend that she loved and was afraid for.

She was worried about them, these two players in "The Game of This." Her fears, hopes, dreams, love… these all coalesced in the form of these two stallions, stallions she was concerned for and troubled over.

He did not want her troubled. He wanted her happy, smiling, and radiant.

He wanted to see the sharp dash of her eye when she was being devious. He wanted to see the way her shoulders came up and the little wicked smile went across her face when she was scheming some small happy scheme.

He wanted to hear the sound of her hooves across these floors, hear her voice calling to him across the kitchen as she became filled with ideas.

He wanted to hear how her day had gone… wanted her to confide everything in him. Wanted to hear her giggles and her laughter.

He wanted to have her near him, wanted her to brush beside him when she was happy, wanted her to lean against his chest and find strength there when she was sad and bothered.

He simply wanted to feel her approach, know that in an instant his nose would be to hers, that soon after his lips would be to hers. The feel of her coat went through him, the feel of her hoof touching to his went over him as he closed his eyes and sighed aloud to the lonely room.

Carrot turned on his side and thought of the times she had wanted him to lie here with him upon the bed, how close she had been. In those moments when she had lain in his forelegs, the reach of their bodies touching to one another— those had been the great reward for him. To feel her so safe with him, knowing that tucked into the crux of his body she had been secure and content.

That was all he wanted from her, that she let him wash the concerns out of her, fill her life with happiness, shelter… love.

That was fading away. He was losing that.

It should have been cathartic for her; it should have been liberating to let him know who his opponent was in the long game she had been playing.

It had not been.

Instead it had been as though her fears were now alive. Her grim vision of this competition between her father and her lover now hovered over her in a thick viscous cloud.

He shuddered to think of how strong it must have been within her this whole time, how often she must have reflected upon images of him suffering under the rage of Quarry. He wished that she had told him sooner, thought that perhaps he had not seemed strong enough…

He was strong. He might not seem it, but he knew his strength. He knew he was strong. It was not a physical strength… but he was strong. He had essentially raised himself, in some senses even kept his mother alive as she had faltered and failed at her attempts to fill the void within her.

He was strong.

He ran his hoof over the side of the bed, knew that no matter how strong he was, it was not going to help.

He would lose her if this continued. Their love was strong, but it would be smothered under her fear, the pervasive fear that even his freely given kisses and his embraces could not lift.

He stood, sighed once more. Before him the damnable letter still lay on the floor where she had dropped it two weeks ago. He looked over it. Quarry's signature now stood upon their relationship like the dead albatross hung around the neck of the condemned mariner. He sighed again and went down the stairs.

He reached for the "Back in an Hour" sign, but the instant he put his hoof upon it, he was caught up in a remembrance.

He looked upon Ivory, sitting there in the sun in front of the window as she spoke with him… told him some of the truths of "The Game of This." In that moment he remembered what she had told him, a promise he had made not to reveal Ivory's entreat to Cupcake.

"To win the game, Carrot," she had said, "all you have to do is be yourself. You're set up to win, everyone in this town desperately wants you to win, I want you to win… Cupcake needs you to win."

Carrot gasped at his own memory, realized how right Ivory had been. As his recollection rolled around, his mouth moved in concert with Ivory's. He remembered her words, only then beginning to truly understand what she had been saying.

"Do not tell Cupcake I said this under any circumstances," she had spoken, Carrot mimicking her forcible, earnest tone. "You do not always have to wait for permission. At times, it could even be fatal. The time will come when to win 'This,' as you call it, you may have to let your love guide you."

As he remembered Ivory's hug, the want and wish she had conveyed for her best friend settled through him. With that, a thought went through Carrot.

He could not always be the pawn, the piece being moved. He would have to make a move, have to be the one to advance the action of the game.

Their relationship could not survive long if she was so worried. She could not endure the façade that she had built. She did not want to keep up the farce, and he knew she would be crushed under it. The longer a lie is drawn out, the worse it becomes, and two years of this would wound her…

His mother's words shot through him, the warning she had given Cupcake as he had hidden in the doorway. Love could be drowned, lost.

No, he would not allow it.

He would risk all on a throw of the dice, make a surprise move. He would save her from her worry, if not through his quiet embrace and soft touch then through the shouts and rage of her father.

He would risk all they had built on a single throw... risk letting it all come crashing down.

Carrot scampered up the stairs, grabbed up the letter, and once more pelted down them. Quickly he turned the sign to "Closed" and threw the door open.

For some reason, he decided on a bathroom break, which would prove fortuitous.

Before stepping out into the afternoon, he turned and looked back over his bakery. Strings of causality leaped out and lay before him in loose tangles, any one of them being the endpoint of what he was now undertaking.

Some ended with him returning to this place a broken, weeping, bleeding mess.

Some ended with her mad at him, begging him to tell her why he had done it, wondering how they could go on with her father mad at them both.

Some ended with him hobbling around this bakery years from this day, leaning upon a cane.

One alone ended with him never returning, ended with shocked whispers outside the door invoking an unspeakable crime.

Yet some ended with him looking into the rosy eyes, feeling her soft kisses planted upon him as her hooves lay across his back. He felt the tender nibble upon his ear and the sound of her giggles echoing around the bakery.

With that vision upon him, he leapt out into the early afternoon.

Quarry was working the garden patch, trying to get the good earth to accept his offerings of the old eggshells. Plants need calcium, or so he was told.

Being as he was an earth pony, Quarry dug deeper, trying to call upon the magic that had served him in business, anchoring him both in times of thought and in times when he was without the calmness that now supposedly floated over him.

Supposedly. In reality, all he really felt was an intense dislike for eggshells.

He was an earth pony. He called upon that connection now, asked the magic to flow through him to the earth, and through the earth to him in return.

As he worked through the garden patch, he simply felt himself digging deeper, feeling him muscles working as his strength played out through the soil.

The garden had been suggested by Ledger and encouraged by Wishing Well. It was an attempt to help him find something to help deal with the wrath that he knew was too far inside him to truly ever be removed.

Instead of the calm that they had assured him would follow when he had begun this project, all he really felt was a bizarre sort of self-consciousness, an embarrassment that came from nowhere as he realized that he had spent nearly an hour in the hot spring sun digging a trench about four feet deep and six long to bury about four eggs' worth of crushed shells.

"Good-good afternoon," came a small voice, one that was familiar and instantly grating. "Go-Good afternoon, Mister Quarry, sir," it rose again. With a sigh, Quarry turned to face the gate.

The face of the Cake colt stood there staring over the fence. Quarry studied the colt for a second. As he did, he saw Cake lift the little paper hat, one he assumed he only wore around his own bakery.

"Cake," he answered, using his rear hoof to move the big metal watering can behind the pile of dirt. His gaze fell over the colt once more, and Cake lowered his hat as he withered.

Quarry walked down to the gate, his dirty hooves thudding across the path. Quarry looked over the gate and down at Carrot as the smaller stallion tried to smile back.

"Ain't never seen you up this end of the city before," spoke Quarry, looking past Carrot.

"No, sir," said Carrot as he gulped a little, "I've only come as-as far as the lamppost, as far as the lamppost or so… don't want to risk you seeing, I mean I don't want to disturb… you, you too much."

Quarry's eyes fell back down on the colt, his grey eyes meeting the green of the colt in an impassive glance.

"What do you want, Cake?" he said in a small breath that washed over Carrot, filling his nose.

"I-I've got, got to ask a favor," said Carrot, knowing right away it was the wrong word to chose. Carrot sensed right away that for this stallion favors were for friends. Business only meant deals, contracts, and backstabbing.

"Or, actually, sir-sir I need your permission for, for something important," said Carrot as he quickly rephrased his words and the grey eyes narrowed upon him.

Rather than continue under the threat of those eyes, Carrot pulled the letter out from under his hat. He held it up in his mouth so that Quarry could see what the conversation was going to be about.

Quarry closed his eyes and gave a sneer. To Carrot's surprise, he turned and walked a few paces back towards what looked like either a garden or a construction project and pawed at the earth.

"I don't talk about business at mah' home, Cake," Quarry said as he looked deep into the watering can. He realized he had forgotten to bring any water. As the Cake colt continued, he put aside that insight as his teeth began to grate.

"I-I'm sor-sorry, sir, but it's really-really important, you see… I-I'd like for you to continue with my loan. I'd-I'd like you to keep it instead of sell it to the new company," Carrot called, having to lift his voice slightly to reach Quarry where he now stood, the tan coat of the older stallion standing out in contrast to the black of the turned earth.

"And why would you want a fool thing like that, Cake?" called Quarry, making a single agitated stomp that left a deep print upon the pile of dirt. "Says right there on the letter why it'd be better for ya' to go with them slick colts…"

"Yessir," answered Carrot, lifting the cap again and placing the letter beneath, "b-but, it's kinda important to me that-that you… that you know I'm res-responsible. It's kind… it's really important to me that you, that you know I keep my promises and that I-I take care of what's important to us both…"

Carrot stopped as he saw Quarry stomp again and turn down the path back to the gate as his newly blackened hooves sounded out loudly.

"Dammit, Cake!" called Quarry. He had always doubted the colt's business savvy, but this was simply too much. Now he would want to go on and explain about how he wanted Quarry's trust for this or that and soon they would be discussing chain stores or "Carrot Cake World Outlet" or some fool notion. It was all the same. They were all the same. He was not going to deal with it… he was gardening.

"You ain't makin' a lick of sense!" he told the colt with his voice just on the safe side of a shout. "If ya' stick with me that'll cost me 'bout four hundred fifty bits! You'll cost yerself more in the end and I ain't goin' tah' listen to no excuses when that bakery of yours goes under 'cause you ain't got no horse-sense!"

Quarry turned and looked back to his garden. As he heard Cake stuttering, he looked at the trench he had dug for the four eggshells. As Cake begun to speak again, Quarry found himself picturing burying something slightly more amber-colored and under-bitten in his garden. He was able to get beyond the image, barely, by the time Carrot spoke again.

"I-I'm not going, not going to fail," he said, sounding ever so slightly more confident then he had before. "I've got a partner who, who is smart… we're-we're going to make it. All I'm asking is that, is that you let me prove myself to you…"

Carrot looked up to see Quarry already back at the gate and breathing heavily as his grey eyes once more fell over him. "Cake," spoke the stallion in a disparaging hiss, "this is the last time I'm gonna tell ya', I don't talk 'bout business at my home! Get back to yer' partner… I'm gardening. Once you've actually learned what 'interest' means we'll take about it. Ya' got a smart partner? Thank Celestia fer' that! Have him explain it to ya', I've got bean plants…"

"Her, sir," added Carrot. "My partner is a mare, the most marvelous one I've ever known."

Quarry missed a step. As he recovered, he smirked to himself. In the six months since he had presented the loan to this colt that was the first line he had not stuttered through. It seems he had hit upon a nerve with Cake.

Quarry turned, his smirk still hanging on his face.

"Well, don't that beat all!" said Quarry in an accusing tone. "Cake's got some baking goin' on in his kitchen! You butterin' up some hot buns, Cake? You too worried 'bout spreadin' yer' frostin' to manage yer' business?"

Quarry smiled a harsh smile, happy to see the colt recoil if it meant he would soon be off. It was always amazing to Quarry that a businesspony who was mixing business and pleasure would flinch when faced with the truth. Quarry wondered if the mare was married… that would be a scandal.

"I wish you hadn't said that, sir," said Carrot with his head still turned and his eyes closed, his head hanging towards the sidewalk. "I really wish that you hadn't said that, Mister Quarry."

Quarry lifted his head. Cake was suddenly not stuttering. Suddenly he seemed almost… offended? Hurt? Defensive? Interesting. Quarry tested the waters, wanted to see how far he could push the colt before he would finally pelt off and give up on trying to fish whatever Cake wanted out of him.

"What's the matter, colt?" laughed Quarry. "You ain't got no trouble comin' around to my house to ask me about business, but when I want tah' know about what yer' mixing up with that mare you…"

"Cupcake."

The name fell out of Carrot. It hung around the fence posts before tipping over and crashing around Quarry's hooves. The name splintered around them into as many pieces as the eggshells that sat nearby.

Carrot opened his eyes and looked up to see a shaking, trembling Quarry. The stallion's mouth hung open and his teeth strained the air as hissing breaths fell between them.

He did not look to the stallion's eyes.

"Cupcake," he said as he closed his eyes, picturing her in his head, "your daughter Cupcake is my partner, sir. We've been working together since we opened the bakery… since before that, even. She was with me when I first set hoof inside, went with me when I went to sign the papers… but, but she's…. she's far more important to me than that. Far more important, sir. We've… we've been seeing each other for almost a year, since before you first met me at the mill… we're dating, sir, close… intimate…"

Carrot opened his eyes. As he looked upon Quarry, he was reminded of something extraordinary he had once seen, something that had stuck inside him since the day he had witnessed it.

One day at the mill, the entire staff had been drawn together on the first floor to witness a test. As Trammel dropped a sandbag, the primary safety mechanism of the mill sprang to life.

The device was simple, and it needed to be. If a life was in danger, a colt or filly being pulled through the machines, then the device was all that could possibly save their life.

As the bag dropped, it pulled brakes into place, and throughout the mill belts came loose, some flopping horribly and all raising a cacophony. Wheels dropped from their active positions into their safety modes, sending a rattling clanging through the mill that bounced off the walls and made the ponies cover their ears.

Outside, the mill wheel came to a resolute and immediate halt. As it did, the water within it splashed about in a white torrent and went streaming along the side of the mill as the power of the river now splashed against the building, the thrum of it reaching them even through the thick wall of bricks.

If Carrot thought that such a horrific collection of sights and sounds could be captured in a facial expression, then the one Quarry now wore represented it fully.

"I want you to keep my loan, so-so I can prove that I can take care…" began Carrot.

He was very quickly made to stop.

Before he could even understand what had happened he felt himself fighting for breath. Beneath him cold stones reached up into his chest and at once a stinging began.

Looking to his chest, abdomen, and legs he saw many tiny scratches. The raw spots soon erupted to blood that shone through his coat in long lines. Carrot felt something on him. As he looked beneath his forelegs, he saw black dirt clinging to his coat as well.

Quarry. Quarry had pulled him over the gate, had bodily lifted him along its surface and had dropped him to the stones in one raging bellow.

Carrot regained his senses just as the vehemence of Quarry's wrath began to settle over him. In the space of seconds, all of the horrors that had shot through his mind since that first day at the mill when he had seen the stallion use his rage now descended upon him.

He tried to go limp.

"You son of a bitch!" called Quarry as he knocked the paper hat from Carrot's head, sending it and the letter tumbling across the yard. "You son of a bitch! You're no different than any of them! No buckin' different than any of the slimy colts, weaslin' into our lives! Just another bastard who is using mah' Cupcake to try to get to me! Comin' around here now acting all sincere…"

"No, sir, please…" began Carrot, trying to make for his hooves. No sooner had he found his way to his hooves then there came another roar.

Carrot felt himself slam against the gate, heard the long thick metal bars bounce and clang in response to his body being driven against them. He felt himself thrown against them once again as Quarry's voice began to rise higher.

Carrot's head went back as he felt himself shoved upon the gates once more, the force of Quarry's shoves lifting him off his hooves, his head bouncing off the bars with a metallic clang.

Carrot fought for a breath as the stars passed through his vision and he tried to steady himself. It was to no avail. Quarry was upon him, driving him up the path.

"You buckin' piece of crap! What did you tell her? What did ya' do to get away with it?! She knows! She knows all about yer' type! She's had to fight off goat lickers like you fer' years!" spat Quarry. "What'd a mess like you tell her that got to her?! What did you tell her?! What lies did ya' whisper in my Little Cupcake's ears?! How'd a under-bitin', stutterin' prick like you…"

Carrot fell to his knees, hitting his jaw against the stones. He called out in pain, did not know if he had fallen or been kicked. Soon he felt himself being dragged to his hooves.

At once he was amid the turned soil of the nascent garden, trying to stay on his hooves as Quarry raged above him. The stallion was ranting and raging. Inside Carrot a thousand different voices called for him to run, to flee for safety.

One voice stood firm though, told him that this was his stand. It spoke to him calmly as the immense stallion pelted him with his fury and leveled accusations against him.

"You ain't no different after all, no different than any of 'em! I told Paperclip so! Comin' to mah' office with yer' bakin', trying to turn her against me too! You udder sucker! Ya' sheep bucker! Can't expect no better from somepony wearin' a bow tie!"

Quarry lifted Carrot by the cravat and looked down at the colt who he held there, watching as Carrot gasped for breath. "No business sense, no sense in clothes! Goes hoof in hoof, eh, ya' little piece of crap?!"

"Cupcake gave it to me, Hearth's Warming…" he choked, reaching his hooves up to gain leverage across Quarry's as the large stallion pulled at the cravat.

Quarry's mouth came open. He stood aghast and then rolled around. With a single snarl he lifted Carrot again, shook him again and again and again as he hung from his hooves and then dropped the smaller stallion among the dirt of the garden.

"Ain't that somethin, that's a damn fine bit of gardening ain't it? Ain't it! You son of a bitch! How do you think she's gonna like hearin' you came round today askin' for favors, tryin' to use her tah' get somethin' out of me?!"

The dirt clung to Carrot as he tried to lift himself. Instead he felt Quarry's legs sweep beneath his. With a tumble he landed in the trench that Quarry had dug.

"You little bastard! You piece of crap! You leave mah' daughter alone! You leave mah' family alone!"

Quarry stood over him, raging at him once more. He tried to look up, but as he tried to blink the dirt out of his eyes the afternoon sun fell over him and cast Quarry in outline as the foam and spit of his continued anger dropped across Carrot.

"Huh, colt?" he asked as his voice went high. "Where's yer' words now, huh? Ya' wanna stutter yer' way through some explanation now?"

"Please!" Carrot cried. "I'm not like them! I love her! Please, I don't want anything from your family, I just want to…"

"Leave. My. Family. Alone!" brayed Quarry, kicking dirt across Carrot. "Leave us alone!" he called again as he reached for something bulky that stood nearby.

Twice, three, four times something large and metallic bounced off Carrot's head as he tried to turn away. Three, four, five times Quarry banged it off of Carrot's nose, calling out in hissing screams until the blood began to pour.

The colt tried to raise his forelegs to defend himself, but a cursing Quarry held them down with his massive frame. In an instant a rain of eggshells fell over Carrot as he lay in the trench. Finally the watering can itself bounced off of his stomach, driving the air from him.

Quarry lifted himself from the trench and looked back down over the heaving, filthy form of Carrot below.

"You think we're done, Cake?" he hissed, "You ain't even felt a touch o' what I do to most who try to use my family against me, try to hurt mah' family…"

"Please…" came a small voice from the trench.

"… I'm goin' up to the house," spat a sweating, heaving, shaking Quarry, "and there I'm getting' a drink. Then I'm getting' my whip. If yer' still here when I come out…"

With that he trotted up the path, knowing it needless to continue. Cake would run off like the rest. He was nothing special.

So, Cake had been just like them all after all. Scheming, devious bastard. He had kept Cupcake under his spell for a year? That was a sin, a proper sin, and when he told her, she would be hurt. She would be hurt real bad. Mother would hold her, and in time she would heal. In time there would be a colt for her… not one who thought of money, of using her. That hurt him to think about.

As he got his drink, he could not catch his breath. As he sucked down another mug of cold water, he tried to get his heart to stop pounding. He hoped she found the right colt soon, somepony who loved her for who she was, who would never hurt her and who did not want anything from her.

As the ringing in his ears began to fade, he hoped she would do it before he had a stroke or a heart attack.

It was a matter of course, but he grabbed the whip from the closet as he went back outside anyway, just in case the colt was lingering near the gate or was thinking of some explanation. Just like so many others.

"Quarry?" came a still, small voice. He looked around to see Wishing Well in her wheelchair. She looked at him questioningly, looking to where the whip stood in his mouth and then back to his eyes.

He dropped it to his hoof and smiled to her even as more dirt fell from his mane.

"There's a big ole' rat in the garden, Love," he said. With that he lifted the whip once more and headed for the door.

Quarry stretched, felt the sun upon him and took a couple of deep breaths. Gardening had proven quite interesting, even if not entirely relaxing. Still, he had enjoyed pulling the weeds…

His grey eyes settled on the garden. As they did he jumped in surprise.

The Cake colt stood there just beside the garden upon the path. He was dirty, filthy, and bleeding. Even as he stood there the dirt of the garden fell from him, eggshells catching in his mane as he trembled and shook with a palpable fear.

Quarry's jaw slid from side to side as he pondered Carrot. Upon the colt was every discernable mark of fear. The gangly legs shook. From his head to his orange tail, the colt trembled. The teeth inside the underbite chattered, the sound carrying all the way up to the porch. Only a trail of piss running down his leg to complete a scene of abject terror was absent.

Yet, there he stood.

None of the others had been there when he had come back out. Was Cake really that stupid?

Quarry stared out over Carrot, saw the colt's eyes forced shut. As he watched the mouth came open and a familiar phrase came wordlessly from the colt's lips.

"Celestia, help me."

Quarry tilted his head back and forth. He had been about to cry out that the sovereign does not aid liars when a phrase wafted from Cake.

"Cupcake… I'm trying so hard…"

Quarry's jaw shifted back and forth for a few long minutes. With that he gathered up the whip and trotted to where the stallion stood. As he stood before the trembling Carrot Cake, he looked the stallion over, saw how worked over he was. Scrapes, welts, dirt, blood… eggshells.

"You stupid, Cake?" asked Quarry as he wrapped the whip around his foreleg and measured out a good striking length.

"N-Not so m-much, sir," said Carrot, fighting to make the words come.

Quarry shook his head.

"Why in the Well are you still here, Cake? Do you think I'm a liar? Do you think that I won't strip the flesh from yer' hide?!"

"No, sir... I mean yes, sir. I mean, I know you'll do it, sir," said Carrot as he trembled. "Cupcake, Cupcake told me about the other colts…"

"Then, Cake, damn yer' amber hide," said Quarry, fixing Carrot in a gaze so hard and close to the smaller stallion's face that his breath caught in Carrot's nose, "why in the Well are you still here?!"

Quarry stepped back and was amazed to see the trembling, shaking form of Carrot Cake lift itself. He watched as the stallion fought to his full height. Even as the younger stallion shuddered in fear, his green eyes came open and met the grey ones of Quarry.

"Because," came the smaller stallion's voice, fighting past every instinct of self preservation that sat inside him, "because I'm not like them. I love her, sir, I love your daughter… I love Cupcake."

There is no sound in the world of baking like the sound of snapping gingerbread. Carrot thought of that sound as an expression went across Quarry's face that was otherwise unidentifiable.

Quarry's jaw went from side to side as he pondered the younger stallion.

"Please," added Carrot as he stood quivering upon the path, "I'm just, I'm just asking that you believe me, let me prove that…"

Inside Quarry a moment of doubt was replaced by an old instinct. It simply was not possible; there was no way that money and family mixed. He wanted something. He was a convincing liar… that was all.

With that the whip cracked through the air.

Carrot winced and braced himself… and felt nothing.

"I'm telling you for the last time, leave my family alone, Cake!" raged Quarry, gathering the whip back to himself.

"Please," whispered Carrot.

With that the whip lashed out again. This time pain, real and powerful, fell with it as it cracked across Carrot.

Carrot felt the sensation go through him, and at once the sting drove him to his knees. Soon he felt something running down his cheek.

Quarry had been startled, knew that there was something wrong. He had missed. He had only meant one last warning shot to crack above the young stallion. But he had missed, and now he saw the blood trickling down the ear of this odd stallion, the groove where the ear met his head standing wet in the midday sun. He looked upon this stallion who now lay upon his path, not knowing what to do… doubt filling him.

As Quarry looked on, he saw something that sent him reeling back another step. Cake fought to his hooves even as he trembled and drew upon his earth pony magic.

The stallion, Cake, was using his magic, the gift of the earth itself to anchor him there. Cake was using it to give him the strength to face him. Not to launch a futile attack, not flee like all the rest, but simply to stand there.

"Please," asked Carrot as his green eyes flashed open once more, "I love her…I love Cupcake, sir, I love her so much…"

Quarry lifted his hoof. The sound of gingerbread cracking and crumbling sat deep upon his features. Inside Quarry, questions began to arise. What could this stallion want from him, want from his family or Ledger's family, so badly that he was willing to stand there and face his whip?

What could he… Is, is it really possible that he just…

No. No, it isn't. That is not the way the world works.

Quarry lifted the whip again…

"Nooo! No, daddy, nooo!"

The voice lifted to him as a shriek, crossed a thousand miles to reach Quarry as he stood there.

The gate slammed shut, and up the path came his daughter. She pelted to them as the black apron of the catering job trailed out behind her. The eyes of both stallions fell upon her as she stripped herself of it and discarded it as though it were an anchor dragging her down.

"Daddy, no! Daddy not him, please!" she wailed as she leapt at him, literally wrapping herself around his hoof and dragging him down slightly with her weight.

"Cupcake!" he said as he fought to regain himself. "Why didn't ya' tell me!? Why didn't you tell about this?"

"Stop it, stop it daddy!" she said, falling away from him as she tripped over her own hooves. As Quarry watched, her face went wide with fear, sobs beginning to fall from her as she looked upon Carrot. In a second she had gathered up the apron… was holding it to the blood trickling down his face.

Quarry looked on unbelieving as the dark of the apron absorbed the crimson, as she brushed the eggshells from him and said, "Oh Carrot, why did you do this? Oh Carrot!" over and over.

"I'm trying, Cupcake," the lanky stallion whispered in pain, "I'm trying so hard…"

"Cupcake," Quarry said in a demanding tone. "Why didn't ya' tell me that you was workin' with him? He's just come up here and made a fool of himself tryin'…"

"Stop it! Stop it daddy, stop it right now!" she called as she once more trotted over to him, tears falling from her face. "I didn't tell you because I knew you'd do this! That you wouldn't believe him! That you'd hurt him!"

An old fear grew in Quarry, the knowledge that he had given his daughter a reason to fear him raising up in a ball that sat in his throat.

"Daddy!" she said while nuzzling beneath Quarry. "He's not like the rest, daddy! He doesn't want anything from me! He doesn't care that I'm round!"

"You're not round," came the voices of two stallions, one firm, the other trembling. Quarry met the eyes of Carrot. Some foreign feeling was growing in him as the gangly stallion still shook and trembled upon the path.

"Please, daddy, please!" she continued, still running herself alongside her father with her voice still high with worry. "Please, he isn't like the rest…"

"He, he just wants tah' get to me," spoke the firm voice of Quarry, his old instincts and the truths he had learned throughout his hard life rising up while fixing Carrot once more in a harsh gaze, "use you to get to mah' money."

"No! No! No!" Cupcake wailed as she once more forcing herself upon his foreleg, trying to get the whip to drop from where it sat wrapped tight to his hoof. "He didn't know, daddy! He didn't know you're my father! Not until two weeks ago! I-I planned so hard, fought so hard to keep him from finding out! To keep you from finding out! Daddy, daddy everyone has been trying so hard… but, but I didn't know about the loan! Daddy, it's my fault, please… please stop hurting him!"

"Cupcake," came the voice of Carrot, and it stuck in Quarry's ears. It was high with worry and concern. The smaller stallion was worried for her… anxious for her.

The sounds of ancient assumptions and scarred beliefs tensing and beginning to falter sounded out through Quarry. At once the old ways rose up and attempted to defend his unhappy view of this world.

"You, you mean you got the whole town, everypony to… to lie to me?" spoke Quarry as his perceptions grew wild. "To hide this from me?"

"Yes!" she called, pushing once more beneath him. Finding her father's nuzzle absent her voice began going higher.

She had lied to him, or at the very least hidden the truth. That was the bond that held Quarry's world together… that was the most important thing. As Quarry listened, she rattled off the names of ponies he trusted, friends who he relied on.

They had all been playing a game, a game whose purpose was to keep him in shadow. A game whose purpose was to let this stallion get closer and closer to his daughter…

… didn't they all understand? Didn't they all see?

Unless…

"Cupcake, Cupcake why would you do this tah' me, to our family?" he said as his voice beginning to fade.

"Because I love him! I love him daddy, I love him more than any other stallion I've ever met!" she wailed. "He's kind and gentle and when I'm near him nothing hurts…"

His eyes lifted once more to Carrot Cake, saw that the stallion had his hoof raised as though right now he were calling to her. It was as though he wanted to draw out her pain as she circled her father, wanted to silence her fear.

He was afraid for her. Carrot was upset by her fear…more afraid for her than he was afraid of Quarry himself. Quarry's jaw shifted back and forth as he looked upon it.

Carrot felt Quarry's stare upon him. He looked to the deep grey of the anger-filled eyes. He found them easier to look within, as though something was fighting there… the hunted look being pressed.

"Please, sir," said Carrot as some of the dirt fell from him, "I love her, I love her more than anything in the world…"

"Quarry! Quarry, no!" came a new voice, one that ripped Quarry's world out from under him. He turned and let the whip go limp as the figure of Wishing Well floated down the path, free from her wheelchair and making small delicate steps.

"Momma! Oh, momma it's Carrot! Daddy's killing him!" came the voice of Cupcake, terribly high with worry, "Oh, momma! Momma, help me!"

Quarry stumbled. His body shook. Wishing Well had known… she knew, knew about this all along. She too had lied, the most important pony in his life had… no, no he would not believe it. There must be another explanation.

He reached for Wishing Well and tried to gather her up. To his surprise she refused his aid. Instead she joined in Cupcake's exhortations. To his utter shock she too began to demand that he listen, tried to make her massive husband listen to the dirty, disheveled, bleeding, trembling stallion that stood nearby.

"Cake," he said as he spun to Carrot, his anger seeming to be fading, "leave, now, before I do something in front of mah' family that I'll never forgive…"

"No," said Carrot as dirt fell through his mane. "No, sir, I can't. Not until you know how… know how much I love her."

Being Quarry means that as two of the mares you love most in the world circle you, this stranger, this interloper, tells you how much he loves your daughter.

Being Quarry means that even as everything you have learned rages at you and demands acts of wrath, you can't move. It means that all the lessons you have learned in your hard life tell you to break him, snap him, that he is a liar… but that the ones you love the most demand you listen.

Being Quarry means that as he speaks about her, you watch his expression go soft. You listen as the thudding slows behind your ears, as he describes how much he adores her… loves her.

"I-I understand, sir," Carrot said as he looked into the fading expression of the massive stallion, "I understand why you feel the way you do… I, I never had a father, he-he died just before I was born…"

Being Quarry means that he understands what it is like feeling that you need to protect something dear to you, how powerless you feel when you cannot.

Being Quarry means that you can see the earth pony magic growing in him as he speaks of your daughter in tones that you thought that only you could. As he says that he only wants to see her happy, to see her smiling, it begins to rip away at everything you believe about your world.

"Hey!" called more familiar voices. At once the grandchildren were coming up the path. "Hey Mister Carrot! Were you playing in the garden? You're all dirty! Is that grandpa's whip? Was he showing you tricks?"

Being Quarry means that as your eldest daughter Ruby Quartz comes up the path, you see realization flash across her face as well. Soon she too leans in to keep your wrath from growing… and you know that she too is aware of the game, that she too fears you.

Being Quarry means that as dozens of your worst fears are coming to pass, you cannot call on your familiar rage, your old anger. It means that for the first time in forty-two years of relying on your brutality, you are defenseless.

Being Quarry means that as your daughters continue to circle you and beg for your understanding, the monster who is destroying everything you have worked for across the long decades of your life makes excuses on your behalf to your grandchildren.

"Oh, yes!" said Carrot as he tried to hide the blood trickling from above his ear, his nose, and his long scrapes. "We just got playing too hard is all!"

"The name of your bakery is still stinko!" called the little colt.

"Errr… yeah," answered Carrot as his face twisted in suspicion. "Hey," he said, "why don't you guys get your school stuff off and… and, if your grandma and grandpa say it's okay we can play in the garden too."

Being Quarry means that Cupcake leaves your side and stands by Cake as the foals gather around them. With small cheers the foals pelt past you into the house, the fortress you had built for the protection of your family.

Being Quarry means that you now can only beg, that is all you have left.

"Please, Cake, please," Quarry said while his voice broke, "please just go…"

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, sir," said the gangly stallion as he turned and lifted his foreleg as he had done for Cupcake, "I can't, I just want… I just want to prove to you that I love her. I just want a chance to earn your respect…"

Being Quarry means that the word flies through you, respect, that one word that is all that you have been chasing all your life.

Being Quarry means having to realize that, as Cupcake nuzzles beneath him and shows him her affection, that Cake respects you… respects what you would do for your family.

Being Quarry means that he thinks enough of you that your respect matters.

Quarry lifted his head, saw that the tears that Cupcake had hidden from her nieces and nephew were flowing again, saw Cake drawing his head alongside hers and trying to draw out her pain.

"She's my Little Cupcake. My Little Cupcake," came Quarry's voice, as weak and as withdrawn as any who stood there in the spring afternoon had ever heard it.

"I'd never hurt her, sir," said Carrot as he nuzzled her and lifted his eyes to Quarry. "Sir, I swear, I swear I'd never hurt her…"

Being Quarry means that the gangly stallion had just shorn off all of your perceptions. Cake had just cracked open all of your fears and doubts with sledgehammer blows.

Around you, the fortress you had built was torn away as though he had lifted every board out of the house, as though he had stolen every stone out of the wall you had laid.

Being Quarry means that your head drops under the sincere stare of the gangly stallion. It drops so low that Wishing Well and Rose Quarts give a small cry and attempt to nuzzle you, fearing for you.

Being Quarry means that you surrender, that you give up your rage, your anger… and allow this amber coated stallion into your life. Despite the warnings that still call out within yourself, you greet him in for the sake of your Little Cupcake.

So ended the first round of "The Game of This."

With a massive sigh, Quarry lifted his head once more, felt Wishing Well brushing against him and attempting to lend him her strength. The frail mare stopped and looked up to him with a smile. "It will be alright, my Love," she said, nuzzling her weak frame to him once more, "it will be alright."

Quarry looked at Cake. He was a bleeding, dirty mess.

"Alright, Cake," he said, something of the rumbling voice returning, "let's get ya' up to the house… clean ya' off. We'll have ourselves a talk."

With that he turned and helped Wishing Well back to the house.

Behind him came the happy squeals of his youngest daughter. He could hear their two bodies fall into the garden as she pounced upon him, hear her laughter as their noses touched together for the first time in complete freedom.

Together they stood. As Wishing Well and Quarry turned to watch, something unusual happened. Carrot looked down and seemed to find one of Cupcake's hoofprints in the soft, black earth.

He pressed his hoof next to her imprint, leaving the two prints standing side by side in the warm soil. Soon she had drawn a heart around both.

It was hard for the old stallion to admit, but it made him happy to see it.

Cup Cake returned to the kitchen in anticipation of an unfolding disaster.

What she discovered there was nothing short of a miracle. As she approached, he began to insert the gift within, began to raise it up on a new foundation, a strong one built of the old interlaced with many shards of what she had thought she would soon be throwing away.

As Carrot lifted the piece into place, Cup Cake took the confectioner's tube and spread a new batch of the thickest frosting around until the foundation was once more in place.

Together they once more stood there, hoof in hoof, as the gingerbread house healed itself.

As she looked up to him, she knew he had made a decision, and that he knew to move when she could not, feared to. She knew that he trusted her to do the same.

It took a lot of her willpower to keep from reaching across the house, to keep from placing her lips to his nose and slowly lick away the frosting that still stood there. Another part of her told him that it was not yet time for such things.

So, as the foundation set, they simply stared to one another, happy in the presence of the other.

As her train pulled into Ponyville station Ivory Script was presented with an extraordinary scene.

True, the banner was magnificent, and the small band that played her favored songs was so very appreciated. These were very much welcomed, as welcomed as the hug of her parents that she fell into as she leapt from the train.

But it was the sight of Carrot and Cupcake standing together, leaning into one another as Quarry stood nearby, that was what made her the happiest.

They had done it, and as she reached for Cupcake, the two spun around happily, each crying and glad for the other.

The party was held at Ledger's mansion, a massive celebration marking the return of his daughter.

Though Canapés was the caterer, it had been made very clear that Cupcake was there as a guest. She was soon to finish the season as a caterer, to leave Canapés who had supported her and return to the bakery alone.

In the weeks that followed, she had been opening more, and Carrot stood in awe of her flowering love.

As the night fell, the lanterns came alight, though not nearly soon enough to keep Carrot from tripping in the darkness and landing in the fountain whose warm waters kept the heat of the day within them long into the night.

He had tried to stand up, but as he had he had felt the touch of her hooves upon his chest. Oddly, he felt her ask for him to remain lying in those waters.

Soon Cupcake was in the water too, sitting above Carrot and looking down over him. As the lanterns came alight, he saw her sparkling in their light, saw the light catch in the waters of the fountain as it trickled around them.

She looked down over him with a blissful gaze and ran her hoof through his mane. With that she lifted her hooves, used them to catch up channels of water in the space between them and then poured them over him.

At first, Carrot had been a little perturbed, but soon he realized what was happening, what she was expressing without words.

She was using the waters to show him her feelings. She was letting the waters that made up her emotions, feelings, and thoughts cascade over him. She was showing him what her love would be like, how he could expect to feel it as she opened up more and more as she grew into her newfound freedom from worry.

The Well of Souls, it is said, is like swimming without being tired. It is as though you were awash in love itself, as though love were waters that surround you and fill you. Waters that you yourself spread through.

As the waters of the fountain splashed around them, she leaned down, drew the water through his mane and across his chest, and then asked for his touch. Soon she asked for his kiss, and with that he answered.

For Carrot, suddenly he understood what the Well meant, wondered if it were even possible to be happier than he was in this moment. For Cupcake the same question lingered as his warmth reached her.

As they painted that scene together in the fountain, their love blossomed as never before, and a breeze caught around them.

"My children," came a voice unheard on that floated upon the breeze, "I am so very happy for you, so very happy!"

"Keep this time, let your love grow," it continued, making the lanterns dance slightly around them, "but know that this is not the end… the game goes on, I'm afraid. The game is not yet over, and there are new players taking the field."

The breeze swirled as they lifted their heads and stared down at one another with tenderness flying between them. The breeze continued speaking in an unheard tone. "I am sorry, but it does. Soon, soon you will find that the world is not what you expect of it… and there will be pain, it will hurt. I am so sorry, but it must be that way… for her, for her to be who she must be. For you to become what you need to be, this is the way it must unfold. But, you will be rewarded, I swear it… just trust to your love, to one another."

The breeze held still and hovered among the lanterns. With that Cupcake lowered herself to him once more. With a divine giggle, the breeze sped off over the grassy fields where fireflies once more lit the world with trails of light.

Take a Letter

Chapter 11: Take a Letter

When constructing a gingerbread house, most proficient bakery artisans like our Cakes suggest the following piece of advice.

"Remember that how you decorate the exterior of the house is as important as how well you build the interior."

It seems like an extraordinary thing to say. It seems to contradict all that we have learned in our lives about valuing what is within more than the superficial things on top.

That however makes the assumption that the decorations upon a gingerbread house are merely paltry additions. That assumes that they do not truly matter.

That is incorrect.

The decorations upon a gingerbread house tell us about what it is, how much care is put into it. Like a relationship, it must be adorned and allowed to grow… or it will just sit empty and flake away under the sun.

It would have been nice say that this thought was on Cup Cake's mind as she worked to prepare the surface of the gingerbread house for decoration, as she and Carrot got ready to adorn it with treats and sweets.

Instead all that was really on her mind was the single dollop of frosting that sat upon his nose…

… and how very much she would like to leap across the table and lick it off of him with long, slow movements.

Still, something inside her told her to desist. So, as they worked the house she simply stood there with the tube in her mouth, smiling a wicked smile and pondering how she was eventually going to get it off of him.

She would have to because, she knew, he would not remove it himself. He would not remove it because she had laid it there as a sign of her affection. He was content to let it sit there until the waters of the Well washed it from him, if need be.

The blindfold was probably unnecessary for a taste-test, but as she wrapped it around his eyes and gave it a small tug with her teeth, he most certainly did not mind.

Under his tutelage, Cupcake was becoming more and more proficient as a baker. As their second spring together went on and on, it quickly became an amazing time, time for them to both firmly settle into the roles of "my other." As they had worked together, she had grown and learned. Watching her take on these new responsibilities and witnessing her working towards being a bigger part of the bakery had made Carrot very happy.

She had been a good baker to begin with, but as he taught her everything he knew, she had only grown. Though it was clear that he would still be the primary baker, knowing that she was there to aid him gave him strength.

Around him his bakery had come alive, filled with the touch of a mare who no longer felt the need to hide. Soon it was vibrant and welling with color.

The name was still pretty bad though.

He grimaced as he thought about that. He would need a new name soon, but the thought disappeared as her hoof dropped from his and the scent of many wonderful things caught in his nose. He lifted his hoof and immediately winced as it banged against the countertop.

"Oh, sorry!" she said, running her foreleg against where he had bumped it. "Here, let me get them for you…."

He sensed her near and knew that she had grabbed up one of the treats she had made. She was now nearby, holding it to him in her mouth.

He leaned to her and took a bite.

"Oh, apple strudel!" he said, instantly able to guess what she had made.

Her little laughs showed that he had been correct. Her hoof was to his again, and she led him to the next tray. With that, he took a bite of her next creation, quickly guessing it as she looked on.

"Ah, an éclair!" he answered, her giggles and the touch of her cheek being his reward.

So down the countertop they moved, Cupcake becoming confident as they went, Carrot more proud and happy for her. A dozen treats and pastries of all varieties had been laid there. Her growing talents had made each easily identifiable.

All too soon the last treat was reached. "Well," she said with a little sigh, "that's the end of that then…"

Inside an instant she felt the familiar touch of his lips to hers. It was welcomed, but not expected… and as he raised his head the blindfold still covered his eyes. He appeared to be pondering.

"Hmmm… sugar plum," he said before lowering his head again. Her smile grew as he touched his lips to hers once more, held them there as her taste flowed to him.

"Aha! Ginger snap…" he said without raising his head from her, moving down her neck and then planting a kiss along it as he slowly lifted his head. She leaned into it, chuckled as she realized the purpose of his game.

Once more he met her lips, let them remain there for a long moment, and then once more moved down her neck, let a trail of kisses remain behind.

"Honey bun…" he whispered into her ear as he moved to her other side, as she felt the soft, wet, warm pat of his lips across her cheek, neck, and chest.

As happy sounds began to lift from the kitchen, an older stallion in a crumpled stood by the cash register in the bakery showroom.

He realized that his entrance had somehow gone unnoticed. Feeling a little agitated that he had been left standing there, he went to where the sounds emanated to seek the shopkeepers.

Upon witnessing the pleasant scene that was developing within the kitchen, he quickly turned around, once more thankfully unnoticed, and made for the register.

There he left what he assumed was the proper price for his pie and a touch more, just to be safe. The blushing stallion then walked away as quietly as he could as the sounds that lifted from the kitchen became rather more immodest in nature.

As he left with his pie he did the two young ponies the favor of turning the sign upon the door to "Closed."

The old pony stared at the sign above the door, the one that read "Carrot Cake's Bakery Co., L.L.C., Inc." Having met the pair long before and in scenes less compromising, he wondered when the lanky stallion was going to add her to the sign. Only seemed proper, he thought at he went out into the street, what with how well the two fit together like that…

Although Carrot's thoughts were elsewhere at that moment, it would have made the old pony happy to know that Carrot had been thinking along very similar lines.

Thin, Fat, and Angry.

Quarry preferred the names that he had given the three colts, and inside his thoughts he addressed them as such.

A month and those many weeks had passed since the last time these three sat before him. Much had changed in the world of old stallion since they had visited the office, since they had made the proposal.

In that time, Quarry had been able to ponder a great many things. As he had, a lot of what he believed about the way the world worked had been called into question.

"So," he had said while looking them all over, each seeing that the finest of edges had come off of his sharp stare. "Most all of 'em chose to take ya' up on your offer. They're all yours… apart from this one."

Carrot Cake's Bakery Co., L.L.C., Inc.

The three colts looked the name over and then peered at one another with some small surprise. They could not imagine the circumstances that would make any pony want to stay with Quarry but, well, there it was in black and white. "Offer refused with thanks."

It simply added to the awkwardness that hung around the room, the presence of a fifth pony making things in the small room seem thick with breath and moisture.

"Well," laughed the thin colt as he tried to force some conversation into the room. "Can't say that I think much of the business sense of that one, eh?"

"Nothing wrong with him," breathed Quarry, drawing all of the oxygen out of the room as his voice rumbled around the walls.

Silence hung there for a moment, and the colts all looked at one another and wondered who would be the one to mention the obvious. The angry colt volunteered quickly.

"If that's the case," said the angry one with visible malice, "then you owe us a refund on the loan."

"Four hundred sixty seven bits," rolled the voice of Quarry. "Mah' secretary will write ya' a check…"

"Well, we will just be sure that's the correct amount first," said the angry one, eyeing him.

"It's the right amount," answered Quarry, "We had a deal."

"Well, we'd like to be… accurate," answered the angry colt. His smile grew as he got in his one chance to level his eyes upon Quarry, to have some small satisfaction of knowing he had gotten something out of him.

His smile faded quickly as Quarry stood and glared back down over the colt who suddenly blanched, his partners going ashen as the massive stallion began to swear. Quarry reached for a pile of papers atop the nearby cabinet. He tossed them before the angry colt.

"You callin' me a liar, colt!? It's all right there on the buckin' page, damn your coat! You want to know what a lie is, colt, let me tell about yer' father and…" began a spitting Quarry as his eyes started to go red.

At once the touch of a soft hoof to his drew him down, made him stutter to a stop.

"Dear," said Wishing Well, lifting herself slightly forward in her wheelchair.

Around the small room the five ponies sat in the musty heat of the late spring day as Quarry ran his hoof across his eyes and slowly regained his composure.

A lot had changed in the world of Quarry in those few weeks. Now he felt as though maybe, just maybe, he could escape the wrath… maybe find a way to live that didn't end with him having a stroke or a heart attack.

He looked back up to the colts. He gazed out over the three figures that sat still, each looking up to him. He gently pushed the paper towards the angry colt.

"It's all there on the page," he said while he sat down, taking Wishing Well's hooves in his own. "It's the same rates, same indexes that we talked about more than a month ago… we had a deal, but if you don't trust me, well, take it…"

The angry colt's jaw moved side to side. Quarry remembered himself making the same movements when Carrot had stood before him… the question of trust growing within him.

For the briefest of moments, Quarry wondered if this colt was on the same path he had been, if he had grown up not trusting, if he had grown up being fearful.

That fear dissipated as the colt looked back up to him and raised his hoof.

"No, no sir, we… we trust you," spoke the colt. "That number sounds about right, sounds right."

Quarry stood and leaned across the table. He shook the hoof of the angry colt and saw a look of sublime relief go across the three.

Inside minutes he was showing them to the door, the colts saying their goodbyes to Wishing Well as they raised themselves up from the crowded little office.

As he turned to leave, the angry colt felt Quarry's hoof upon his shoulder. The colt startled, jumped, and turned with the expectation of seeing the wrathful face of Quarry glaring down at him.

Instead he found the older stallion looking to the floor. As Quarry lifted his head he looked to the angry colt with something approaching supplication.

"Would… would you tell yer' father 'Hello' for me?" asked Quarry as he looked to the colt. "And I mean that… cordially, and all."

The angry colt nodded and promised in quiet tones that he would. As he left the office, Quarry closed the door behind him, leaving the angry colt to join his partners.

As the angry colt listened, his partners spoke with the secretary. "Oh, yes," she answered. "He is happier these days, today especially. He brought Wishing Well with him to receive an inquiry…"

The thin one and the fat one did their best to pry, but the third colt… the one who had formerly seemed angry, he simply looked around the room. The light came in through the large window, and the goldfish swam with happy flicks through the bowl.

"He wants me to… to greet dad for him," he whispered to himself, feeling decades of pent-up anger drifting out of him.

"… well, don't tell anyone I said so," said Paperclip, handing them the check and looking back towards the closed door, "but the nicest young stallion asked them both to come here this morning. He brought me a treat as he always does and then asked me to wish him luck."

She grinned a mischievous grin.

"He asked them if they would be alright with him asking their youngest daughter to marry him!" she giggled. "It's a touch old-fashioned, but isn't it just so romantic?"

Carrot Cake stood before the door to the familiar mansion with his saddlebags shifting around him.

As it came open, the figure of the butler, Serving Tray, appeared and blinked in the morning light. As his eyes adjusted, a smile grew on his face, and he recognized the caller.

"Young Mr. Cake, sir, good to see you again," said the butler as he raised his hoof in greeting. Carrot smiled, part of him still at odds with the funny sensation that being called "mister" brought with it.

"It's very nice to see you too, Tray. Would Miss Script be available by any chance?" he asked.

"Certainly, sir," intoned Serving Tray. "If you should like to follow me I shall announce you."

Together they went through the large hallway and public room to a small study. Carrot flipped around the fact he was being called "sir" a few times as proper ponies stared down over him from dark paintings upon the wall. As they approached the study, Serving Tray began to announce him. Before he had a chance, the figure of Ivory was already there at the door.

Serving Tray went off, slightly disappointed at being kept from one of the small duties he enjoyed.

As Ivory gave Carrot a small but welcome hug, the two turned back into the study.

"And what brings you around to my little warren, Carrot?" she asked, clearing space in an overstuffed chair for him.

"If you're not too busy… I mean I'm not interrupting, am I?" said Carrot, looking at the small mountain of papers and the wastebasket full of dulled quills.

"I most certainly am busy," she said with a giggle, "and I am very, very happy you interrupted! What can I do for you?"

Carrot replied to her smile with one of his own. Lowering his saddlebags to the floor, he pulled out some sheets of paper, some crumpled papers, and some wads of paper that went to the floor and bounced around.

"I have this writing project… one that's not going to well, Ivory, and I was hoping that maybe you might… help?" he asked as he watched her reach for some of his abortive attempts.

When she saw what he was attempting to write, she leapt up, ran her eyes across more of the pages.

Carrot had never heard Ivory make noises like that before. As she jumped to him, he caught her up in another hug, this one frenzied and filled with squeals of joy. Almost as though she were embarrassed, she asked to excuse herself, leaving Carrot alone in the room. As she went, she literally skipped like a filly in a schoolyard.

"I… that's a yes, right?" he asked the room in general. Nearby some more of her writing slid off a mountain of books. "Okay, good," he answered himself, smiling as he did so.

Serving Tray had turned back down the hallway, presuming that enough time had elapsed to ask if there were anything that they would like brought to them.

Upon seeing his young mistress standing against the wall with her hooves to her face, he immediately trotted forward in alarm.

"Miss Ivory! Miss Ivory, are you well?" he asked with his concern near the surface.

Ivory lowered her hooves and looked up to him with a massive smile. At the same time great wet tears rolled down her face.

She had done it. They had done it, all three of them. Cupcake was safe, the plan had worked, and now the cementing of that work was playing out before her. Her best friend would be so happy, and she would be so happy for both of them, was already so happy.

"Yes," she said, "I'm quite alright. Everything is wonderful… so, very wonderful! Could you please bring us some ice water, Tray, and perhaps something bubbly as well?"

"Do-do I look all right? Is my mane okay?" asked Cheesecake as she hovered beneath the lamppost.

Carrot had been thinking about the lamppost. For so long this had been the border of his world, how reaching this lamppost might as well have been attaining the edge of the known world.

Today he was bringing his mother to meet two ponies who inhabited a house that he had once only beheld from here, from this distant outpost of his knowledge.

Today, if all went well, he would open a new chapter in the journal of his journey with the mare who now stood with him. Cupcake moved to answer the questions that his mother floated out over them in her ephemeral tones.

"You look wonderful, Cheesecake," answered Cupcake as she ran her hoof over the foreleg of the older mare. "I'm sure momma and daddy and yourself will get along wonderfully, I know it."

"Oh, I-I hope so," said the thin older mare, "I-I don't want to embarrass either of you. Please, tell me if I'm doing something wrong…"

Together the three went up the sidewalk and up to the gate. As they approached the house, Carrot could see the figure of Quarry, as massive and imposing as ever. He stood behind Wishing Well as the mare sat in her wheelchair, the two making a proper portrait of how proper ponies should arrange themselves to meet somepony new.

Carrot heard his mother make a noise. At once he stopped and turned to her. Her ears were back, her hoof once more raised as though in surprise.

"No," she whispered under her breath, her head giving a small shake, "it… it can't be…"

"Mom, what…" he began, reacting to her expressions as they grew on her. His head flew up to the porch, saw Quarry staring on perplexed, saw Wishing Well…

…Cupcake's mother stood.

"Cheesecake?" floated the voice of the frail mare, wafting out and over the lawn and garden.

"Wishing Well?" replied his mother as her ears came fully up.

"Oh, Celestia! Cheesecake… Cheesecake!" called out Wishing Well in the loudest voice Carrot had ever heard her use, the loudest that Cupcake had heard her mother use in years.

As Carrot and Cupcake watched, their mouths hanging open in surprise, Cheesecake took off at a trot. Soon she was galloping, her hooves sounding out in solid thwacks upon the stairs.

Quarry joined the two in looking on aghast as Cheesecake and Wishing Well embraced each other, the two crying out aloud in happiness as big wet tears ran down their faces and their heads were laid upon the withers of the other.

"It's been forever! Oh Cheesy, how I've missed you!" called Wishing Well, her voice already starting to strain under her efforts.

"Wishy Washy, Wishy Washy, twenty five years or more! Oh, Celestia… Wishy Washy!" replied Cheesecake as she rocked the fragile mare gently.

More than twenty years ago, loud words had sounded out in a dance studio that doubled as an apartment that these mares had shared.

Whatever the context of that conversation, whatever had separated them, that flew away as the two stood there in the sunlight of the full spring. As the delicate mare hovered above her wheelchair, her tears washed over the thin, withdrawn mare who cradled her. With that an old friendship was reborn as the sounds of a spring morning sat across the porch.

Inside the house, a small buffet of sorts had been set out. As Carrot grazed over the selection, his eyes kept going to the door.

He listened as the conversation in the great vast living room of the house Quarry had built drew on and on. Soon the familiar sounds of "girl talk" began to lift from within. Soon Quarry joined him, the stallion retreating as a refugee from the presence and persistence of such conversation.

Carrot wished that he had become more comfortable around Quarry, that he could say that he now was within the confidence of the stallion. He could not. There still seemed to be a sort of wall there, one that he was allowed to cross but not without being measured against.

Carrot sighed and looked at the fixings for a dandelion sandwich, wondered if he wanted mustard. As he did he made room for Quarry, the big stallion giving a sigh, apparently distraught at the non-presence of the last few slices of cheese he had wanted.

"You eat the last of the cheese on me, Cake?" asked the stallion with a toss of his head.

"No, sir," said Carrot as he forced a chuckle, "I-I'm pretty sure it was the little colt out there…"

"Meh," answered Quarry, slowly moving away, "I can cut up some more…"

Carrot gave another sigh, knew that there was always going to be a distance between them. Quarry still called him "Cake"… but then again, he couldn't bring himself to call Quarry anything but "sir." There was something that was not clicking between them…

… then again, Quarry had lashed him with a whip. That's usually a stumbling block to any sort of relationship.

Wishing Well liked him well enough. She had patted his foreleg and called him "such a nice colt." That was more than he could have asked for. His eyes went to the door once more.

"You expectin' somepony, Cake?" asked Quarry as he stared at him from the icebox, a large block of cheese in his hoof.

"Yessir," answered Carrot, looking back to the door.

A knock prophetically sounded out from the entryway. Quarry looked down to Carrot and then to the door. With a few large, powerful steps he crossed out of the kitchen and towards the entryway.

He looked up to Carrot and then turned his head. He opened the door.

Quarry blinked in the sun, looked down over the familiar face of Ivory.

"Oh… Oh! Hello there, Miss Ivory, c'mon in," said that stallion, looking to Carrot. Carrot saw the confusion painted on his face, watched Quarry's expressions fly around as he greeted his best friend's daughter.

Soon Ivory turned to him with a sly look upon her face.

"Carrot!" she said, giving him a quick embrace. "Tell me, how did the recipe come out?"

"It mixed together quite well," he answered, watching the smile spreading across her face. "It mixed."

Ivory gave him another quick hug, sliding something among his hooves where his sandwich stood and then was off into the living room, her own saddlebag hanging upon her as her hooves sounded across the wooden floor.

Carrot and Quarry waited until the sounds of introductions had begun to die down before turning towards the living room.

"Cake…" came the rumbling voice.

Carrot looked up to see Quarry looking to him, saw something of an understanding growing in the older stallion. It had been a code… he knew.

Carrot stared back up to him, and to Quarry's surprise, Carrot tried to give him a hug. "Oh, the Well," said Quarry with a sound of exasperation, collecting the smaller stallion for a quick embrace as the knowledge of what was about to happen grew upon him.

With a toss of his head, Quarry nodded and ushered the younger stallion into the living room.

To Carrot's happiness, Cupcake came to sit beside him as soon as he had entered. He laid some of the things he had grabbed from the buffet before her. Four other mares, Cheesecake, Ivory, Ruby Quartz, and Wishing Well, watched Cupcake's nieces and nephew practice lines from a school play.

Carrot lifted his eyes to Ivory, caught hers inside a glance. A slight nod was his reply, and he tried to act casual, sipping at the cup awkwardly as it lay upon the floor.

"Oh, Cuppy," spoke Ivory, "I received a letter for you. It seems it came to me by accident. I brought it with me."

"Huh!" replied Cupcake while she watched her nieces and nephew take a seat. "Imagine that!"

Silence hovered over the room.

"May-may I have it, Ive?" she asked.

"Of course…" replied Ivory, stopping to take a sip of her tea. "I've hidden it somewhere in this room."

"Wh-what?" asked Cupcake as she stood and trotted to where Ivory sat impassively.

"Come on now Ive, why'd you go and do something like that?" she asked, her tone slightly hurt.

"Don't be like that, Cuppy! Come on now, try to find it! Let's play at hot or cold!" giggled Ivory as she stared up at an annoyed Cupcake, the mare pounding one hoof into the floor. She began to criss-cross the room, listening to Ivory for hints.

"No, cold! Even colder, Cuppy! Ah, that way is warm, warmer… now why would you come back this way? You're cold again!" spoke Ivory while Cupcake's nephews and nieces cheered her on. Soon the room was evenly divided between those trying to help her and those laughing at the spectacle.

"Oh! Ivory! You're too cruel!" she said as she stood before the fireplace, her hooves dancing in frustration. "If you're gonna be that way about it you can keep the letter!"

She went back to her pillow in a huff. Cupcake laid down next to Carrot and leaned into him. He laid his head upon her, taking up some of her frustration. He tried to keep from giggling as the game began to come to an end.

"Hot."

"What?" asked Cupcake as she raised her head and looked to Ivory.

"Hot, Cuppy, you're hot… you're almost upon it," answered Ivory with a wide smile.

Cupcake looked to Carrot, a look of bewilderment hanging over her. She stood and pressed her nose to his, the act eliciting a few giggles from her nieces.

"Very hot," answered Ivory from the far side of the room, the other adults going quiet.

Cupcake nuzzled Carrot's foreleg. Before Ivory could even answer, she had moved to his hoof.

"On fire, Cuppy," answered Ivory, her voice going softer, "I'm so happy that you found it… so very happy, Cuppy."

Carrot lifted his hoof and removed the charger from his plate, revealing where Ivory had hidden the letter when they had spoken the passwords in the kitchen.

Cupcake looked down at the letter upon the silver plate, saw the exquisite envelope. She moved to lift it, but Carrot moved first.

Carefully and tenderly, he opened it, breaking the wax seal gingerly so that as much of it remained as possible. With that he lifted it with his teeth, motioned for her to take the envelope, much like they had once done upon a mattress in a bakery in the city beyond.

Cupcake stood with the envelope in her mouth, and soon what was transpiring began to register with her. At once Carrot had laid the letter before him. With that he asked for her hoof, raising his to meet hers. A string of causality wrapped around them, bound them to one another.

As she did, the other ponies in the room looked on in wonder. Carrot sat up and looked into the rose-colored eyes that he had first fallen into a year ago. Even now, they grew moist, her understanding of what he was doing growing in her. Even as they began to hide behind the cheeks that were rising in a broad smile… those eyes still called to him, as they would for decades if she would let him.

"To Miss Cupcake," began Carrot, "from Carrot Cake."

Carrot cleared his voice, lifted his hoof to hers that much more.

"A proposal for marriage…"

The envelope dropped out of Cupcake's mouth.

"… I have never been happier than during this last year, than during the time you have been in my life…"

He felt her short, sharp breaths begin. Felt her anticipation growing through the small connection that ran through their hooves.

"… You have added so much to my life, supported me, given me strength…"

Without breaking the connection between them, without taking her hoof out of his, she ran her face over her foreleg, wiped away the tears that were forming.

"…have given me reason to believe in myself because you believe in me…"

She stopped trying to hide the tears, just looked down to him as he read the letter. Cupcake's cheeks were hurting, her smile so strong that it consumed her. Even as she cried, she still set her eyes on him, this gangly colt… this stallion and his underbite, this wonderful stallion that had made her so happy.

"… I will work to make you happy, do all I can to show you how much I love you everyday, never stop trying to show you how much you mean to me…"

"Yes," she said, her voice just above a whisper.

Carrot jumped a little. He was not done yet, had not even reached the question.

"… in all things, our pain, or fear, our hope, you will be able to find shelter in me, and I will do everything I can to keep you safe and…"

"Yes," she said again, her voice louder and more certain.

He laughed a little. He had not even reached the question. Was she allowed to say that before he had even asked it?

He pressed on and looked up to her, looking into her beautiful eyes.

"… in all things you'll be my partner, my equal, and never will I doubt or demean you. I love you, Cupcake, and I ask you… please, will you…"

"Yes! Yes, Carrot!" she cried as she leapt into him, bowling him over and upon the pillows where they had been seated. Her lips were at once upon his. As the applause of a half-dozen hooves across the floor reached them, there is where they stayed.

Slowly, she lifted her head as her nieces giggled, and her nephew continued to voice the opinion of all little boys… namely that what was transpiring was gross and that he would not put up with it much longer.

As rose-colored eyes stared down at him, Carrot could not help but hope that the little colt would someday have ample reason to change his opinion.

"… marry me?" Carrot concluded while he laid his hoof beside her face.

"Yes," she whispered once more, touching her hoof to his. As the last happy tear fell from her face, she lowered herself again, laying her lips to his once more.

Despite the protests and giggles of the onlookers that was the way they stayed for a great long while… at least until the more romantically inclined population of the room demanded to congratulate the two lovers.

Sugar Cubes

Chapter 12: Sugar Cubes

Suffice it to say, there was a wedding.

Suffice it to say that there were months of planning, that there were serious questions about appetizers and the colors of tablecloths.

Suffice it to say that there was a dress, one made by the studious old dressmaker and her young unicorn apprentice whose detailing was as exacting and as precise as each of the three diamonds of her cutie mark implied.

Suffice it to say that there was a ceremony. Suffice it to say that there was a tearful reunion of Cupcake's sister with her father, the big stallion even wrapping her marefriend in a mammoth hug.

Suffice it to say that there was a ceremony, one of traditional Equestrian tastes.

Suffice it to say that her nieces threw flower petals.

Suffice it to say that there was disappointment that the old dance hall where they had first met had gone out of business and was not available for the reception.

Suffice it to say that Ivory used her new contacts to make sure that the Ponyville city hall was available, and that the colors and buntings of the circular building filled it with color and life.

Suffice it to say that a Ponyville that had long kept the secret of "The Game of This" came out in droves when so invited to partake of the celebration, so much so that Quarry had to offer up bounties for more food and drink. Carrot actually made a profit off of his own wedding.

Suffice it to say the celebration went far into the night, and whereas the nights were becoming chilly as autumn began, it seemed that the entire body of Ponyville crowded into the celebratory space for the warmth and fellowship.

Suffice it to say the crowd made it rather difficult (and in fact impossible) for Carrot and Cupcake to make their departure and enjoy their first night together as a married couple.

Suffice it to say, they were a tad miffed by that.

Suffice it to say that the next morning they were ushered to the train station by their families. After tearful goodbyes and a round of hugs, the bleary couple were ushered aboard the southbound train.

Suffice it to say that as the train rocked them in their seats and the warm light fell in through the windows, she laid her head across his chest. As the fresh air met them, the two were soon asleep.

Suffice it to say that the kindly old conductor laid a blanket across the two as they slumbered together in the seat, knowing that it was probably best that he take the ticket later.

Suffice it to say that when the crosshead on the cylinder shore off, sending a loud cascade of steam hissing out into the afternoon, it startled all aboard the train. The newlyweds were no exception, and they rolled from their seat to the floor in alarm. Cupcake landed upon her husband, their nap firmly interrupted.

Suffice it to say that the train slowly rolled to a stop just short of a small station that sat deep within the swampy reaches of the warm, wet part of Equestria.

Suffice it to say that the ponies of the tiny village were very surprised to have a trainload of visitors. The hamlet opened itself up to the stranded travelers and upon learning that Carrot and Cupcake were on their honeymoon, the entirety of the village came to life.

Suffice it to say there was a large celebration. Exotic dishes of peppers and rice and crawfish were laid out before the guests. Though they were both as far from home as they had ever been in their lives, the two ponies felt oddly at ease.

Suffice it to say that as the spare engine arrived and brought the wounded train up to the station, there were tearful goodbyes and promises of gifts that would be exchanged.

Suffice it to say that the promise was kept and would play out in ways not anticipated by any that waved goodbye on the platform of the station that late afternoon.

Suffice it to say that when the train finally arrived in Port-au-Prance, the passengers were still very much full of the good food and very much tired from their impromptu festivities.

Suffice it to say that as the late night closed in around them, the tired forms of Carrot Cake and Cupcake were slowly drawn through the warm, humid streets of the port city. Her head was in his lap as the carriage drew them along the cobblestone streets as jazz music floated from bars and cabarets.

Suffice it to say that the steward of the hotel had to gently wake them and tell them that the railroad company had sent word, that they were already registered.

Suffice it to say that upon being led to the honeymoon bungalow, the two could only gaze at the splendor. They could hear the wind brushing through the palms around it, could hear the ocean and see the starlight reflected off of it.

Suffice it to say that as these smells reached them, they lay together in the bed upon the screened-in porch and were soon asleep, each wrapped deep within the forelegs of the other, and were so denied for a second night the usual comforts that a honeymoon provides.

Suffice it to say that Carrot Cake awoke late the following morning to the enviable position of having a rather famished looking Cupcake staring down over him…

… and it was not for any meal that she was starved, but for something far more delightful, enticing, and satisfying.

With that he raised his lips up to hers. With small kisses he began to draw them down across her neck, her chest, her barrel. So it was that they spent that first day amid the balmy sea breezes partaking of such delights as would satiate their appetite for the taste of the other's affections, filled a longing whose satisfaction had been denied them for two long nights.

The steward had seen this before. Even though they had placed a breakfast order, the food had gone largely uneaten.

One day of it had been understandable but a second only left him fearing for the health of his clientele. Besides, Port-au-Prance had so much to offer a young couple besides the view from the soft beds of the bungalow. They simply had to eat something… one cannot live on love alone!

Clearing his throat, the steward disregarded the "Do Not Disturb" sign and knocked upon the door.

As he waited, he looked down to the plates, saw that the waffle had been nibbled upon in such a manner that it now resembled a heart. He could not also help but notice that the tooth marks upon it were from two different ponies, one smaller and one larger. He could only imagine that when the two had met at the apex of the heart, that it had set off another situation that had left the breakfast to expire.

He waited as long as he thought polite and then lifted his hoof to knock once more.

Almost as he had done so, the door came open just enough to reveal the form of a rather haggard yet visibly exultant young stallion with an amber coat.

"Hi!" Carrot breathed in a euphoric tone.

"Good afternoon sir," said the steward, "I'm very sorry to interrupt, but seeing as your breakfast went uneaten…"

"Oh, ummm… yeah, we were… occupied," said a blushing Carrot Cake.

"Understandable sir! Seeing as much, on behalf of the hotel we would like to offer you these meal vouchers for dinner at any number of our local eateries," spoke the steward as he produced a handful of coupons from his uniform.

"Oh, wow… thank you!" said Carrot as he took them up, "I really appreciate that!"

The steward smiled.

"Ginger Snap? What would you think of eating in the city tonight?" called Carrot.

"Oh, that would be lovely!" came the joyful, lilting voice of a mare. "Now come back to bed…"

The steward saw Carrot blush some more and look to him with a ridiculous grin.

"I should also like to remind sir that your beverages are included in the honeymoon package, and that you have not yet requested any today," said the nodding steward.

"Oh…oh, we haven't! Iced tea please," said Carrot as he turned back within the bungalow. "Sugar Plum? Would you like anything to drink?"

At the mention of a second name, the steward wondered how many mares the stallion was entertaining. When the same happy voice answered he realized it was a simply another pet name for the same mare who had sang out happily the first time.

"Oh, raspberry iced tea," she sang in a lilting tone. "Now come back to bed…"

"Perhaps some ice water too, sir? I shall bring pitchers of each… we wouldn't want you both to get dehydrated, after all," said the steward with a smile. As Carrot blushed some more, the steward went off into the midday sun, the palms rustling around him.

As he went back down the path, he could not help but smile to himself. They seemed quite happy, that young couple, and why shouldn't they be? They fit together so well, after all.

The pitchers were discovered soon after. Carrot prepared a tray with two tall glasses of the drinks, let a small mountain of sugar cubes gather in a bowl so that they could sweeten their drinks to taste.

He lifted the tray and brought it back out to the hidden porch high above the waters, away from any prying eyes. Cupcake swung in the hammock, letting the warm ocean breeze settle over her. Carrot's eyes fell across her once more as it caught in the wild frazzle of her mane.

He prepared her drink first, asked, "How many sugar cubes would you like, Honey Bun?"

"Two, please," she answered as she turned upon the hammock. She regarded him sweetly as he poured the teas and dropped the sugar and ice cubes within with careful hooves. As he did, she hovered upside down upon the hammock above the tray and the drinks.

He lifted the glass, and to her surprise he touched it to her chest, her stomach, and her neck. The cold raced through her as the ice within the glass chimed out, making her squirm and give tiny happy squeals each time the glass brushed her coat. Her small sounds rose higher as thin wet films fell across her, as the condensation found its way through the blue hues of her coat and met her fair skin beneath.

He pleasantly tormented her so until the ice clattered in the bucket, announcing that time had passed. With that, he looked for a place to put it where she could reach it from upon the hammock. As he did, her hoof lifted and brushed his chest. He looked up to see her gesturing to the already familiar daybed across the way.

Understanding what she was implying, he took her glass and his across the way and laid them carefully upon the table that stood nearby. Jumping upon the bed, he looked up to realize he had forgotten to flavor his own tea.

Carrot put his hoof to his face as he realized his mistake. He looked up to her to see her still upside down upon the hammock.

Her hooves lay at rest upon her, folded down the length of her chest. The twin tones of her rosy mane fell from her, hung loose, and farther down, her rear legs sat crossed at the ankles, lying upon the post and gently moving in a slow motion to make the hammock sway just so…

She looked at him with a look of sublime anticipation, an unending stream of expectancy as she moved her hips back and forth in regular motions, making her body lift and sway even as she lay supine upon the hammock.

"Ginger Snap?" he asked as he laid his head upon the table to ponder his love in her repose. "When you get up, could you bring me a sugar cube? Or two, please?"

Cupcake sat up and looked at him over her shoulder. A devious smile crossed her face. With that she leapt from the hammock and gathered the entirety of the sugar cube bowl by the thin wire handle and carried it across the way.

Carrot watched as she brushed back her mane and then, as though in slow motion, she lowered her head and picked up one of the cubes with her teeth.

She turned and looked at him, the sugar cube resting upon her lips, set just upon her teeth. She moved, but not towards the tall glass of iced tea.

Cupcake laid her hooves across his chest and hovered over him, looking down at him with the rosy eyes that he adored.

She lowered her head and made him make small movements to claim the cube, pulling back in the slightest each time he reached up.

Carrot smiled to her, saw the perfect angles of the sugar cube playing out against the ideal blue of her coat and the white of her teeth.

She lowered herself again, this time without teasing him. His lips met hers, moved against hers, sharing the sugar cube back and forth between them. Each chased it across the tongue of the other until the cube melted away across their lips.

"One cube," she asked with a giggle, her hoof making a small circle across his chest, "or two?"

"Two," he answered, "oh, yes, most definitely two…"

He watched her lift another one, drank in the image of the sugar cube and its corners juxtaposed against the soft curves of her face. One little corner of the sugar cube sat out, calling his lips up to hers once more.

Sugar cube. Corner. The three little words floated through him as they shared the second cube, the taste of the sugar linking them in one sensation of taste.

"I… I think I just thought of a new name for the bakery," he said as he lowered his head back to the pillow. With that she climbed back upon the bed with him and laid herself across his chest.

"That's so wonderful, Carrot," she said as her eyes closed and he stroked her mane. The sounds of the ocean rolled up the beach as Cupcake completed her thought.

"Everything is just so wonderful…"

They enjoyed their dinner in the city. The restaurant was pleasant and located right in the main square. They were seated in a garden and listened to the jazz music that floated over this city as they ate.

They walked back past the old fortress. The gates were illuminated by lanterns that flashed as though in an explosion of colors.

They walked the beach as the sun set. As they watched Celestia lower her charge across the horizon, the night fell. They scampered among the tide, chased the birds and then each other.

She looked back to see that he had stopped his chase and was staring down at something that stood upon the sand.

He raised his head and asked her to return. As she did, she found that his hoofprint was set along one of hers, that it encompassed it. Together the two prints seemed almost as one.

He looked up to her. She smiled as she encircled the two prints with a perfect heart.

Together they walked down to where the waters of the ocean came rolling in, let it wash over their ankles and legs as the last rays of the sunset fell in the west, and they stared out over the broad horizon.

With that they went back up to the sheltered bungalow, hidden as it was among the palms, away from the inquisitive eyes and delicate ears of those who might be enjoying a stroll upon the moonlit beach. Good thing that, as the night was still young and they were very much in love.

There is no greater argument for the existence of superpowers than the power of perception granted to mothers.

The tiniest whisper when a child is supposed to be asleep, the faintest cry of pain from an upset stomach—these are all within the range of the ears of a caring mother.

The ability to sense that something is not right, that their child is somehow in danger of harm or hurting themselves… the ability to somehow "just know," these are the gifts given to a mother.

The gift lurched Roxy awake on a brilliant moonlit night in the fading days of autumn. What she sensed as she slowly left Clyde in the warm bed was a feeling that sat deep upon her maternal instincts, something she could not name.

Something was wrong with one of her babies, but she did not know what.

She went down the hallway that separated the two bedrooms on silent hooves, avoiding the familiar weak places that would sound out in wooden groans if disturbed.

The door of the room was already opened a crack. Roxy stared within as a nameless apprehension filled her.

Her eyes swept the room, saw where the figures of Inkie and Blinkie still slept upon their beds.

She found no such comfort in looking upon Pinkie's bed. It was empty. The sheets were thrown wide and no sign of the pink filly anywhere in the room met her searching eyes.

She quickly wheeled around to the upstairs bathroom, saw the door wide and the room unoccupied. Inside a few steps, Roxy was heading down the stairs on quick hooves.

The mother moved from room to room, searching out her missing daughter. As she did, she called her name. "Pinkie?" she whispered, her eyes growing more and more accustomed to the darkness as she searched out small places, darting back and forth through rooms she had already checked.

"Pinkamena? It's… now isn't the time for games," she said even while she sped around the rooms, lifting her voice as high as she dared. "Pinkamena… Pinkie Pie? Pinkie?"

A hundred horrors grew inside her as she sped back up the stairs, looked across the three rooms that stood there in the darkness once more, and then sped back down the stairs with noises of constrained worry.

She was not here. She was not in the house… Pinkie was not in the small, quiet house at all. Worries that only a parent can feel began to rise up in Roxy. Horrible thoughts began to rise as the clock in the hallway began to chime the early morning hour.

She checked each of the downstairs rooms again, looking under the couch, even opening the icebox door and peering within as more and more dread grew behind her eyes. "Pinkie?" she called once more, louder than before…

Movement. A small little motion crossed her eyes, played out at the edges of her vision.

Roxy turned and looked out the window. She stared across the fields of the farm Clyde had built, not believing what she saw there.

Immediately she had grabbed at a housecoat that stood upon an old coat rack, opened the door, and stepped a few steps out into the frigid first hours of a late autumn morning where the moon still hung high in the sky.

A voice reached her. At once her hoof went to her mouth in surprise and alarm.

As she watched, a small horror began to spread over her. Inside of a moment she had pelted back within the house.

She had barely cleared the door when she was aware of movement inside her home, the feel of one of her loved ones awake and moving.

Clyde stood at the top of the stairs and peered down to her. He too had come awake, had sensed something wrong. He had heard the fearful sound of her racing about and calling for one of their daughters.

Clyde too had seen the empty bed… the icy fear of a parent awakening in him as he stared down to her, felt the cold autumn frost sneaking in through the door as she looked up to him with anxiety painted across her face.

"Clyde!" she called in a whispered implore, alarm in her voice, raising her hoof to him.

At once the stallion was crashing down the stairs, joining her as she made for the door.

At once the two were outside. He blinked and tried to force his eyes to adjust to the moonlight. Across the windswept acres of the farm, some movement caught his eye, a shadow that lifted across the tall spire of the silo as a small flicker of flame rose against the black of the night.

He looked on as a figure swayed back and forth, leapt and kicked in a scene more like a pagan ritual than a party.

A party, that is what was happening on his farm. That is what his daughter was doing out of her warm bed, here in the first hours of a frosty autumn day that still lingered in the blackness of night.

Pinkie's voice came crackling and uncertain. It was still her, still their daughter, but it was as though she was thin and drawn. As they approached her, they saw her dancing… or, at least, attempting to dance.

Her voice rang out, and she sang… or, at least, attempted to sing.

"Pinkamena?" came her mother's voice, and at once the little filly turned to face them. Her colors went into stark relief as she turned into the darkness. Her shadow fell from the silo as a small birthday cake, one that seemed to be hastily thrown together, sat before them alight with dozens of candles.

"Hi momma! Hi poppa!" she said as she trembled in the cold. "Did you come to celebrate the silo's birthday too? We never threw the silo a birthday and I woke up and said 'Hey!' we've never thrown the silo a birthday party and today could be that day! I mean any day could be the day but I don't know so I chose today because…"

"Pinkie," he father interrupted to little effect.

"… I was awake, and I saw the silo and I thought that I could figure out when we built the silo and that could be it's birthday…" she continued, unaware of their growing looks of worry.

"Pinkie Pie!" her mother scolded, her voice full of worry.

"… and I guess we should have one for the barn, the windmill, and the house too because we don't want them to think we don't love them and they might get jealous and there's nothing worse than a jealous windmill and…"

"Pinkamena!" roared her father, his voice echoing off the silo, drifting down over the deep acres of his farm.

Pinkie went stark still, her expression dropping. For one of the very few instances in her life, she looked upon him as he glared at her in anger, his face creased and his ears back beneath the black hat.

"I… I just wanted to…" she said as she trembled, the candles upon the cake tossing in a cold autumn wind that dove upon them.

Slowly her two parents came up to her, stood around her, and blocked the wind from reaching her.

"Pinkie Pie," he said as he lowered his head to her, his expression stern and set with concern. "Your mother was terrified. She woke up and you weren't in your bed… she ran through the house calling for you. What if you'd gotten lost, or hurt?"

Pinkie rolled around and looked up to her mother. "I'm, I'm sorry momma…"

"Pinkie," said her mother, "you know better… it's, it's two o'clock in the morning, dear! It's so very cold! You… you're trembling…"

"I am?" asked Pinkie, seemingly unaware. The filly looked down across her own legs, saw them shake in the moonlight.

"I-I am trembling! I am cold! I'm cold!" she said, darting about in place. She quickly blew out the candles upon the cake and wrapped herself around the leg of her father. With that, they went back to the house in the darkness.

Together the three climbed the stairs, the shaking form of Pinkie still huddled to them. To their surprise, Inkie stood at the top of the stairs, the filly hiding behind the doorframe to her room.

"Momma, poppa? What's going on?" asked the drowsy filly, looking upon her parents and sister fretfully.

"Nothing, dear," said her mother while planting a kiss upon her head as Clyde guided Pinkie towards their room, "go back to bed, my Love…"

Pinkie lay between them, the heat of their bodies warming their filly as she fell back to sleep. Roxy cuddled close to her filly and husband. She soon returned to sleep, her maternal superpowers having been satiated.

For Clyde though, sleep did not come for a great long while. Now his paternal instincts were at the fore, and there was no answer soon in coming.

Something was wrong, something that her mark wanted… something that had driven her from her bed and into the frigid night.

Something he did not know how to provide.

Clyde closed his eyes and wondered if there was not anything he could do. He sat up, looking across his loved ones until sleep found him, and he lowered his head back to the pillow.

Outside, the moonlight shone. No voices carried on the wind that drove the dry autumn leaves across the farm.

The bowl of thin wafer candies stood there upon the table.

As it was something of a tradition between them, she selected one and lifted it with her teeth so that it rested lightly across her lips.

As the warm, sweet smells of the bakery of Sugar Cube Corner lifted around them, Carrot Cake and Cup Cake reenacted the moment of inspiration that had given the bakery its name.

Carrot saw the thin round disk sitting upon her tongue, between her lips.

In a long motion he leaned in, held his lips to hers, let the disk melt as they passed it back and forth between them. Together they shared the taste of the candy just as they had shared a sugar cube that had long, long ago dissolved but whose taste had lingered for these years and decades.

Years that were sometimes happy, sometimes sad… sometimes trying.

This was just one of the many happy little traditions that accompanied the construction of the annual gingerbread house.

She watched as it came closer and closer to being complete. It truly now looked like their great work that was so often purchased months in advance, or some years, was even bid upon for charity.

This year it had a special purpose, this year was special. This Hearth's Warming, the gingerbread house was meant to symbolize that much more.

She turned back to the oven and removed the dozen figures that sat awaiting decoration, the residents of the gingerbread house.

She looked back to Carrot, giggled as she saw the great white dollop of frosting still sitting across his nose.

This year was turning out special indeed…

It was to Cupcake's great joy that her nieces and nephew had taken to calling him "Uncle Carrot" so quickly. They had moved without question from looking at him as "Aunt Cupcake's friend" to "Aunt Cupcake's coltfriend" to "family."

Their acceptance of Carrot was as complete and total as if he had been a part of their lives for one thousand years, their reception of the gangly stallion as total and whole as only a child can offer.

Cupcake helped her oldest niece wash her hooves free of the dough as Carrot helped the colt place the trays of cookies within the great warm oven, the colt being amazed by the rows of blue flame that sat within.

Carrot walked gingerly to avoid the little form of his youngest niece, the one who walked beneath and beside him as though she were a puppy rather than a mature and grown-up filly of six long years.

As she smiled at the sight, Cupcake looked out the window, saw how the cold, deep part of winter had once more arrived.

Here inside the warm bakery she thought of how almost a year before, she had almost run from this bakery in fear, how she had almost let herself become consumed by dread and apprehension. Her fear was gone. Now the weak-jawed stallion sat in the showcase room with his hooves over his eyes, counting as her nephew and nieces tried to hide amongst the counters, stands, and racks in a game of Hide-and-Seek.

She wondered what would have happened if Carrot had not tripped down the stairs, if her first instinct had not of been to reach for him and see to his hurts. Would scenes like this have happened? Would they still be dwelling in that dark netherworld of not knowing? If he had not taken a risk… trusted to his love…

She took the cookies out of the oven as peals of laughter erupted from the showcase room. Looking within, she saw the gentle hooves of her husband employed in defending himself from attackers who seemed intent on tickling him… he answering their attacks in kind as they fell over him, slid down his flanks and rested against him before renewing their assaults.

Cupcake giggled to herself as the winter outside grew deeper, darker… yet the warmth that flowed from the laughter in the next room drove thoughts of the cold far from her.

After the children had decorated their cookies, they all had washed the dishes. Cupcake though finished them, drying them as the four once more returned to the showcase room.

Cupcake found herself staring out over the cooling rack as a dozen foals smiled back at her, each wildly colored and overly decorated. The cookies were each a picture of happy children, ones that seemed so very alive, joyful… as joyful as Carrot was making her sister's foals.

Inside Cupcake something moved. A feeling grew, and with a breath she pondered it, let it swirl around as the winter wind rattled at the windowpanes.

She saw the flash of a vision, saw herself standing over a cradle, singing a lullaby as her husband stood nearby.

She went to the doorway, leaned against it as she pondered the scene before her.

Carrot was doing a dramatic reading of a cookbook. Her youngest niece sat beneath him, tucked into his lap with her head resting upon his forelegs as he sat, her eldest niece and her nephew leaning against his flanks as he read.

Carrot lifted his distinctive voice, giving characters like "nutmeg" and "baker's chocolate" elaborate back stories, had them do battle with mixing spoons and escape the clutches of evil egg beaters.

She smiled as he sent his ingredients off on adventures across scorching ovens and through the wilds of kitchens. Carrot had them find the lost treasures of jelly fillings and frostings, the foals hanging on his every word.

Her mind went to a wide number of places, saw boxes of unused diapers, clouds of baby powder.

The bakery was doing fine, they… they were not going to get rich, but they were not going to starve by any means. They were happy, they loved one another… there… there was no reason why they couldn't…

"Please," she whispered to the magic of Equestria, "I'm ready for this, I want this…"

Her eyes settled back upon Carrot. A smile settled over her as he completed his narrative.

All too soon, Ruby Quartz had arrived. The foals gathered their cookies into paper bags and said their goodbyes. Amid the kisses and hugs, the youngest niece had been reluctant to leave, wrapping herself tightly to her aunt and uncle, only their promises of visits whenever she wished making her finally relinquish her hold.

With that the bakery went all too quiet again. Far too quiet for Cupcake's liking… for her wish.

Carrot stood in the kitchen, wiping down his equipment, whistling as he did so.

"Carrot?" he heard her say, her voice soft and full of questions. He had not heard this tone from her before. It caught his attention and drew him to his wife.

"Ginger Snap?" he asked. "What's up? Something wrong?"

"No… no, nothing's wrong," she said sitting there before him, waiting as he too put aside his tasks and sat with her upon the warm kitchen floor.

"I…" she began after taking a breath and looking up to his green eyes, "I think we should start thinking about… thinking about having a foal."

"Okay," he said. Her words had barely left her. She startled and looked back to him with puzzlement.

"Really?" she asked, "I mean, we should really start thinking about what it…"

Carrot stuck his tongue out the side of his head. He took off his cap, ran his hoof under his chin and gave an intellectual hum.

"I just thunk," he said, looking back to her with a grin, "let's have a foal."

"Carrot!" she said as she stood, looking at him as though she did not believe he was treating it as the weighty matter it was. "I'm serious! Please, I…"

He lifted his mouth to hers and drew her into another kiss, one that called her back down so that she sat with him again, moved her closer to him.

He looked at her with a smile still upon his face. At the same time, earnestness sat behind his eyes.

"Cupcake," he said as she laid into his chest, the place in her world where she felt the safest and most secure, "I am serious. I-I was going to ask you what you'd think about getting started at trying to…"

"Really?" she asked, her smile so evident that he could feel it lift upon her as she sat there pressed against him.

"Yes," he said as he lowered himself to plant a kiss upon her head. "Have… have you asked the magic yet?"

"Yes," she answered, "just… just as you were playing with…"

"Please," she heard him say with his voice just above a whisper, yet firm and resolute, "I want this. I am ready for this."

As soon as he had finished, she repeated her earlier implore, nuzzling beneath his chin and against his chest as she spoke the words.

It was entirely symbolic, at least the words, but what it meant spoke volumes.

This then was their wish, that this would happen, that they could have this for one another.

So began the second round of "The Game of This." With that more strings of causality looped around them… some moving in ways that they had perhaps not expected.

She lifted herself and stared up to him. She took deep breaths, her heart skipping as he lowered his nose to hers. As the two rubbed them together in long slow circles and figure eights, the sensation of their touch fell through one another, filling the other with well being, love… hope.

"Then-then we, then we should get started," she said as a giggle lifting through her.

Carrot's eyes shifted back and forth, pondering his kitchen with a wicked smile.

"You mean, ummm… right here?" he said as he looked back to her with a wink.

Cupcake put her hoof on his chest, rolled her eyes and then stood. "Oh Carrot!" she said while she turned towards the showcase room, looking back at him over her shoulder. "You're insatiable!"

He met her rosy eyes and gave a great smile. "Only because you're so beautiful, Sugar Plum…"

He followed her as she began to walk, watched her steps become bouncing ones that revealed her own anticipation.

"How about here?" he asked as he pointed out a long display case. He listened to her giggle, felt himself lift in the music of it.

"How about here?" he inquired, pointing out the seldom used closet by the door, her laughter growing with each suggestion.

"Here? Here? Here?" he implored as their hooves made soft sounds across each of the steps that led to the second floor and the bedroom beyond.

Her laughter stopped as they reached the top of the stairs. She felt his hoof trace the length of her stifle and gaskin. She looked back and saw him draw himself up; ask her to return to his embrace.

As she did, she felt him lift her, carrying her in an unponylike fashion. He used his body to open the door, let his frame fall back and close it gently.

With that he laid his wife, his love, upon the bed and looked down over her body.

"Wherever you want to go," he repeated as a memory reached him, "I'll go there with you."

As the winter wind swirled around the bakery, the place where they both wished to go was towards making their love manifest, bring into this happy world of magic and sunlit days a little pony that they could cherish.

She called his body over hers, guided his face down to hers, and with that, they went as one down that path.

Twice Upon a Mattress

Chapter 13: Twice Upon a Mattress

The gingerbread house was coming together. Only a few major elements remained to place in play, the shingles, the sidewalks, the wintry trees bestrewn with candy that spoke of decorations.

And, of course, gingerbread ponies as well.

Carrot looked up and awaited her return with the decorated denizens of the project. He tilted his head as he saw her standing over them. At once a small sound reached him, one that made him sigh.

Carrot trotted the length of the kitchen to where she stood beneath the window. There a countertop arrayed with all that a properly dressed gingerbread pony could desire sat awaiting her use.

Most were done. They sat upon a cooling rack waiting for their turn to be added to the project.

He could already guess what had brought her work to a standstill, what had made her stop in the midst of their project.

Right in front of Cup Cake stood one little gingerbread pony, a foal that stood there incomplete under her gaze.

Her sighs rose to meet him as he sat beside her. Outside the window, families were going by… earth pony families, pegasus families, and unicorn families all trotted past. Happy families made up of mares, stallions, and foals… families that had foals.

He nuzzled her. As she leaned into him, she was careful to avoid the frosting that still sat upon his nose.

Together they sat in the brilliant sunshine and watched families go by that included the one thing that had eluded them, the one part of the puzzle that had not come into play…

Being born an Equestrian of any of the three races means that you are a magical creature, one raised in a magical land and one that sees magic as commonplace.

Your daily life is filled with magic. Magic makes light appear in darkened rooms with an audible snap. Magic runs the devices that make your life so easy; magic makes it possible for you to watch movies, to run sewing machines, to power blenders and mixers.

The very fabric of Equestria is alive with magic. Magic is a part of the very fabric of all that has surrounded you since your birth. Rock farmers, those studious geoculturalists, gather magic from the very earth. Vast dams capture the magic that swirls within the waters that rush through the land.

Overhead clouds guided by magic sit in your sky, and the very sun that shines down upon you would still be on the other side of this little world if an alicorn who is the living embodiment of deep magic had not slid the world around its axis that morning to meet the warmth it provides.

To the Equestrians, magic is a part of life. It is a part of their day.

It is, in point of fact, a part of themselves.

To be an Equestrian Pony means that you are a magical creature. You know this. You understand it and it is no more surprising to you than knowing that you have ears or hooves.

True, the magic differs from pony to pony. Unicorns drape themselves in it, waft it around in visible auras of color and light, perform great spells with it that amaze and terrify.

The pegasi wear their magic as part of themselves, channel it through their wings to gain the flight that defines their race. They use it to shepherd the clouds, lift the waters, drive the rains and snows before them, and move the weather that a dark magic long ago denied this magical land.

The earth ponies keep it still and quiet. They wear it as a badge. To them the magic is internal and defining. It flows from the land and into them and from them back out into it, giving them their resolve and fortitude. To an earth pony, magic is personal. Their strengths are fueled by it as much as they fuel it, return it to the land that gives them their name.

There are other magics, magics that sit inside each Equestrian as much if not more than those that define the races.

The magic defends you against magical diseases, keeps you safe from drifting bits of magica vasto that could harm you if you were on the downside of your luck.

The magic helps you learn. Sitting astride you as your mark, the magic guides you through your life, accompanies you until your dying day. It is your companion. It is your friend through your life from the moment of your conception and even before that.

The magic is responsible for your birth.

It is a truth spoken to foals whose curiosity about where babies come from has gone beyond what the old pleasant lies about magic mirrors can supplicate.

"Oh! They come about through magic!" speak their parents in half-truths, leaving out the icky discussion about biology that most certainly is also required to begin a new life.

Yet the magic is fundamental to it. It must play its part.

Being an Equestrian Pony means just that… that you are a Pony, not a pony.

You are ruled first by thought, then by your magic, and lastly by your biology. You answer to intellect, not instinct.

You are not some wild soulless prey animal who mindlessly goes a whole year eating grass and running away at the slightest hint of danger before the few days of estrus take control of your mind and force you to procreate.

Your mother did not suddenly go into "heat" and stand whinnying on a street corner to be serviced by a stallion like some feral beast of the field.

It is a gift given to the Equestrians, that as much as a child must be conceived by biology that the magic too must be answered. Magic is as just a fundamental a part of their lives as having a heart, a mind, and lungs.

As every adolescent who has ever had to sit through embarrassing movies in health class knows, the magic must be asked to join the efforts of a couple to produce a child, must be welcomed into the hearts of both before the biology can play its part.

That is all it takes, for the magic to be asked. With that an act that was once simply an act of pleasure and intimacy shared between two ponies was now that much more… the magic awakening parts of the mare that, while ready for their function, had not been asked to perform it.

That is the great gift given to the Equestrians, that no child is unwanted… that each is in fact pleaded for.

That was what Carrot and Cupcake had done in the kitchen that day. They had spoken it aloud, said it to themselves, and promised it to each other… admitted aloud that this was now their wish.

The magic would have known if they had not said it. Even if longed for within the heart, it knows. It knows many things. It must decide.

Soon books had begun to appear around Sugar Cube Corner, one with names like "Naming Your Baby," "Choosing Your Baby's Name," and "How in the Well to Guess What in the Buck Your Baby's Cutie Mark and Special Talent are Going to Be so You Don't Saddle the Foal with a Ridiculous Name for the Rest of Their Mortal Life".

Catalogs appeared, ones that featured an array of educational toys, ones that featured an array of devices and other instruments that Cupcake pondered with increasing interest.

"Please," she repeated, "I want this. I'm ready for this."

After days of consideration, Cupcake had finally designated one room, the one at the farthest end of the hall that the sun kept nice and warm, to be the nursery. With that Carrot had spent whatever time he could moving the furniture, painting the walls a nice happy color, and laying some fine new carpet.

Of course once he had done all of that, Cupcake changed her mind and designated the middle room, the one closer to their bedroom, as the nursery. With that he once more used whatever time he could during the day to once more moving the furniture, once more painting the nice happy color, and once more laying the fine carpet.

"Please," he said aloud to his tools and the unused portion of the carpet, "I want this. I'm ready for this."

Soon their secret was out. The news that they were trying to have a foal reached all levels of their family circle and deep into their network of friends.

Soon Cupcake found herself being told what foods she could eat to help her chances, how to do odd things with her hips after their attempts, what exercises she should do. Her mother even volunteered to make her a special soup made of herbs that she was pretty sure were only useful as decorations and for repelling mosquitoes.

All of these sounded like old mare's tales, and she looked at each with deep disbelief.

As a month of trying had become months, she had tried them all religiously.

"Please, please, please," she begged aloud, "I'm ready for this, please, I really am…"

He too began reading articles in the backs of magazines that he would never usually consider perusing. He found one article that announced that mussels would assist his potency. This only resulted in him spending one night monopolizing the bathroom as he discovered his intolerance for certain shellfish.

When his small circle of friends found out what he was attempting, first came the usual innuendos about the "hard work" he was doing. Soon after came the genuine advice.

One of Carrot's friends, whom already had several children, delivered a certain box wrapped in brown paper to Sugar Cube Corner. Upon the box was a note that promised that all the items within were guaranteed to work.

Upon peering within the box, Carrot and Cupcake looked at one another with mounting skepticism.

As their nightly attempt drew near, he stood in the bathroom and looked at the contents once more.

To him it all appeared to be hooey. As he lifted each device a look of deep doubt fell over him.

Yet months had drawn on to seasons, so he determined to try them all.

"Please, oh, please," he said aloud, "I want this so much. I want it for her, for us…"

A few minutes later, Carrot peeked out of the bathroom at her. He then slowly revealed himself.

Upon him stood all sorts of gadgets and contraptions that promised to assist in every aspect of the magical and biological components of conception.

As he walked to the bed, he jingled and jangled, chimed and tweeted as metal and plastic and latex spun and flapped. A dozen or so devices covered him, all of them twirling, twisting, and making insincere noises.

He stood at the edge of the bed with uncertainty painted across his face. Misgivings played out upon his features as something whirred and something else vibrated enthusiastically.

They stared at one another for a long time, stared across the reach of the bed as the contraptions flipped and flopped, beeped and bopped.

As Carrot stood there, he saw Cupcake's hoof come up to her mouth. An emotion spread behind it that she was trying to hide, was fighting to keep within.

He raised his hoof and stepped forward, worried that she may be upset or even scared.

However, as he buzzed and binged and various components of his ensemble began to shake and flutter, she lost control of her emotion… and began to laugh.

She had been trying to hide her laughter, trying not to embarrass him. It was too much, the sight of her husband like that. He was adorned so ridiculously. He was trying so hard, was willing to make a fool of himself for her… for them.

He watched her laugh as a smile spread over his own face, happy to see her this way.

She leapt to him, and together they laughed at the absurdity of it all as the gadgets tooted, tweeted, and quacked. The ponies though simply rocked one another, kissed and looked into the eyes of the other as all sorts of lights went off, and as small spinners spun.

"I'm trying, Sugar Plum," said Carrot, rocking her as something sprung upon his head and confetti fell over them, the purpose of the damnable thing beyond either of their guesses. "I'm trying so hard, for this… to do this…"

"I know," she said while brushing the confetti from him and kissing his cheek, his neck, his chest. "I love you so much… don't stop trying. We can do this…"

After a moment of deliberation, they decided that the apparatuses Carrot was covered with could have a more practical use. Together their imaginations crafted a delightful bit of impromptu theater. Carrot portrayed a creature from another world, one that carried her off to slake his alien drives as she swooned in his forelegs.

While not the intended use of the dubious devices, they both had to admit later that it certainly was an enjoyable and entertaining way to fill the evening.

Weeks later the contraptions sat in a nearby garbage can. Cupcake stood in the same bathroom, not noticing them as she contemplated her own body and tried to feel something within her.

She took deep breaths, tried to see if she was sick.

To her continued frustration she was not. She was not getting sick in the morning.

She looked at herself in the mirror, saw the awareness growing behind her eyes that she was not using the bathroom more than usual.

She had no odd cravings.

There were no new stretch marks upon her, no red lines hidden beneath her coat.

Her body had not changed. It gave her no sign that she would soon have to wear a nursing dress in public. Her body gave her no sign that her abdomen was growing any larger than her usual roundness.

She was not pregnant.

Nine months of trying and she still was not pregnant.

She had done everything. They had tried so hard… Carrot was trying so hard. They'd made time. They had made preparations and planned everything.

She had said Invokes, said them over and over…

Why was she not pregnant? Why?

Why, why, why!

"Please, please!" she called aloud as she spun around. She kicked at a pile of folded towels and pulled the washcloths off the rack.

At once she began to cry. She let the tears roll down her face as she spun around like a wild horse, bucking and kicking as she made unhappy sounds.

"Please!" she demanded, raged as shampoo bottles crashed to the floor and the shaving cream can flew across the room.

She stood there for a minute regaining her breath and letting her face sit upon the rumpled towels.

With one hoof held over her mouth, she went pelting awkwardly down the stairs and into the bakery proper.

Carrot was just finishing up waiting on a customer when she came galloping up to him. She grabbed him by the foreleg and began pulling him towards the kitchen.

"Honey Bun?" he said as she pulled at him with her gaze upon the floor. He nodded to Breezy as the stallion doffed his cap and then went out the door, perhaps knowing that something was about to transpire that was beyond his right to hear.

She pulled him to the kitchen, sat him down in front of the fireplace and pushed deep into his chest, desperately seeking the comfort that always waited for her there.

He wrapped his forelegs around her and cradled her. He rocked her for long minutes before speaking to her.

"Ginger Snap?" he asked in quiet tones. "Are you okay?"

She began to speak. She tried to tell him about the new worry that filled her, but instead the words fell from her mouth as a warm huff of emotion that stayed upon his chest. The warmth remained there as she wiped her face upon him and tried to speak again.

"Carrot," she said as her voice broke, "we need to go and see a doctor."

Carrot rocked her back and forth some more and drew her tighter to him.

"Okay," he said as he rested his head next to hers, "okay."

A week later Carrot sat upon the cold examination table. The thin sheet of paper that sat upon it did not protect him from the chill that came up from the metal surface in the slightest.

He sighed as he looked around the room, the various charts and models of various dangly bits of reproductive tracts signaling very loudly that he was indeed sitting in a fertility clinic.

He sighed again and rubbed his eyes. As he did, he whispered a small Invoke.

"Please," he said as he stared at the door, "if-if it is something wrong with one of us… please, let it be me."

Silence hung around the room. The various models and diagrams seemed to brood over him, seemed to be questioning his stallionhood. He let them mock him. He only just sat there and begged that it was his fault… that she would not have to blame herself.

With that the door came open, the doctor nodding to him as he took a seat and laid some more charts before Carrot.

"Well," began the doctor as he removed his glasses, cleaning them with a fine terry cloth as they hung inside the blue aura of his magic. "Your count is in the normal range, and the percentage of healthy gametes are well within average."

Carrot's heart sank. With that he swallowed hard and felt himself began to ask a difficult question for any stallion.

"It's… the reason we're having trouble, then, it couldn't be because I'm, on the… that I'm rather kinda on the smallish…" sighed Carrot.

The doctor quickly interrupted without looking up from where he polished and cleaned his glasses.

"I assure you, Mr. Cake," said the doctor, his calm professional demeanor not falling for a second, "that there is nothing about you biologically that is preventing you from having foals."

"Oh no," spoke Carrot, his little words sliding out over models and diagrams, "Cupcake…"

"Whereas you're both here to discover why you are having trouble with conceiving it does not break my doctor and patient privilege to tell you…" began the doctor, waiting for Carrot to finish swallowing in anxiety.

"… to tell you that your wife is entirely healthy as well, that there is no biological reason why she can not have a foal," he finished as he still worked furiously at his glasses.

The two stallions sat there in the room quietly: the doctor battling with a smudge, Carrot simply in a haze of thought.

Carrot wondered what types of things a fertility clinic doctor might get on his glasses that would stain them so. Carrot shook his head to drive the thought from him.

"Then, oh, then," stammered Carrot as he gave voice to the simple truth that hung there in the room, "it… it has to be magical, right?"

The doctor finished cleaning his glasses and placed them back upon his face. He blinked and turned towards Carrot.

"Yes," said the doctor as he painted a professional smile and gathered up some of the clipboards he had brought with him, "that is the only other real reason that presents itself… and, unfortunately, it's the one we can do the least about."

The doctor flipped through some of the papers and drifted his magic across the room to gather up a pencil.

"Let me ask you some questions about your personal magic, Mr. Cake," said the doctor as he began to scratch away, "You do wish to have children, yes? You've internalized that?"

"Oh, yes!" answered Carrot. "Just the other day I caught myself rocking a loaf of bread I'd baked like a foal in my arms and singing it a lullaby!"

Carrot mimicked his actions as a great smirk went across his face. To his surprise the doctor joined in his pantomime, lifting the figurative bakery-based baby.

"Congratulations!" intoned the doctor. "It's a pumpernickel!"

The two stallions laughed small laughs. It was the first time Carrot had seen the unicorn do so during all of that long morning and early afternoon.

All too soon the doctor turned back to the clipboard, his face going somber as he asked a few more questions. Carrot answered quickly and precisely until one was reached.

"Are you currently," asked the doctor as he went straight back into his highly professional and distanced tone, "engaged, or any time in the past have you been engaged, in an extramarital affair?"

"No!" answered Carrot. "Oh, Celestia, no!"

"It's part of the checklist, Mr. Cake," intoned the doctor who looked at Carrot over his glasses, drawing Carrot back down into stillness before returning to his chart. "Such infidelity interrupts the magic. Studies have proven it, and we must eliminate all possible causes."

The doctor looked back up to Carrot. He saw the lingering question that hung there, the same fear that sits behind the eyes of all stallions when such a statement is floated out over a room.

The doctor cleared his throat and leaned forward.

"Though doctor and patient privilege prevents me from distributing confidential information about any of my clients," he said while looking Carrot directly in the eye, "I can tell you without reservation that I can eliminate that particular reason from our list of probable causes… for both of you, and that I'm very happy for the two of you as well."

The two nodded back and forth.

"I never even thought of that," said Carrot as his eyes fell back to the floor. "It never even crossed my mind."

The doctor nodded again and looked to the charts once more. Silence hung over the small examination room.

"But," spoke Carrot, "if it hasn't happened yet, us getting pregnant… does that mean that there's a chance that it may-may never happen?"

"Yes, but then again it may. The magic has its own reasons, own schedules, own motivations," said the doctor while he put the pencil aside, "all I can say at this time is 'keep trying'."

Carrot's head dropped.

"I should like to take a look at your genetic histories," he said as his magic flipped through pages, "there's some pretty engaging theories about how genetics and magic interplay, and there are well known syndromes and complications that may arise from…"

The doctor looked up from the clipboard. He stopped speaking as he saw Carrot's eyes sitting upon a cutaway model of a mare heavy with foal.

"Doctor," asked Carrot, his voice sounding worried and strained, "is it true that the mare usually blames herself… usually accuses herself, when the magic fails?"

The doctor put the clipboards aside. With a compassionate glance he leaned forward again.

"I'm… I am no psychologist, Mr. Cake, but in my experience, that is common," he said as he rubbed his hooves together. "The magic involves both parents, but it is the mare's biology that is most moved… and very often, yes, they take the responsibility upon themselves…"

"I want to be with her," Carrot said immediately, standing and staring at the door. "Right now, I want to be with her right now."

"Of course," answered the doctor, putting aside all of the trays and clipboards and opening the door, "of course."

The doctor began leading him down the hallway, past rooms where desperate looking couples surrounded by foals talked in euphemisms about ways of preventing further abundance.

The unfairness of it stung at Carrot as he realized what she must be feeling. While that horror grew in him, he began to canter and trot, the doctor struggling to keep up with him as his lab coat ruffled around him.

At once they arrived at a door. The doctor opened it.

As the two stallions stood there looking at her, Cupcake dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, the nearby wastepaper basket having grown full of them.

She looked up to them. The hospital gown from her more demanding examination crinkled as she looked back and forth between them.

"Is, is it because I'm… round?" she asked, her voice weak and withdrawn.

At once Carrot was with her. His hooves were upon the table, and he was leaning into her, running his face along hers as her tears caught in his coat.

Suffice it to say they went back home to the bakery.

Suffice it to say that the rest of the day passed quietly, that their dinner was only filled with the barest of conversation.

Suffice it to say that she went upstairs early and that he followed knowing that tonight would be hard for her.

Suffice it to say that they had laid upon the bed together.

As the night drew on, all Carrot could do for her was wrap her in his forelegs and tuck her deeper into the crux of his body.

All that Carrot could do was draw his hoof through her mane and across her shoulders as she began to cry.

All he could think to do as her small sobs filled the room was kiss her neck and cheek, tell her over and over how much he loved her.

The only thing he could do for her as they lay there in the dark was tell her how beautiful she was, and that he would never stop trying to make her happy.

Cupcake heard all of these things, knew in her heart that he meant them. In spite of that she could not stop her tears. They kept flowing, and before her eyes the figure of a little earth pony colt seemed to share them, as though it somehow knew that it would now never be made real.

In her mind's eye, the colt left their room. As it left them, it carried away all of the hopes she had, all of the dreams that they had shared. Their hopes of their love being made physical seemed to wash away with the little colt, follow him down the stairs.

As the tears fell from her, she imagined the colt too dripping, his little cries carrying away with him baby names, thoughts about diaper bags, teething rings, and milk bottles…

He looked back up the stairs and cried for her, but she could not follow. With that the colt gave a small sob and stepped outside, dissipating from her thoughts and leaving the bakery once again quiet and still.

With that they lost the second round of "The Game of This."

They had decided over the next week to tell their parents and family of their difficulty on the same day, at the same time even, simply to be done with it in one terrible instant.

Although it ripped at Carrot not to be with her when she told her family that the magic was not answering them, that there was a very real chance that they may never have children, Carrot respected her choice. Carrot trusted to her decisions as he always had.

They kissed beneath the doorway, touched their cheeks together. With that they went off to their childhood homes to drop the simple, horrible truth upon their families.

Cheesecake's face ran with tears as her son told her the fact that there may never be grandchildren in her life.

She gathered her amber-coated son to her and rocked him as best she could despite how much taller than her he was.

For Cheesecake there would be no second chance… that was what she feared. No redemption through the children of her child. No chance to be a grandmother, to redeem the years she had wasted not being a mother.

Her tears for her son and daughter-in-law grew greater as Carrot lowered his head over his mother.

At the big house on the other side of town, Cupcake's nieces and nephew were ushered outside to play in the autumn air around the garden as the hint of bad news flew through the eyes of the adults within.

As soon as Cupcake had begun to speak, she broke down. As she cried, her mother, father, and sisters held her.

Though all of them felt for her and were worried for her, only one's mind flew to places he had thought that were already extinguished.

In his mind old worries opened up, ones that centered on his family, his family that he must be allowed to defend.

With that he kissed his daughter, and under the guise of checking upon his grandchildren, he slipped back out into the streets of Ponyville, his thunderous hooves crashing upon the cobblestones as he trotted towards a familiar building.

Carrot had returned to Sugar Cube Corner earlier, just as he had expected. He had known that it would not take him as long to break the news to his mother as Cupcake would take with her family. He had returned home first even though he had made a single stop.

He placed what he had collected into the bottom of the cash register, thought that he would keep it there until the time seemed right or until she discovered them first. Either way he did not anticipate looking at them again soon.

He checked the pies, cakes, the cannoli stack, and the pastries. They were all still there. It was as though nothing had changed.

The bell rang upon the door. Sliding behind the counter Carrot looked up, glad for the distraction of having a customer to draw his mind off of his thoughts.

"Hello! Welcome to Sugar Cu…" he began.

The face of Quarry stared back at him, impassionate and distant.

"Mister Quarry, sir," said Carrot, "I… did, Cupcake catch you before, before you came here? We-we have some news…"

"I heard it, Cake," said his father-in-law. Quarry's hooves sounded out as he looked around the showcase room and turned back to face the amber stallion behind the counter.

Quarry ran his hoof through his mane and looked to Carrot over the bridge of his nose. "She's up there right now, the mares all cryin' and whimperin'… How is it that you're here, Cake?"

Carrot startled and looked to Quarry as the massive stallion eyed him with an expression Carrot couldn't name.

"I-I went to tell my mother," he answered.

"How'd she take it?" asked Quarry as he took a few steps closer.

"Not good," answered Carrot. "Not to terribly well at all."

"Are you gonna leave her?" came the voice of the stallion, the low rumble Carrot had heard upon their first meeting in the mill. It was a demand for retrieval of information, cold, impersonal… dangerous.

"What? Who? My mother?" asked Carrot, not understanding the question in the least, the very context of it escaping him.

"Cupcake!" answered Quarry as he stomped one of his hooves to the wooden floor, making display cases rattle and a distant cupcake fall to the floor.

"What? Sir, I can't even…" said Carrot as disgust flew through him, as he realized what this immense stallion was implying.

"Are you gonna leave mah' Little Cupcake, Cake? You gonna take off on her because she can't give you foals?" said Quarry as his face began to twist, the redness growing in his eyes.

Yet, it was not rage that hung there, none of the wrath that Carrot had seen upon Quarry before.

It was worry. It was deeply pronounced worry and fear.

"We, we can still have foals, it's just… the doctor said that…" Carrot stammered.

Quarry's hooves slammed to the floor, his eyes coming alight as the clatter of his mass shook the pillars and made the carefully arranged cannoli stack come tumbling down.

"Answer the buckin' question, Cake! I'm tryin' mah' hardest to stay civil, and I'm tryin not to get mad! But I need to know what in the Well yer' gonna do! Are you gonna leave mah' Little Cupcake!?" roared Quarry with his mane tossing around him.

An emotion filled Carrot as he sat under Quarry's glare, one that he did not often feel, one that did not make up a large part of his life.

Yet, what this stallion, this pony he only wanted to respect him was accusing him of… it burned behind Carrot's eyes. The emotion filled him.

With that Carrot became angry. Very, very angry.

"Buck you, Quarry! Buck you hard!" he screamed as he tore the cap from his head and flung it across the room.

"I'm not some udder-sucking little breeder who's only in this for my genes!" he roared, leaning forward into the glare of his father-in-law. "For two years all I've wanted was for you figure out that I'm bucking living for her, that she's my world! I know you grew up pretty damned well screwed over, but I had no idea how deep in the Well you've been bucked if you can't see that!"

Carrot bashed his hooves against the cash register, flung the cash drawer aside to reveal the pamphlets he had only placed there moments before.

As the bits sounded out across the floor he tossed the pamphlets in front of Quarry, pointing them out as he glared at the immense stallion. " Foster parenting! Adoption!" he cried. "I'm trying everything, you damn old goat licker! All I want is for her to be happy! It's all I've wanted since the day I first saw her in the mill! I-I'm trying everything! You want to see what's in the garbage can in the upstairs bathroom? You won't like it!"

Quarry's eyes shifted back and forth over the pamphlets as the under-biting stallion rambled on, growing weaker as his rant continued. As Cake began to lose steam, Quarry realized that the gangly stallion had now surpassed the combined time of all who had dared yell at him since he was twelve years old.

He listened with a cold glare as Carrot slowly fell out of his tirade and began to fall exhausted over the counter.

As he looked over the stallion, an emotion moved inside Quarry.

"… I-I just… just want to make her happy…that's all I've ever wanted," finished Carrot, "I had hoped you'd bucking see that by now, you old bastard… all I want is for you to know that… all I've ever wanted from you…"

Carrot looked up to see Quarry still staring down over him, something hidden behind his cold glare.

In that moment Carrot realized he had just been yelling at Quarry. In his mind he pictured this not ending well.

There was a sudden rush of movement, and Carrot opened his eyes to the peculiar sense that he was flying.

The large old stallion began to make a noise, one that sat somewhere around a sigh wrapped in a sob and encased in a bawl.

Quarry stood on his hind legs, his rigid mane almost brushing the ceiling of the bakery.

Carrot felt himself wrapped in the most uncomfortable hug he had ever experienced in his life.

Carrot's rear legs still lay upon the counter, his stomach and barrel hovering in the air. His chest and head were pressed up against the large frame of Quarry.

The older stallion danced his hooves, the loud sound ringing out around the room. Carrot felt himself begin to slip. As he did, his forelegs went to the only place they could… around the neck of the stallion and to his withers, embracing his father-in-law in one of, if not the, most awkward hugs in Equestrian history.

"I just wanted her tah' be safe," snorted Quarry as his hybrid sounds of emotion reached out and over them, "can't bring mahself to ever really believe that somepony don't want somethin' from her, from us…"

Carrot, firmly buried in the mammoth stallion's chest, hung there wide-eyed and attempted to pat Quarry on the back.

"Couldn't make sense of it at all, of you," continued Quarry while he rocked Carrot back and forth, "but I ain't so stupid I can't see it. I had tah' ask ya', needed to get in yer' head…"

Carrot then saw the point of Quarry's visit. He needed to see Carrot's love for his daughter again, to prove to himself that love was real outside the small definition he had set for himself. Quarry had needed it to be real in places other than behind the gates of the fortress he had built.

"I just, needed to see it again, to know it, Carrot. Oh, Celestia! I'm sorry Carrot, you're so good to her, so good to mah' Little Cupcake! You're a good son, Carrot… you're a good son!" Quarry concluded, very nearly crushing Carrot as he wrapped him deeper in his embrace.

Everything about the statement swam through Carrot. The way he had called him "Carrot" instead of "Cake." The way he had admitted that he saw their love, saw the lines of causality that bound him to Cupcake. The way he had left out "in-law" and had only called Carrot "son."

No stallion had ever called Carrot "son."

Ever.

Quarry pulled Carrot gingerly over the counter and helped him to his hooves. As the day wore away the two stallions stood there as emotions flew between them.

"Mister Quarry, sir, I…" began Carrot.

"Dammit all, Carrot," interrupted Quarry as his jaw shifting back and forth before settling into a smile, "just call me Quarry."

"Quarry…" said Carrot, returning the smile.

At that moment the bell above the door rang. Cupcake entered to the sight of her husband and her father standing there with tears upon their faces, the cash register flung open, and various baked goods having fallen from their racks.

"What, what is going on?" she asked as Carrot dove for the countertop and seemed to tuck some pamphlets away. At the same time, Quarry attempted to hide a fallen cupcake, apparently by stomping upon it so hard that it vaporized.

"Nothing!" the two called in unison, big fake smiles appearing on their otherwise tearful faces.

She eyed them dubiously.

That had been a hard day, a hard day on many fronts.

They lay upon the bed together as the mattress shifted beneath their weight.

Their nightly attempts had ended that night after they had come home from the doctor. For the last week all that she had wanted was to lie with her hooves wrapped in his, and so Carrot did just that, trying to draw out her pain.

Cupcake stood and left the bed to go and sit in front of the window. She stared out across Ponyville, the moonlight catching across the thatched roofs of the little city.

He watched her sitting there in the moonbeams. Her soft tones were muted in the darkness of the bedroom, and she seemed somehow like she had shrunk over those few hard days that had cumulated with the reveal to her family.

Carrot spun and rested his body across the foot of the bed. He began to speak to her softly.

Yes, he said, it had not gone as they had planned or as they had wished. They had a right to be sad… they had so many wonderful hopes, had pictured how it might look.

He lifted his head and spoke to her as she still peered out the window. There was no fault here, no blame. This was something beyond their control, something over which they had no power.

This was something that he was not afraid of.

Cupcake turned and looked at him. There she saw her husband's head upon the mattress, peering up to her with consoling eyes.

He was not afraid, he said, because she was going through this hard time with him. The only way he would ever be afraid was if she somehow were not there… that she would go somewhere without him.

She turned around fully and laid her head upon the bed so that she looked into his eyes as he spoke.

Their marriage, their love, it was a journey… one that he had pledged to go on with her. It was one that had already led them to so many wonderful places.

Yes, one border had been shut to them, one place they had strived to reach had been closed off and put out of their grasp. They would put away the baby name books and the few toys. They would repackage the crib, if just for now, but the journey itself would go on…

She leaned forward and gave him a tiny kiss.

There were so many places, he told her, that this journey could take them.

"… and wherever you want to go," he said, repeating a promise first spoken in that room, "I'll go there with you."

She stood and looked down at him as he lay there smiling to her gently.

"Oh? And where do you think we should go first?" she said, peering down at him with the wicked little smile that he adored. "Where does the journey go from here?"

"Uhhh, how about," he said as he lifted his hoof to her, "we, ummm… how about we start by exploring the great and unknown continent that is our bed?"

Her laughter rang out around the darkened room. It continued as she wiped her hoof across his face. The comment had been ridiculous, but spoken just so… and his smile still reached for her.

How could she refuse to partake in such a daring expedition?

So with that, they did.

The New Girl

Chapter 14: The New Girl

Cup Cake had lost track of the number of times that they had worked together to make a gingerbread house. Basic math would say that they had been married for more than ten years, and that should be just about the same number as houses that they had made.

But if the truth were known, there had been more than that. Sometimes they had made several in a year. Some years they had worked late into the night and early into the next morning in their efforts to meet deadlines.

Sometimes they had finished their work and collapsed right there in the morning sunlight that came in through the big picture window. They had let it wash over them as they slumbered together in its warmth.

A smile lifted from her as she thought of all of their little tricks, of all the little practiced motions that they had learned to employ when working together.

They had become more than just little habits. They had expanded and become almost more like traditions.

As those years had sped by, they had remained there ready for one another at all times, always able to feel the needs, fears, and wants of the other. It was as though they just seemed to know what the other was thinking and feeling.

It was the little things that mattered. Those signaled the way their lives had melded so completely. The traditions that they employed as they made these gingerbread houses proved it.

That was the reason why the dollop of frosting was sitting inside her mind, the way it still sat upon his nose as they worked calling out to her. It was because it was new, something unexpected that suddenly it was taking on a sort of meaning.

She knew it was remarkably silly to feel that way, but as the morning began to fade and the gingerbread house neared completion, she felt herself contemplating it more… wondering what it truly meant that he had not removed it.

She smiled a little smile and went back to finishing up the gingerbread house.

The stage directions would once again read that time had moved forward but that the scene had not changed.

Time had settled around the ponies that had played in both rounds of "The Game of This." Soon almost a decade had flown by.

For some players, the change had been obvious. Almost a decade had turned the nephew and nieces of Carrot and Cupcake, Ruby's children, into teenagers.

They had perhaps stopped being so cute, but they had grown up strong and smart. The oldest mare was studious and intellectual, the colt perhaps a touch rowdy, the youngest mare a lover of art and music. For each had come a mark, the magic of the land displaying itself upon them… the seal of the sovereign.

For Ivory Script, careful planning and hard work had paid off. Amid a wild celebration, she had won her first term as mayor, perhaps the youngest in the history of Ponyville.

For the senior players time had also moved as expected, and Ledger and his wife found themselves perhaps not so sprightly, perhaps more willing to let Trammel run things at the mill on certain days of the week.

Cheesecake and Wishing Well seemed to be defying time itself. As the two mares rebuilt their old friendship, it seemed almost as though it was fueling both of them.

For Quarry came new aches and pains. The old stallion saw more grey than black in his mane each time he looked in the mirror.

But what of the principal actors, the two who had sat upon that bed nearly a decade earlier and had promised to go on the journey together?

For Carrot, life looked much different as he sat upon the precipice of his early thirties. He had struggled to make his bakery grow, yet it seemed that true prosperity had remained just out of his reach.

He could not complain. He was providing for them. Or, more accurately, he was doing his part towards their plans and hopes.

For Cupcake life had not been as sad as she had feared it would be when she was sitting upon the examination table using tissue after tissue.

They were living for each other, each of their acts supporting the other. While they were hardly wealthy, she was happy, and the journey had taken them to amazing new places.

They had traveled, seen far away cities and even distant lands. They still received New Year's greetings from a delightful peryton couple who had taken them on a month long trip through Cervia.

They had returned to that small village in the swamp many times. They had kept the good friends there who always sent gifts. Crates of oranges and citrus had arrived as each winter set in, the fruits a welcome addition to their goods to be sold in the bakery.

But the greatest joy for her, and for Carrot, had been watching their nieces and nephew grow.

Now they were adolescents and their trips to Sugar Cube Corner were growing less frequent. The icebox door was starting to look rather bare without the gifts that had once been presented by smiling faces to a beaming uncle and a delighted aunt.

Together they had been many places and seen many things. Through their struggles they never stopped trying to be there for one another… never stopped finding excuses to press their hooves together and draw a heart around the symbol they had created.

Yet, as their world had drawn on into their second decade together, they could not help but wonder if there was someplace they were supposed to be going on this journey. What was their expedition together going to discover?

There was no way for them to know that they were the destination, that they were the point to which strings of causality were being drawn.

"Later grandpa!" called the colt, Quarry barely even seeing his grandson flash out the door.

The stallion turned to reply, but the door had already slammed shut, leaving him once more alone in the kitchen.

"Later," he said to the empty room.

He woke Wishing Well, and to his immense relief, she seemed to wish to walk today, her condition seeming to be at an ebb. It came and went, the battle between the magics deep within her, and as truces seemed to be called, he happily watched her regain something of her strength.

Quarry wished her a good day and gave her a kiss. With that he was out the door and on the way to his office.

The warm summer sun fell over the stallion as he walked along. He sneered, let it sit on his face as he made his way up the cobblestone streets. The expression was enough to send certain ponies who remembered "the old Quarry" walking to the other side of the street.

The expression was not meant to scare anypony. Instead it was directed within. Quarry was sneering at himself, cursing his old joints that did not want to move as directed, welcoming the warmth of his sovereign's sun to sit deep in his bones.

He looked older than he was… felt every bit older too. His massive frame still was imposing, the dart of his eyes still enough to raise alarm in those caught in them… but, he was older. To Quarry he felt like an old ship whose timbers were groaning, a ship that had begun to leak in places deep and not easily fixed, perhaps fatally so.

Paperclip greeted him as he entered the Hospitable Loan & Trust, his flagship business and the one he had always tended personally.

His oldest colt—the one living with his own growing family in Manehattan—he had taken over almost all the others. Only this one and his co-operative with the rock farmers were still truly his own to guide.

Quarry took the mail from her as they went over the schedule for the day and chatted about any number of things. As they did, he watched the new goldfish circle in the bowl. He tried to remember which incarnation of "Bubbles" this one was, each succeeding inheritor of the bowl keeping the traditional name.

With that he took his coffee into the small, unadorned office and gave a deep sigh. As he did, he wondered if there was anypony out there who was aging as poorly as he was.

Inside an instant he got his answer.

The bell above the door rang out, the familiar sound causing him to lift his eyes over the schedule. There was not supposed to be anyone in for over an hour. The schedule was mostly bare that day.

He ran his hoof through his graying mane and listened for the tone that Paperclip would take as she met whoever had just arrived.

To his surprise it was a happy one. As soon as her muffled voice had sung out, he recognized the owner of the other voice as well.

With a grunt he lifted himself from the chair and walked back to the door. As he opened it, he discovered the face of an old friend…

… a face that was set with deep concern. Eyes that age alone had not sunken sat beneath a faded hat. Quarry could see something painful there, something that seemed to be eating away at this earth pony, one of his few close friends.

"Clyde?" asked Quarry. "What can we do for you, ma' friend?"

The figure of Clyde turned from Paperclip and set Quarry with a distant stare, one that actually made the stallion blanch.

"Oh, Quarry, me bucko," said Clyde as he held his hat against his chest and wavered on his hooves, "I am sorry, me old friend, but have to ask you a favor. In Celestia's name, me old mate, I hate to do it but I have no pony else to whom I can turn…"

Quarry nodded. With a grunt he motioned to Clyde with his hoof.

"Ain't no shame in asking for help," he said while gesturing over his shoulder. "That's why we have friends. C'mon into my office, Clyde, let's get a fix on what's troubling ya'…"

The two stallions entered Quarry's austere office, the larger of the two sliding once more into his hard wooden chair with a distinct sound of effort. He began to wish that he had switched to soft pillows a long time ago, thought to himself that any advantage it gave him to have his applicants sitting awkwardly upon the seats was no longer worth being so uncomfortable.

As Quarry settled in, he looked Clyde over. In the glaring lights of his office, the features of the other earth pony came into stark relief.

Quarry flinched a bit to see how shrunken he appeared, how his mane appeared to be falling out and how ballooned his stomach had become.

He had noticed these things, of course, over the last few years. He hadn't mentioned them out of politeness… and in the hope that not mentioning them would somehow spare him from having to recognize his own growing age.

As Quarry's eyes met Clyde, an awareness fell through him. It wasn't just age that was doing this to Clyde. There was something more.

"My Pinkie," spoke Clyde as he gave a single tremble, "Quarry, she's dyin'! I'm killing her, Quarry!"

Quarry blanched again and shook his head. "Clyde," he spoke while the trademark rumble came out of his voice, "what… damn, what do you mean?"

Clyde seemed to collapse within himself, his eyes seemed to fall away and stare off towards a horizon that the blank walls of Quarry's office hid from all but his perception.

"My Pinkie Pie, the one with the balloons as her mark," he began as Quarry pictured the bouncy pink pony in his head, "I can't do anything else for her Quarry, me bucko, she's used me up…"

For the next few minutes Quarry listened as one of his oldest friends told him a story, one that slowly revealed a sad truth.

Pinkie Pie had remained herself, yet had become more so. Clyde spoke of how the farm could no longer contain her powerful abilities, how her laughter had seemed at first to fill them but how it had now overwhelmed them.

Clyde spoke of her somehow sensing things, a set of senses that seemed to supercede even her mark, how it at first had fascinated them but now seemed poised to overcome them.

As Quarry listened, his jaw shifted back and forth. Clyde told him that the other girls, Inkie and Blinkie, who had once reveled in Pinkie's abilities as fillies tired of it as young mares. Strife had entered the little white farmhouse, robbing it of the joy it had once echoed through it.

"She'd come bouncin' into the house one day wit' an advert looking for kumquat farmers down in the southlands," Clyde said as he wiped his hoof across the forehead, rubbing it raw and red. "She said that it seemed like fun to say 'kumquat'' so that it must be fun to farm the fruits. Oh! My Celestia, Quarry! They sent her back to us! They couldn't deal with her! Our poor dear Pinkie coming off the train a sobbing mess..."

Quarry's jaw shifted back and forth.

Clyde spoke of ten years' worth of trying, doing everything that they could think of to help their Pinkamena. The way they had struggled to find somepony who could help her explore her mark, yet how those ponies had all gone pelting off, smeared with frosting.

Clyde spoke of the special summer camp for those trying to understand their marks... the way he'd gone to pick her up only to find buildings aflame and filled with popcorn.

"I can't help her anymore, Quarry," said Clyde as he lifted his face back to his friend, "Roxy, me poor suffering wife, she and I can't keep up with her… none of us are so young anymore. She's only getting stronger, seemingly without constraint, needs somepony to lead her in her mark…"

Clyde gave another shudder, closed his eyes and looked to Quarry with some small horror hidden behind his eyes.

"There's not been a chicken hatched at a farm within twelve miles o' ours that ain't had a birthday party for three years! Two days ago I came home to see her throwin' a party for some rocks and a bag of flour, Quarry! A buckin' bag o' flour!" wailed Clyde, his curse being the first Quarry had heard from him in their long friendship.

"Quarry, please, I need your help," Clyde spoke again, fixing his sunken eyes upon Quarry once more. "She's dyin' out there on my farm! There's naught I can do for her and she's sufferin' for it… I don't know what to do for her!"

Quarry looked to Clyde; saw the very real worry that rested there, the worry of a father for his family. He was more than familiar with it.

As Clyde continued to tremble and shake, Quarry leaned back and let a slow sigh escape him. Of course he would help, but how? The pink filly's mark was one of exuberance, joy… partying. That was something he himself wasn't much good at, and he doubted Paperclip was interested in breaking in a new girl here at the office.

His mind wandered, thought of what parties involved. Balloons, streamers, punch, cakes…

Cakes.

"I think I might have somethin' for her," Quarry spoke as he nodded to Clyde, "but I gotta run it by mah' son-in-law."

As he watched, something seemed to settle within Clyde, as though life was returning to him, the possibility itself lifting his broken spirit.

As short while later, Quarry was trotting through the street once more, this time making for Sugar Cube Corner.

He had admitted to Carrot long ago that he preferred the new name, but when he asked what had inspired it all he got was a few giggles and a blush. He let the matter drop as a knowing look had passed between his daughter and the stallion that he had taken to calling "son."

He reached the store, skidding to a stop across the cobblestones.

Quarry sighed, knew that he was about to break one of his old rules. Favors. He hated asking for favors, hated being asked for them even more. Friends mattered though… and so many of the old rules were already dead to him.

With that Quarry entered Sugar Cube Corner.

There were already a few customers within. As he waited for them to clear, he looked deep within a glass bell jar and studied the éclairs within. He pondered the face of an old grey-maned stallion that stared back at him even more.

This Quarry was a vastly different stallion than Mean Quarry in many ways. Though the massive frame still stood around him, he knew that much of the power had come out of it, and much of his rage with it.

He knew that it had been replaced with something else, something far more valuable. He saw his own mark, the ladder coming out of a pit of rock, reflected in a distant showcase. He thought about how like his own mark he was… he was hard, but he'd been pulled up by something. Something that the amber-colored stallion that now called to him had helped reveal.

"Quarry!" called Carrot. "Good to see you, can I get you something? Let me grab Cupcake and tell her that you're here…"

"Hold on that for one second, son, I need to talk to ya' fer' a bit. Oh, and ya' can wrap me up a éclair, too," he said, placing emphasis on the first letter of the treat. He rolled the "e" in a long tone as he lifted his hoof to Carrot, calling him closer.

As Carrot wrapped the éclair, he alternated between preparing it and listening to his father-in-law, letting the entirety of what the stallion was asking him grow upon him.

"I have a good friend, one who's got troubles," said Quarry with his low rumbling tone evident, "one of his foals has grown up strong in their mark, and he's got no clue what to do. Since the kid's mark is for partying and the like, and that more often than not leads to eatin' and such, I thought of you…"

Quarry stopped, shifted his jaw back and forth, let the uncomfortable word prepare itself before dropping it out over the room.

"I'm-I am wonderin' if you'd do me a favor… do-do ya' need an apprentice?" he said with an uncharacteristic stutter.

Carrot nodded back to Quarry. "Well," he said, "I have always wondered what it would be like to have one, and I'm certainly not opposed. A friend of yours is a friend of mine, of course! I-I'll have to ask Cupcake first, but I'm more than happy to help… I won't say no to a little help around here! Let's have him send the colt around and we'll…"

"Filly… more of a young mare, in point o' fact," interrupted Quarry, looking down at Carrot as the stallion handed him his éclair. An expression wavered across Carrot's face, one that Quarry reflected upon as he awaited the reply of this stallion he had taken as family.

"Well-well, I'm not opposed, but… but I can't bring anypony into this house without Cupcake's opinion. I especially won't bring a young mare into our home without her saying it's okay. I, I hope you understand…" said Carrot as he looked to his father-in-law.

Carrot felt Quarry pat him on the shoulder.

"Ya' got a way of knowing the right thing tah' say at the right time, you know that, son?" said Quarry with a chuckle. "Don't worry on it too much, it's somepony she knows. If there's anything I can do for you, don't be afraid to say so, Carrot."

The two turned towards the kitchen, and began making for the pantry. Quarry heard his daughter humming in the room beyond, her tone only seeming to have gotten sweeter over the near decade that had passed since these two were married. It seemed more like her mother's before Wishing Well became ill.

As they passed through the kitchen Quarry heard Carrot clear his throat, his hooves coming to a slow stop across the wooden floors.

"Actually," said Carrot while once more meeting Quarry's gaze, "there is one thing… something that I'd wonder if you'd consider doing for me."

Quarry left Sugar Cube Corner smiling, the big éclair dangling from his mouth in its little bag. There was good news for Clyde.

Upon reaching the Hospitable Loan & Trust, Quarry deposited the éclair in front of Paperclip and informed her to cancel the rest of his appointments for the morning.

Turning once more back out into the street, the big old stallion felt himself becoming slightly winded, what with all of the walking he was doing today.

He laughed at himself as he turned back down a familiar road, one that led him to his own doorway.

Upon entering, he went on quiet hooves to the living room. There Wishing Well sat in front of the fireplace, the space within absent of flames as the warmth of spring washed through the house.

He approached her quietly, thought of how lonely she looked without her grandchildren around her. As he did he realized that Carrot's request certainly had merits. With that he nuzzled her gently.

"Darlin'," he whispered as he touched his nose to her shoulder, leaving a small kiss on her cheek.

"Oh! Quarry," came Wishing Well's voice as she awakened from her nap, "is it that late? No, it is hardly even noon! You've come home so early!"

"Heh, that's true, Darlin', that's true," he said as he sat in front of her. "Just had a talk with Clyde, and then with the kids… Cupcake and Carrot, that is."

He grumbled a bit, tried to shake some growing stiffness out of his legs.

"Feels like I been walkin' all damned day!" he laughed as he turned his back to her. She knew intrinsically what he was asking for in the way that all old married couples do.

As she kneaded her hooves across his back, he told her about Clyde's dilemma, about how Cupcake and Carrot had agreed to take in Clyde's energetic daughter as an apprentice.

He told her about Carrot's request, gathering her hooves around his shoulders and leaning back to her as he did.

After they had discussed it for a good long while, they agreed. With that Quarry stood, and together they went off through the streets of Ponyville. As Quarry pushed his wife through the small city, the wheels sounded out happily over the stallion's complaints about all of the walking he was being asked to do that day.

Before long they had arrived at a small house, and the strain of that tiny word once more fell over him.

Wishing Well watched Quarry pace back and forth, knew that conversations of the type they were about to have didn't come easy to him.

"It's alright, Love," she said while reached up to touch her nose to his. "The worst she can say is no, and then nothing much will change…"

"I'll feel bad for Carrot, though," he said as he knocked upon the door. "It's a right proper stallion who puts his mother first."

With that a surprised Cheesecake opened the door to her small home and welcomed them inside.

Quarry did his best to sit politely as the mares talked. They had just seen each other the weekend before. He wondered where they got so much to talk about in such a short period of time.

He looked down at the tray before him. Upon it stood just a few crackers and slices of cheese. He got the distinct impression that it was all the food that was within the house.

He looked to the mares and wondered how they were aging so gracefully, what with Wishing Well being sick and Cheesecake not eating very well. He lifted his mug, took a long sip and then cleared his throat.

The mares looked to him.

"I… don't mean to interrupt," he said as he intentionally interrupted, "but we ain't just here on a social call, Cheesecake."

"Oh, oh… I-I'm sorry, I've been going on," floated Cheesecake's voice, the ethereal tone hovering over the room. "Please, what can I do for you two?"

Quarry cleared his throat once more and told her the story of his unusual day, accentuating how much walking he had been doing, and told her that her son had made a request.

"And, ummm… oh, what did Carrot ask you about?" she said as she looked to each in turn.

Quarry rubbed his hoof through his mane, looked at her over the bridge of his nose.

"Well, Cheesecake, your boy is powerful worried for you, living here all alone. None of us are getting any younger, after all," he began.

"He's always looked out for his mother," she said, smiling back to him, "he's always been so good to me. But, what does that have to do with you two?"

"Well, seein' as Wishing Well and yourself get along so well, and I hate having her alone most of the day now, what with the grandkids off at academy and Ruby out of the house most of the day… well," Quarry cleared his throat, "well, Cheesecake, we were wondering if you'd do us the favor of considering comin' to live with us in that big ole' house of ours."

Cheesecake opened her mouth, but no words came. She felt Wishing Well's hooves wrap up in hers. She looked down into the face of her dear friend.

"Do consider it, Cheesy. I should love to have you about, and we would be most accommodating," said Wishing Well as she patted Cheesecake on the hoof. "It would be so wonderful to have you with us…"

Cheesecake smiled and laid her head to that of Wishing Well.

An hour later Quarry was grumbling his way back through the streets to Sugar Cube Corner to tell Cupcake and Carrot the good news. His shoulders went stiff as he did.

He returned to his office and leaned back against the chair for a grand total of about five minutes before his aches and pains got to him. He told Paperclip to cancel his afternoon appointments and with that went out into the spring air.

Upon his porch was a proper sofa. As Wishing Well dozed nearby in her wheelchair, he put a soft kiss upon her forehead and lay out upon the welcome expanse.

As the warm spring breezes tousled his rigid grey mane, he complained to nopony about how all of the walking was beating him up. With that he left his aches and pains behind as he fell into a well-deserved nap.

A little voice drifted on the breeze. "Thank you, you have no idea how important that was," it spoke as it drifted on the breeze. "You cannot know how much that mattered. Thank you, my child, rest well…"

Not quite a week later Carrot stood at the top of his stairs doing some light cleaning, wanting to have Sugar Cube Corner ready for the appearance of their new resident.

Behind him and down the hall, Cupcake finished laying linens in the bathroom, the one now especially set-aside for their apprentice.

Many thoughts went through the two, and the few small memories Cupcake had of a pink filly did little to calm Carrot's concerns and answer his questions.

As he finished sweeping the upstairs hallway, the bell above the door rang, and he placed the broom aside, knowing that at this late hour it could only be their new arrival.

He turned and faced down the stairwell. To his amazement the sound of excitement seemed to erupt from the downstairs. The sudden presence of a new energy was wrapped in it, one that seemed to fly up the stairs and buffet him in its winds.

With that began the third round of "The Game of This."

He trotted down the stairs, straightening himself up as he went.

Arriving at the bottom of the stairs, he had expected to find some young mare cautiously standing there, perhaps even a little teary-eyed at being away from home.

His perceptions were blown away as he witnessed a small stack of suitcases lying jammed in and around the door. Inside his showcase room a form of energy seemed to have been unleashed, perhaps some kind of magic spell or even a natural phenomenon like ball lightning seemed to be bounding about.

It was only after a moment of contemplation that he realized that it was a pink mare, one who seemed to be going from stand and stack and back while naming all of his treats in quick succession.

"… and cream puffs and almond tarts and macaroons and…"

He watched as she seemed to bounce around, seemed to be trying to expend an energy that was cascading through her. He looked on in amazement as she continued to spring from one decorated confectionary to the next.

"… and Chiffon cake and Black Forest cake and, and Mr. Carrot Cake!"

Carrot turned his head to see her looking right at him with a massive smile.

"Oh! Hello! Yes, I am Carrot Cake, and I take it that…" he began.

She had one of his hooves in hers before he had even completed the sentence. She stood there, dancing on her rear hooves as she seemed to try to spin him around, tried to sing as she did…

"Oh, it's a land of treats, and a land of cakes, Oh, I've found that nothing beats…"

She suddenly stopped, looking more than a little defeated. Her expression changed so quickly that it startled him.

"Oh! And I was so sure that I had it that time!" she said with exasperation.

She turned to him again, regaining herself as she once more became happy and vibrant and another smile went across her face.

"Is that our Pinkie Pie?" came Cupcake's voice from the bottom of the stairwell, her tone lifting as she set eyes upon a young mare who looked so much like a little pink filly who had come frequently with her family to the big house. To her it was as though she was looking over a beloved little figure that she had babysat, one that had exploded into the form of a young mare.

Carrot looked on as Pinkie leapt for Cupcake, seemed to try to nuzzle her and hug her at the same time.

"Miss Cupcake, Miss Cupcake!" called Pinkie as she wrapped Cupcake tighter.

Carrot could not help but smile as these two mares renewed their acquaintance, as he saw something flow through Cupcake that he enjoyed seeing on her face very much.

"Oh, actually dearie, it's Mrs. Cupcake now! Have you met my husband, Mr. Carrot Cake?" asked Cupcake, releasing her hold on Pinkie.

"Uh huh! We went dancing, but I couldn't remember the song…" Pinkie exclaimed as she bounced around again.

Cupcake looked to Carrot quizzically. He simply shrugged his shoulders.

Before he could even lower his expression, this pink mare had bounded up to him one more time and now wrapped him in a hug as well.

Carrot blushed and tried to think of something to say. Before he even could do so, she was off again, bounding across the room to introduce herself to the pastries.

Cupcake and Carrot watched her for a moment, different emotions washing through them. As she went along, their eyes followed her as she seemed to be unraveling a whole new world, one that was full of excitement and new discoveries and suspiciously short on commas and periods.

"… and I can learn how to bake pastries and cookies and pies and that's really good because I'm Pinkie Pie and you're Carrot Cake and Cupcake and… Ohhh!"

Carrot's eyebrow arched as Pinkie seemed to stop in midair and turn to Cupcake.

"Hey! You should change your name to Cup Cake instead of Cupcake! Two words, and that way you could be mister and misses Cake, and then you would be the Cakes and you could make cakes and I'll make cakes too and that will be really neat except that my name is Pie… Pinkamena Diane Pie, actually, named after my Granny Pie who…"

As she continued, Carrot turned to his wife and smiled once more. Carrot expected her to share his growing sense of the absurdity. Instead she seemed to be lost in thought.

"Honey Bun?" he called to her, lifting his hoof.

"No thanks!" answered Pinkie Pie. "I'll eat later. I think I should get my things inside right now!"

Cupcake seemed to shake off her distraction and watched instead as Pinkie Pie gathered up a few of her belongings. She threw her smile between them as though wondering which would be the first to offer the next bit of excitement.

"Come along, Dearie," she said as she grasped Pinkie's hoof, "let me show you to your rooms, and then we'll take the ten bit tour, righty?"

"Okee dokee, but I'll have to pay you back the ten bits later," Pinkie answered as she followed Cupcake up the stairs.

Cupcake now offered the smile. She looked back down to where Carrot shrugged his shoulders. He lifted a few more suitcases and opened the door to see what she had left outside.

As he did something large, cylindrical, and rather unhappy looking stared back at him. He fumbled for the word, fought to bring it to the fore. When he did his statement sounded out into the street in a politely restrained panic.

"Is that a cannon?!"

After stowing the artillery piece in the downstairs den, he joined them as the tour moved from Pinkie's few new rooms and into the bakery as a whole.

As they watched, she seemed to launch into a convulsion. Shades of panic seemed to wash over Carrot and Cupcake. As soon as they moved to help her she stopped and looked back to them with yet another smile.

"Uh oh! Pinkie sense! Watch out for something falling… oh, and a door opening too!" she said with a smile.

Carrot and Cupcake tossed a look between them, not quite understanding what was going on.

"Pinkie sense?" asked Carrot.

"A door, Dearie?" asked Cupcake.

With that the folding door to the attic came open, lurching down over them with a clang and dumping a cloud of dust all across the couple until they stood there in it looking more like ghosts than ponies.

"Yup!" said Pinkie, walking between two distant rooms, appearing to enter one room and come out of a different one entirely. Pinkie looked up to see the two standing there, saw that as the door had fallen, Carrot had pulled his wife into him and had sheltered her.

Pinkie smiled at them as he lifted his foreleg from across her face, revealing the rosy eyes where something of a fond resemblance seemed to grow. "Awww!" intoned Pinkie, "what's up here?"

"Oh," said Carrot as his wife gently brushed the dust from his face, "just the attic…"

"Neato!" called Pinkie. "Let's take a looksee!"

Carrot had gingerly pulled himself up into the attic, bravely going first into a space not often used by him or his wife. He tripped a few times, the rickety old steps and the broken spring that had caused the collapse biting at him as he climbed.

A few items hovered around the entrance to the space: the Heart's Warming tree ornaments and magical lights, the fans for summer... a box of books containing baby names.

He looked upon this last one, different thoughts going through him as he waited for whichever mare would come up into the lofty space behind him.

"Whatcha doin' Mr. Carrot Cake?" came a voice out of nowhere.

The voice came from behind him, from out of the darkness of the attic beyond.

The singular effect was to cause him to yelp and jump in alarm… and fall back down the attic stairs.

Pinkie Pie looked down through the trapdoor to see a stunned Carrot Cake walking along in wobbly patterns as Cupcake brushed beside him, trying to steady him as his tongue stuck out the side of his head and metaphorical birds flew around him.

"Pinkie," Cupcake called up to her in surprise, "how did you get up there? You, you didn't go up the ladder…"

"I used the stairs at the end of the hall! Sorry about all of the old boxes and stuff, but that ladder doesn't look to safe to me! Why, it looks like it could fall down at any second!" she said, stating the obvious.

Almost in tune with her observation the second spring broke, earning Carrot's ire.

Carrot once again began to climb as Cupcake went off to research Pinkie's finding.

Carrot, now bruised and dirty, watched Pinkie as she jumped, swirled, and cavorted around the open space. He saw how happily she seemed to swim through the expanse of the attic. It was as though she longed for a release, a freedom he could not name.

He had never really thought about this space much. He had never seen it as much more than a large drafty room that stayed far too hot in the summer and got too cold in the winter.

As he stood by the old fireplace, stuffed tight with old newspapers and bits of insulation, he could only marvel at the freedom she seemed to be experiencing by just being in there… just being able to expend some of that marvelous energy.

"Careful for the door, Mr. Carrot Cake!" said Pinkie. Her voice reached for him and he watched as Pinkie gave another shake.

As sweat poured from his brow, he looked to the distant trapdoor of the attic stairway, locked it in his gaze.

Unfortunately it was the door beside the fireplace that came open, Cupcake unintentionally walloping him as she discovered the truth behind Pinkie's earlier discovery.

"Why, Carrot, it is true!" she said as she fought through the door, not realizing that the mass that she heaved and shoved against in frustration was the prostrate form of her husband, "We've been here for all of these years and we never knew that the old closet was a stairwell! Why, we can replace the boards and get rid of that nasty trapdoor! We can…"

Cupcake looked for him. She turned around at once to see her husband upon the floor with his tongue sticking out of his head, looking as though he had been having a hard afternoon indeed.

As Carrot recovered with his throbbing head resting in the lap of his wife, the two listened and watched as Pinkie continued to dance about the space. As Pinkie pulled some insulation away from one of the windows, she continued to voice her thoughts.

"… and we can have dances up here and we can throw parties and we can host buffets and we can rent it out and we can…"

Pinkie began to try to sing again, to give voice to her happiness. As she did, she once again shuttered to a stop and her hooves seemed to skid beneath her.

She deflated once more, the failure of her song and dance catching her and making her own magic seem to fade.

She turned and looked to Carrot and Cupcake as though wondering if they had seen how badly she had failed at her attempt.

Instead, Pinkie smiled. The two sat there once more covered in dust and cobwebs that had fallen from the window and beams above when the insulation had been pulled free of the panes and shutters.

"Wowie zowie, you two sure like to get messy!" she said while spinning once more and looking high overhead. "Oh! Is that a cupola?"

A short while later a very dirty and dingy Cupcake and Carrot Cake sat in the downstairs living room, the one located off of the kitchen and the den that doubled as the bakery office.

Together they shared the most bracing beverages that they had and looked to one another with subtle looks of surprise, concern, and hilarity.

At once Cupcake's ears perked up. Carrot followed her eyes as they looked to the ceiling.

Overhead, the sound of hooves sounded out, and the dull thud of a pony landing on a bed reached them as the spring evening dove into night.

A short while later, as some of the beverage definitely was seen to disappear from the decanter, a new sound filled their home and place of business. The sound of a sleeping pony drifted over the house, a pony that had very suddenly become a part of their lives…

… one that snored rather loudly.

The glasses chimed as they touched them to one another. As a soiled Cupcake tucked herself closer to a grimy Carrot Cake, they thought about how she had already made them ponder so many things.

Yes, they could use the attic to host parties. Why hadn't they thought of that?

The chance to open up their lives to somepony new… it was both exciting and at once terrifying. They were now both covered in dust and cobwebs. Carrot was even slightly bruised. There was a price to pay, this they realized… they had not simply been provided free labor.

There were real issues here, ones that would have to be resolved. A cannon sat a room away, after all, and they both wondered how she would react to some basic ground rules.

Even as they discussed what those rules would be, they could somehow sense that this was another part of the journey of their lives, that they were somehow been dealt another hand in "The Game of This."

No matter, it would all work out. In the end, there was a new pony in their lives. For all that it would involve, they both knew they wanted to feel what that was like, a chance to help somepony find her mark, to grow…

Overhead the sound of a snoring Pinkie Pie fell over them. As they looked to one another, dust toppled from them, and Carrot pulled a fine filament of cobweb from the hair of his wife.

Pinkamena Diane Pie had, they realized, been in their lives for a grand total of three hours.

"And you wanted kids!" Cupcake said in a chiding tone, smirking at him.

He laughed and gathered her in closer. As he did so, her smirk disappeared into a warm smile as their noses rubbed together for a great long while. With that they sat in their parlor and finished their drinks, wrapped close to one another as the sounds of the spring insects drifted in through open windows.

Vignettes

Chapter 16: Vignettes

The grey mailmare greeted Cup Cake, the eyes of the pegasus wobbling around as she passed her the letter.

As the pegasus pony winged away, Cup Cake let her gaze fall across an unfamiliar name that sat in the return address.

She opened it gingerly and laid it before her on the floor in the sunlight. As she sat and began to read, the words became large in her perception.

"Dear Mrs. Cake," it read, "I am writing to console you on the passing of your father, Quarry, these ten months ago. I am sorry to reach you on this matter so late after his death, but it has taken me so long to come to terms with it myself."

Cup Cake felt emotions rising up in her as she read this letter, as this complete stranger explained how her father had played a part in his life… how they had been partners, how he had lied to her father…

… how her father had reacted in the typical fashion of his younger days.

"I still walk with a limp," the letter continued, "and for most of my life I have lived both in fear of your father, in anger at his act that shattered my body, and in shame for what I did to him that set us upon that path."

Cup Cake felt herself wavering on her hooves as she dealt with the conflicting emotions that the letter was bringing forth. It only got worse as it continued.

"My son informed me more than a year ago that your father wished to make amends, had asked him to say 'Hello' in a genuine fashion," the letter went on, "and for months I was staggered by that fact. That your father was extending an olive branch went against everything that I knew of the stallion, or more accurately, everything that I had convinced myself was true."

Cup Cake's hoof went to her mouth.

"In the end I wished very much to write him, but I could find no words. That he would want to, I hoped, ask for forgiveness and offer it, that was more than I could comprehend. I had made my life by using ponies to my advantage. When we had our altercation that worldview was shaken. It had forced me to rely on others. In many ways his thrashing me about was perhaps the best thing to happen to me… and what I took as his attempt to rectify the gap between us seemed to complete the act."

Her eyes went moist as she continued to read.

"The pony who sat down to write you this letter is not the same one who your father detested, but is instead one that I can only hope deserved the forgiveness that he seemed to be offering, and that I would certainly have given. I am only saddened that my hesitancy cost me the chance to present this letter to him. I instead deliver it into the hooves of somepony he undoubtedly loved very much."

"Most Sincerely," the letter concluded, "Penny Pincher…"

Cup Cake gave a little huff of emotion as she lifted the letter and took it to the office. There she studied it again, ran her eyes over the words and tried to begin writing a reply.

Instead she found herself once more trotting back out into the showcase room, making long elliptical orbits of a display of macaroons before sitting once more in the sunlight that came in through the window.

Ten months after his death her father's life was reverberating, the strings of causality still pulling at ponies he had encountered across his decades.

"… somepony he undoubtedly loved very much," she repeated to herself.

At once a memory lifted through Cup Cake, Quarry lifting her in a vast hug as she presented him the cupcakes that had revealed her mark. The memory of his forelegs around her as he had scooped up his Little Cupcake, that feeling washed through her as the tears began.

She sat there sniffling in the sunlight and wishing very much for Carrot to return home from his errands, very much wanting to bury her head in her husband's chest and let him embrace her.

Although not as intimate, a figure that was also dear to her presented itself as Pinkie Pie bounced out from the kitchen. The mare seemed to screech to a halt as she saw Cup Cake sitting in the light and heard small sobs rising from her.

"Mrs. Cake!" called Pinkie, trotting to her at once and nuzzling beneath her chin, laying her head to that of the older mare. "What's wrong, what's wrong, what's wrong?"

"Oh, Pinkie Pie, I'm sorry, I'm… I'm just missing my daddy again, got a little letter about him, dont'cha know?" she said as she leaned into the puffy pink mane and let her head rest to the smaller mare as she offered her embrace.

Together they sat there, sharing little remembrances of the departed stallion as ponies went by the window. Pinkie recalled how he had always given her and her sisters cookies or candies when the family had come by the house or the office.

"I'm sorry, Pinkie," said Cup Cake, trying to smile as the tears still ran down her face, "I'm still weepy, don't quite know why…"

"That's okay," said Pinkie as she recalled something her own mother had said a long time ago, "it's okay to cry! It really, really, really is okay to cry. He was a great guy, and he earned every tear… but, he is happy now, I'm sure of it. I'm super-duper absolutely sure of it, Mrs. Cake…"

Cup Cake gave a small sigh and looked down to Pinkie. As she did, Pinkie smiled back up to her and touched her nose to the other mare gently. With that the two sat until Carrot returned, the stallion staring happily as two of the most important mares in his life greeted him at the door.

Pinkie Pie came bounding through the humid kitchen, mop and bucket at the ready.

As the pink mare went spinning and galloping through the space, she quickly worked to clear away any standing water. As she went, she explained her situation, explained how she had begun to take a bath but then realized that Gummy needed a bath before she left and that she did not want to leave dirty bed sheets behind over the holiday so she had tried to do all at once and on and on and on…

They could only smile at her as she stopped in mid-step, looked at them quizzically as they stood over the gingerbread house with their umbrellas.

Life with Pinkie Pie, it was a daring adventure, one that had added so much to their journey together…

…one that they would not have missed out on for all of the world.

As she ran her mop across everything, she sped off again, leaving them free to lower the umbrellas, certain that she would soon have the matter cleared up.

She had grown here in this bakery. She was stronger now, notwithstanding all that had happened in her own life. In fact all of the challenges that she and her friends had faced only seemed to strengthen her, a growth that they saw with relief and joy.

They watched her go with smiles across their faces, proud of the mare whose adult life had begun here under their watch, who they were stronger for having helped and guided.

Cup Cake looked up to her husband once more, still saw the white dollop of frosting sitting across his nose, and once more it found a place in her thoughts.

As they prepared to box up the gingerbread house, her happiness once more showed on her face as she wondered what exactly the fate of the spoonful of frosting would be…

Once upon a hard metal examination table, a beautiful mare had sat using tissue after tissue, her tears running down her hospital gown. As she waited for her body to stop throbbing in pain, many different thoughts ran through her head.

One of the thoughts was, if they were truly denied ever having foals of their own, what would their lives look like?

Nearly a decade later, she knew the answer to that question, knew that having Pinkie Pie in the bakery with them had provided them with somepony to fill that space. As Pinkie's network of friends grew, somehow they too were drawn into the world of the Cakes.

Not foals of their own, yet reasonable facsimiles on many levels. New faces came into their lives, ranging from the humble and meek to ponies whose powers they could hardly even ponder.

As she stood in the kitchen drying dishes, she could not know that the first such entrance was happening just on the other side of the swinging doors.

Carrot winced as he saw the deliver ponies attempt to bring the crate in through the front door.

As they did, it chipped the paint off of the frame and scuffed the wooden floor. As the unfolding tragedy revealed itself, the crate came to a sudden stop right in the middle of the showcase room of Sugar Cube Corner, much to his frustration and the bemusement of the few customers that were walking about.

"Hooray! It came, it came, it came!" called a Pinkie Pie who bounded joyfully around the crate, ending with her hooves held high above her. At once she looked to Carrot and fixed him in an inquiring stare. "What is it?"

He checked the packaging label to be sure. When he was certain, he called out to Cup Cake. "Honey Bun!" he spoke, his enthusiasm garnering her attention as she trotted out from the kitchen.

Pinkie Pie's enthusiasm was already evident. Even as Cup Cake approached, she was already pulling at the boards, seemed even to gnaw at them.

He pulled her away by her tail; making her drop the crowbar with which she had been about to assault the crate.

As was often the case, their lifelong friends they had made in the swamp upon their honeymoon had sent them another gift. As the smells of citrus rose from the crate, once more filling Sugar Cube Corner with the scent of things remembered.

They used some of the fruit in their own recipes, but the understanding of course was that some would be sold in the shop.

In reply went supplies of fine fabrics and goods not so easily found in Southern Equestria, the train speeding the well wishes between the distant friends who had always seemed as close as any they had ever made.

The only difference this time was that the crate was so vast!

Carrot took up the crowbar and used it in a much more gentle fashion than it seemed that Pinkie had been determined to use.

As he pulled away the boards, the reason for the vastness of the crate was revealed. Inside it stood a series of boxes rather than the traditional one or two, each one marked with what it contained.

"It kinda smells like the time that I worked on the kumquat farm," began Pinkie, bouncing around and trying to peer within, "and I remember the smell because I would always smell the kumquats when I woke up and when I went to sleep and I like to say kumquat..."

"Oh my!" interrupted Cup Cake as she looked over Carrot's shoulder while Pinkie bounced around behind them in an attempt to get a better view. "It must have been a good growing year!"

"Would you look at that!" began Carrot. "We have oranges, and nectarines, and lemons, limes and… "

He only had a split second to stare into the eyes of his assailant before it was upon him.

"… waaahaaggghhh!" cried Carrot, spinning wildly as something bit down upon him.

As Cup Cake and Pinkie looked on, Carrot went around and around the room with his voice high in alarm as something dangled from his nose, something that stared back at him with big purple eyes.

Slowly he began to calm, realizing that whatever it was it did not seem to be doing much. In truth it just sort of dangled there with a moist presence.

Eventually Carrot came to a standstill in front of Cup Cake and Pinkie Pie, emitting a low kind of whine of trepidation as his eyes went up to the mares and back to the creature that stood affixed to his muzzle.

"Why, it's a little alligator!" said Cup Cake, looking her husband over as her fear was washed away and was replaced by something more like pleasant surprise.

"Kin yew ghet im hoof mah nohds?" asked a dubious Carrot, tilting his head back and forth and staring cross-eyed at the little creature that still grasped at him. It stared back at him with purple eyes that seemed to blink in a manner that seemed out of synch with one another.

Gently Cup Cake and Pinkie pulled the alligator off of him, making reassuring noises as it somehow seemed to croak and chirp back at them.

To their surprise Pinkie coaxed it off and gathered it into her hooves, rubbed at its shoulders and along its stomach.

The little alligator made a croaking, chirping sound in reply. As she placed it on the floor, it simply stood there looking at them with its purple eyes.

"The poor little thing must be thirsty… oh, the boxes weren't even open, it must be famished too, don'tcha know!" said Cup Cake as she led Pinkie towards the kitchen.

Carrot Cake was once again left alone in the showcase room, the few customers having fled screaming out into the streets at the mention of the word "alligator."

Carrot crossed his eyes to study his nose. He was surprised that there were no scratches… could the little creature have no…

He leaned closer to where it sat in the middle of the floor and blinked. "Hey there!" he said in a quiet tone as he approached the little creature. "Say there, you aren't so bad, now are…"

As it hissed at him, he danced his hooves in place. He looked back to the kitchen as the mares returned.

"Oh, he's just scared and hungry and thirsty and he just needs somepony to look after him and take care of him and throw him parties and make him little outfits…"

As the Cakes watched, Pinkie Pie followed the creature around the room, her hooves seeming to be full of energy and her smile only getting wider.

"I… I honestly, don't think it has any teeth," said Carrot while he watched Cup Cake lay a few pieces of food around the creature.

"You've got no teeth, oh ain't that funny? You've got no teeth, you're all gummy!" sang Pinkie Pie, picking up the hatchling and spinning it around and around the room. As the Cakes looked on with their eyebrows arching, the little creature slipped her grasp and began biting her all over in an act that seemed like an imperfect mix of excitement, affection, and predation.

With that Pinkie deposited the creature in a punch bowl, only its eyes and tail visible as it floated among the contents.

"Look, it likes it! The gummy little alligator likes it and he's all gummy 'cause he doesn't have any teeth so I'm gonna call him Gummy! Can I keep him?" she said with unrestrained enthusiasm.

Pinkie spun to a stop directly in front of them with a wide smile. With that she lifted the bowl to them as the reptile within stared back at them with the unnerving eyes that once more lost their synchronization.

"Well," said Carrot, regarding his assailant skeptically and watching as Pinkie lifted it from the punch bowl to deposit it among the small snacks, "it's hardly a typical pet…and you know, in time…"

In an instant he felt a familiar hoof on his foreleg. He followed Cup Cake's gaze to where Pinkie was sitting with the alligator. She already seemed so occupied with it, concerned over it… responsible for it.

"She could learn so much," Cup Cake whispered in his ear.

One part of Carrot simply wanted to call Animal Control and be done with it. He communicated this to his wife through his eyes. Her reassuring ones met his. The Cakes regarded the scene a bit longer and then gave their consent.

Pinkie Pie grabbed up the hatchling once more and spun around happily as it clamped its jaws shut around her tail. With that she hugged them both and trotted upstairs to fill the tub, giving it someplace to rest as she completed her chores.

The Cakes watched her go, once more amazed by something that the pink mare had brought into their lives.

"There's an alligator living in our bakery, Ginger Snap," said Carrot in a singsong voice.

Cup Cake giggled, placed her forelegs across his back and nibbled at his ears in the way she knew he adored.

"And you wanted kids!" she scolded as she slid beside him, running her body the length of his as her playful tone announced the smirk that was buried in the statement.

"I still do," he said with his voice above a whisper.

She looked up, saw him smiling back to her. With that she ran her body the length of his again, ending beneath his chin with a long series of nuzzles.

"Oh, I do too," she said as she rubbed her head beneath his all the way down to his chest and up again.

With the act she let him know that her heart was still open to that far away place, even if the magic seemed to keep it beyond the horizon.

Life with Pinkie Pie… it was never boring. To their surprise it was also rather… well, profitable.

The pink mare was a well of energy, seemingly unable to expend it all, and she was constantly trying to meet every customer… seeming to try to get to know everypony in Ponyville.

As Pinkie grew to know more and more ponies, the more ponies would come to Sugar Cube Corner to meet her and spend time with her… and spend a few bits as they did.

Before long, Carrot had to place a few tables outside the shop, and Cup Cake found herself recreating her days as a caterer as she saw to the ponies eating outside, those who had made friends with Pinkie's other friends.

It was far more than just the money, as Pinkie did have a propensity to almost eat a day's earnings in a few monstrous bites, apparently fueling her endless energy.

No, it was also the way she was increasing their social circle. It was the way she was filling their bakery with laughter and music. It was the way that they would sit together and eat their meals. Almost like… family.

It was the way she would have quiet talks with Cup Cake about little things, the way she learned from the older mare.

It was the way she had huddled behind Carrot upon seeing a bat in the attic as she prepared another party.

When she would ask them to giggle at certain ghosties, ones that were the most persistent and sometimes metaphorical, and they would come and help her.

It was the way that they were learning from her… growing because she was a part of their lives. This. then, is what invoked the word "family" and made it seem so very real.

Carrot and Cup Cake had never really done much on the night of the Summer Sun Celebration.

They respected the sovereign as much as anypony, but the thought of spending the early morning hours among throngs of ponies was not nearly as appealing as spending them together. Their wish was to spend it sitting in their little parlor, or at most at the big house where Cheesecake and Wishing Well gathered Cup Cake's extended family.

On this Pinkie differed. As the day drew on, Cup Cake wondered how her young apprentice would be passing that night… wondered what type of night the pink mare would have unfold before her.

She could hardly guess.

As Cup Cake sat behind the counter, she found her attention being pulled to the cash register drawer. She wondered if it had ever been cleaned at all. She carefully pulled out the trays and lifted the liner.

To her surprise two pamphlets lay there, ones dated nearly a decade earlier.

Foster care, adoption.

Her eyes lingered over them for a great long while. He had obviously brought them home with him at some point. The dates upon them were not that long after they had learned that the magic was not answering them.

She began to lift her voice to call to him when a ball of energy burst into the room…

"Mrs. Cake, Mrs. Cake!" called Pinkie Pie, zooming about and gathering up supplies in a blur of motion. "I just met a new pony and she's a unicorn and she's got a dragon! I was all like 'Oh my Gosh, I've never seen her before!' so she must be a new pony! And if she's a new pony in Ponyville that must mean that she doesn't know anypony yet!"

Cup Cake watched as Pinkie continued to zoom about. As she did, a small pile of party supplies grew in the showcase room.

"So I thought that if she doesn't know anypony she must not have any friends and if she doesn't have any friends she must be lonely! And that made me sad, and since that made me sad I thought it must make her sad and I don't like that so I thought about ways she could meet ponies and of course there's a best way and that's to throw a party!"

Cup Cake still stared at Pinkie Pie as a small mountain of supplies seemed to fit within a suspiciously small saddlebag. Only her party cannon seeming to be absent from the stack that disappeared within. With that Pinkie seemed to go up the stairs, yet emerged from the basement door.

"So now I'm gonna go to the library and set up and then I'll bring everypony there and we'll have a great big ginormous super duper spectacular welcome party for her and then we'll all go to city hall for the Summer Sun Celebration and I hope you two have a really, really, really, good night, bye!"

Inside an instant Cup Cake felt herself wrapped up in one of Pinkie's marvelous hugs, the mare appearing beside her from out of nowhere and disappearing just as quickly.

"Oh, that sounds nice! Have fun now!" she called after her, watching as the smiling face bounced out the door.

Silence hung over the bakery once again.

Cup Cake looked down and saw that, despite all that had just happened, her hoof was still holding up the liner, revealing the two pamphlets to the light.

She smiled over them. With that she lowered the liner once more. Despite his good intentions, their lives had not moved in that direction… the life of a young mare had been planted among theirs for whatever reason and she was happy for it.

With that she let the pamphlets rest once more and slid the drawer back within the register.

The Cakes sat up together long into the night and deep into the morning. They did all the small things that they always wished to do together that they rarely had time for. They read poetry, listened to music, looked through albums, and wrote letters.

This is how they passed the shortest night of the year, just as they had for nearly a decade apart from those years at the big house where the noise of teenagers and awkward conversation with Cup Cake's brothers nearly drove Carrot mad.

Together they took their coffees, the caffeine fueling them, and sat in front of the large picture window of the bakery and awaited the dawning of the Summer Sun.

Yet the sun did not come.

"Oh, my," said Cup Cake as the minutes passed, "you-you don't think that coming down here to Ponyville threw the princess off a touch, do you?"

"I-I don't know, Sugar Plum," spoke Carrot, taking her hoof in his. "You wouldn't think so, would you?"

Together they continued to stare out into the pre-dawn darkness, pondering what could be going on in the city hall whose spire and flags were just visible in the darkness over the nearby buildings.

Their eyes went wide as ponies began running through the streets.

They looked to one another as they saw the fear painted across the eyes of those who ran by.

Carrot opened the door with Cup Cake at his side as they tried to make sense of what was happening.

"Nightmare Moon!" called a pony that pelted past, one of their usual customers apparently seeing the confusion upon their faces. "The Mare in the Moon!"

It was a name that should not exist, one that lived only in fairy stories. Together they looked to the moon and saw that it had indeed changed. Despite every part of their logical minds telling them that it could not be happening, they knew… they believed…

"Pinkie," Cup Cake breathed as she looked up to her husband.

Inside an instant the Cakes were struggling forward past the crowd, trying to head towards city hall as ponies streamed in the other direction in the darkness.

As they did, Carrot tried to pick out familiar faces in the crowd, catch the eyes of customers he knew.

"Hey, Big Macintosh, have you seen Pinkie Pie? Drinking Gourd, do you know where Pinkie is? Sparkler, Sparkler did you see Pinkie, the mare who works at my bakery?" he said as ponies slid past them.

As each apologized, he moved on to the next, keeping himself close to Cup Cake as they approached city hall.

"Can you help us, please?" she asked the crowd at large, some ponies stopping to look to her before being swept away. "Oh! Can somepony please help us?" she said as they came upon the steps of the circular structure. "We can't find our Pinkie Pie, have you seen her? Has anyone seen our Pinkie? Have you seen our daught… daughter…"

Carrot spun to her as soon as he had heard the word. He looked upon her just in time to see her bounce through the last utterance of it, to see the word shake through her.

Cup Cake looked up to him. Her eyes were already misting over, the shine of the rose highlighted even in the purple of the undying night.

He sat before her. In an instant she was back in the one place in the world where she felt safest, pressed to his chest as his forelegs ran across her, wrapped her closer to him.

"Carrot! Cuppy!" called a familiar voice. As Ivory Script called out orders to those few ponies who had maintained their senses, she trotted down to them, looked upon her best friends with worry.

"Ivory," said Carrot, "do you know where Pinkie Pie is, did she come here? What happened?"

As Ivory explained what had transpired, Cup Cake lifted her head and listened intently.

Pinkie had gone off with a group of other mares, led it seemed by a young unicorn who Ivory believed to have some sort of grasp on the situation. The news brought Cup Cake no comfort. As the square around city hall began to vacate, the two sat there together, Cup Cake still finding reassurance in his embrace.

They walked together through the city streets to the bakery wordlessly.

They sat there in the picture window together, looking out into the streets and comforting one another with their presence for long hours.

When the sun did erupt into the sky, it found them lying across one another, the bleary faces coming awake, looking perhaps more like worried parents than they knew.

When Pinkie Pie came trotting back into the bakery, her detailed account of what had transpired was instantly muffled beneath a massive hug, one that she returned gladly as two ponies rocked her and cried over her.

Strings of causality… they are the very fabric of fate. They stretch and twist, snarl and get caught and snagged.

They also lie beside one another, are woven and knit. One can only tie, many though bind, and hundreds clothe.

If a beloved stallion now departed from his mortal life had not gone grumbling through the streets, then Pinkie Pie would never have found a place of refuge with these two ponies.

If Cup Cake and Carrot Cake had not fought so hard to forge their lives together, then Cheesecake would never have entered Pinkie's life, never helped her truly understand who she was.

If the Cakes had not opened their lives to her and accepted her so fully, then she would never have become the bright, shining Pinkie Pie that all who knew her loved and cherished.

If she never had become that Pinkie Pie, then there would not have been a place for the Element of Laughter to hang so lightly…

… and Equestria would have been damned to an eternity of night under the cold gaze of a mare of darkness.

Love makes the strings, pulls them tighter, pulled her into their lives… and helped Pinkie share hers with them.

Soon her friends, these six and the dragon whelp, they became as frequent a set of visitors to Sugar Cube Corner as any other. In fact they seemed at times to be a part of the very life of the place.

It was the strings that kept pulling them together. They helped them through the hard times… times when parasprites had flown around and attempted to devour all that they had worked for. Only Pinkie's randomness that they had taken as part of their lives had saved all.

The string pulled them in the times of laughter, when they too played their parts in the little games and jokes her friends had learned to play under her guidance… times when they had joined in the pranks, had made themselves part of a farce about accursed cookies and enchanted alligators.

The strings guided them through the happy times… the times when their family had come together and had celebrated their tenth anniversary in a celebration that Pinkie had planned, as they had danced together like they had at the dancehall long ago when their touch first met the other.

And the strings continued to bring ponies into their lives…

Twilight Sparkle had been a meticulous planner.

She had selected the downstairs rather than the attic so that there could be free movement around Sugar Cube Corner, making it easier for the guest of honor to be served directly from the kitchen.

The Cakes had simply listened as the unicorn had planned everything from the seating arrangements to the menu, watching as her dragon whelp walked behind her and copied down her words as she paced back and forth.

When the day arrived, Carrot found a new face in his kitchen. As he gave simple instructions, he found the dragon whelp, Spike, excited to play his part. The Cakes even produced a little chef's uniform for him, one he immediately adored and wore proudly.

As he trotted back out into the showcase room and the side rooms, he saw all of the happy faces that had assembled.

"How's everypony doing?" he asked, his smile only getting larger as he neared his wife and the guest who sat in their humble bakery. "Good? Good!"

"Is there anything else we can get for you, Dearie?" asked Cup Cake, jumping a touch at her choice of word. "Oh, I mean-mean esteemed guest?"

"Everything is fine, mister and misses Cake," replied the immortal sitting behind their table, looking up to them from across the best teacup they had.

Together they looked out over the crowd. They watched as the guests strolled beneath the colorful decorations that only Pinkie could have set in place, taxing even Twilight's abilities to control.

They circulated around the bakery, Cup Cake bringing trays of treats around to the assembled guests. It was a small gathering, casual as it could be for having the very living embodiment of deep magic using her grandmother's old teacup and having guards posted at the doors.

Cup Cake tried to remember that fact as she dealt with the foibles of the afternoon. Pinkie's friend Rarity seemed to have a breakdown at the thought of staining her dress. Pinkie herself apparently snatched a cupcake out of the very magic of their seemingly divine guest of honor.

As Cup Cake quickly dragged Pinkie away and gave a quick lesson on interaction with divinities, Carrot brought Celestia another cup of tea and a new cupcake.

As her teacup was emptied, he heard his wife shout across the showcase room, her decisiveness at the fore. "Empty teacup at four o'clock!" she called, gesturing with her hoof.

"I see it, Honey Bun!" he called back, leaping into action, quickly pouring another cup for the alicorn.

"Oh! Ummm… thank you!" answered the immortal.

"Not at all, Your Highness," answered Carrot with a bow. In an instant she had emptied the cup, the larger frame of the sovereign simply taking larger sips than those who surrounded her.

At once Cup Cake had filled her cup, racing from the other side of the room and beginning a chain of filling and emptying.

A look of small concern flashed across Celestia's face as she looked down over her children, these two earth ponies. They were only trying to please her…

…she wished they would not try so hard. They had already done so much on her behalf.

A look of playful cunning swept her, and with one more motion she tricked Carrot into pouring her a new cup… one that fell into a cup that was already full.

"Gotcha!"

As a sheepish look went across Carrot's face, Celestia smiled down to them, Cup Cake sharing in the smile of her sovereign, realizing what she had done.

After a moment, Carrot recovered too. Soon he understood, saw that there was something buried there… something that fell from the alicorn softly as she looked across them and across all of the ponies in the room.

Carrot looked upon the two smiling figures, the alicorn and earth pony mares. A memory hit him, one of Cup Cake dressed as the alicorn that now sat near them on a Nightmare Night long ago. As the radiant beauty fell from the princess, he could certainly see it reflected in the mare he loved, and in that instant he was very thankful for both of the divine creatures that sat in his sight.

Outside, Ivory Script paced back and forth, important issues on her mind.

The thought of interrupting this party troubled her, knew that it was something that was big and important and that her two best friends were hosting...

... yet, friendship or not, she had a duty to perform.

"Forgive me, Cuppy, Carrot..." she breathed in a whisper. With that she advanced to the guards. As they eyed her, she kept her head level.

"Please inform her majesty that Ivory Script, the mayor of Ponyville," she said, slowly moving her eyes between them, "has an urgent issue she must discuss at her earliest convenience."

The two Royal Guardsponies looked at one another, and with that one went off to whisper the matter to the princess.

A half of an hour or so later, the party had been cleared away and the sound of dishes being washed chimed across the kitchen. The sound of crockery full of leftovers finding its way into the icebox and the single resonate notes of the teacups being placed back in their cupboard joined them in a small chorus.

The bell above the door rang out, adding its own sound to the refrain that was sounding through the bakery.

"Could you see to whoever that is, Honey Bun? My hooves are full," said Carrot nervously wobbling along with his forelegs full of china.

"Oh, righty!" she answered. She trotted out of the kitchen and into the showcase room.

With that she once more entered the presence of Procer Celestia Invictus, the alicorn having returned to their humble bakery.

"Oh, hello again, Dearie! Oh, I mean, Your Majesty!" she said as she made a little bow. "What is it that that brings you back to us?"

"I do wish to thank you for hosting this get-together," said the sovereign while her mane shifted around on magic unseen, "Twilight had been planning it for so long…"

"Oh, it was no problem at all! Twilight was a delight to work with, Dearie, and… I mean Majesty!" she exclaimed with a smile, trying again to recover from her use of the word.

No sense of impropriety seemed to fall from the alicorn, no disgust seemed follow her use of such a common name.

Instead the opposite seemed true, as though the princess seemed to grow happier as the two smiled to one another.

"I was wondering if perhaps you have seen my pet bird?" asked Celestia as she lifted her hoof and pointed to where the stand had once stood. "I have not seen her since the party…"

"Oh, oh no… no I haven't, Majesty," Cup Cake said, her hoof coming to her mouth, "let… let me ask Carrot if he's heard or seen-"

"Oh," interrupted Celestia, still smiling over the mare that stood before her. "That is quite alright. She has a propensity to get into all sorts of trouble… I am sure she will show up."

The two mares stood there in the afternoon light, blinking to one another in the sunlight that the alicorn had raised over her domain.

"I was also wondering if I might purchase some pastries? The court loves to try some from all over Equestria, and I should like to display some of yours," added the sovereign as she looked upon the wares of Sugar Cube Corner.

"Why, of course! We'd be honored, Dear…Majesty!" added Cup Cake as her smile grew wider.

"I am very glad," spoke the alicorn as she gracefully turned to look upon Cup Cake, "I shall have my chamberlain send for them, send your stipend and a courier."

At once her smile dropped.

Celestia's expression became one of sympathy as Cup Cake's face fell down into reflection, the face of the sovereign tilting as she mused over the questions that were now filling her child.

Inside Cup Cake thousands of unanswered Invokes flew around, the pain of ten years of trying to no avail swept up inside her.

Before her stood perhaps the only living being in Equestria that could answer her questions, offer some solace. With a rush of emotion she moved to ask her sovereign if it was possible that the journey might still bring them to that place.

"Majesty, Princess…" she began, trembling a little as she ventured her thoughts, "I-I'm sorry to be so bold, ya' know, but-but I have to ask… ummm, you-you see Carrot and I have wanted, wanted to…been trying to…"

The fall of the hooves of the alicorn sounded out across the wooden floors.

With a single gentle motion Celestia lowered her head to that of Cup Cake. She kissed her forehead once and then ran her face along Cup Cake's tenderly.

Cup Cake felt the power that lay there. Inside her mind, pastel colors shifted about and darted through a cloudscape.

She felt a powerful and deep magic shift around her as though it were being examined, questioned…

Beyond her a well opened up in more colors, ones that seemed to waft around her and cradle her. Inside it two golden spheres wafted on silver clouds, darting about and flying to her, orbiting her in what seemed like peals of laughter.

After a moment her sovereign's head lifted to her ear. The vision fell out of Cup Cake's eyes and mind as the gentle voice filled her.

"They are going to be beautiful, Cup Cake," whispered the alicorn, the words falling lightly over the earth pony.

With that Celestia brushed a stray waft of her radiant mane out of her face. She smiled over a confused Cup Cake once more and then departed Sugar Cube Corner in search of her wayward phoenix.

Thrice Upon a Mattress

Chapter 17: Thrice Upon a Mattress

The gingerbread house was complete and sat carefully enclosed inside of its box awaiting delivery.

The Cakes stood in the showcase room, listening to Pinkie Pie as she seemed to be both rehearsing her lines for the Hearth's Warming pageant and speaking about everything that she wished to do and see in Canterlot.

She would not be with them until late tomorrow. The young mare instead would be returning for most of the day to the rock farm where her parents awaited their daughters and the joy that came with their presence.

Carrot lifted his face and turned back towards the doorway. The holiday cards all hung across the doorframe before him.

He focused past the frosting that still stood upon his nose and saw the card from Clyde and Roxy that hung there. The happy greetings reminded him that Pinkie's family was now in some ways theirs as well.

The mares made little noises of surprise. Carrot looked up to see Pinkie showing Cup Cake something that had been growing during that long day.

Ponies that had been passing by had been drawing in the frost that sat upon their window. Even as the mares looked on, Pinkie Pie's friends arrived, each ready to trot to the train station.

Pinkie motioned to them before they entered, asking each to draw a little representation of themselves in the frost.

As the mares and dragon whelp entered, Cup Cake motioned to them, winking as they each noticed the white dollop of frosting upon Carrot's nose, imploring them not to give away that they saw it there.

Carrot had forgotten about it. It simply had become a part of him, something else that she had added to his life. Cup Cake marveled at this even as the giggles of the girls sent small waves of confusion over his features.

All too soon there was a flurry of hugs, and with that, the young mares and their dragon escort departed Sugar Cube Corner.

The Cakes watched them go through the big picture window. To their surprise Pinkie Pie came bouncing back and smiled to them from the other side.

As her scarf dangled around her, they watched as she too added something to the frost, smiled to them once more, and then bounded off into the snowy streets to the railway station beyond.

Cupcake and Carrot lowered their heads and stared into the frost where dozens of little ponies seemed to march and dance.

Three ponies and an alligator stood close together, each one of them looking very much like the residents of Sugar Cube Corner.

Cup Cake leaned into him, let herself rock and sway in tune with her husband as they pondered the window.

Soon the last of their customers with holiday orders had arrived, made their holiday wishes, and departed with their treasures.

With that they closed Sugar Cube Corner to the world, leaving only the magical lights shining along the picture window to indicate their cheer.

Wrapping themselves in their scarves, they went out into the cold and grey Hearth's Warming Eve afternoon, the box containing the gingerbread house perched carefully upon Carrot's back.

Ivory Script was living in her own small home now, her parents having departed for Foalida during that year. The large mansion where she had lived all of her life had gone up for sale. Now she lived in a more modest abode in the center of the city that she served.

The long afternoon was spent in the pleasant company of their oldest friend, the mayor of Ponyville so comfortable and relaxed in their presence that she let the grey come out of her mane and let her natural pink shine through.

As the time came for the reveal of the gingerbread house, Cupcake lead her into her own dining room. There a beaming Carrot lifted the box to reveal the structure.

As Ivory looked it over, she smiled to Cup Cake, motioning to the prideful stallion that stood nearby.

Cup Cake nodded her head, once more acknowledging the dollop of frosting.

Ivory embraced them both, carefully avoiding the frosting upon Carrot's nose even as she giggled, and confusion sat upon him once more.

Promises were made. Ivory would come to Sugar Cube Corner the next evening and spend dinner with them. She would bring her gifts tomorrow… possibly having found what awaited her deep within the gingerbread house by that time.

With another embrace, they left their dear friend and went out into the wintry afternoon. As they went, they stopped to listen to songs that lifted from carolers or watch skaters in the big millpond.

They lingered just for a moment upon the snowy bank across from the mill, the very same spot where they had first spent pleasant time in the company of one another. The big millwheel continued its cycle even as the building itself sat empty of ponies, as large icicles formed on the wheel and the festive greenery sat in each window.

The air hung over the ice-covered river coldly. With a shiver Cup Cake leaned into her husband, seeking his warmth.

Their scarves could offer little comfort against the frosty air. With that in mind they were off to the big house that stood beyond the lamppost, leaning to one another as they went.

As they entered the house, they were greeted, the flash of Cup Cake's eyes telling all within not to mention the frosting that still sat resolutely upon Carrot's nose.

Carrot watched her family greet one another, interact with one another. Her brothers talked with him, and he did his best to make small talk with the powerful businesspony and the army officer.

His mother, now a dear matron to that family, greeted her son with a long hug and kiss that avoided the frosting. She too promised to come around to the bakery for dinner the following day.

Still, it seemed somehow less. As the activity swirled around the house, Carrot found himself in the kitchen, missing a certain older stallion who had once stood there with him making sandwiches and speaking in a rumbling tone.

Before long they were off again. As their extended family asked them to come around in the morning for breakfast and the opening of presents, they received their hugs and kisses.

Cup Cake could only giggle as the nieces and nephews her brothers had given them joined Ruby's in giggling at Carrot as they wrapped them in their forelegs, the confusion upon her husband's face only growing as the forgotten frosting caused the grown ponies to smirk and try to hide their expressions.

The restaurant in the Hotel Seabiscuit had a wide buffet laid out. As they found their favorite table, the waiter could only jump in small surprise as he looked upon the face of Carrot, not knowing if he should mention the frosting or not.

The room was largely unoccupied, giving them some welcome silence. As the fire flickered in the large stone fireplace, the waiter brought them their drinks. He removed the old plates as they slowly enjoyed all of the flavors and temptations that the buffet offered.

As they spoke a band played in the next room, and little remembrances crept into their conversation. Before too long they found themselves sitting there with their hooves upon the table, sitting upon the hoof of the other.

Carrot spoke about small things: the week now ending, their new ovens, wondered if she would like to try the Southwestern Reaches this year for a vacation.

As he did, he stared down into the rose colored eyes of his wife, lost in them as he had been for more than a decade.

She lifted her voice to answer: asked if they would have to put in a lift to access the attic when the new codes came into play, spoke about how nice it was not to have to adjust for uneven heating anymore, wondered if they would let ponies who were not on their honeymoon use a certain bungalow that she remembered very fondly.

As she did, he stared up to the green eyes of her husband, past the frosting that he was now oblivious to.

They said goodbye to their favorite table and favored the waiter with a generous tip as the crowds began to arrive. With that they left the restaurant in the Hotel Seabiscuit once more.

To their surprise it was actually a touch warmer than it had been when they escaped the chill over the river, and a light snow was now falling in the absence of the wind.

It seemed like an excellent evening for a walk. They decided to enjoy that night, together, before they headed to the dancehall. It almost was too perfect. As the lights of decorated homes shone out into the darkened night, they could be forgiven for perhaps thinking that some divine being had made it that way just for them…

The dancehall where they had first met had been rebuilt, a pony named Blues and his friends having once more filled the fabled structure with life and vibrancy. They slowly made their way there as the flakes of snow gently drifted around them, and holiday music, mixed with dances and other songs of all varieties, lifted from the distant structure.

They stopped as they went to peer over the holiday displays in the windows of the closed stores, swaying together as they leaned upon one another tenderly.

As they crossed through the snowy streets, they stopped to look upon the buildings, each one alive with decoration, candles, and lights.

Cup Cake had been walking towards the next group of lights, their hues already falling over her, when she felt an alien sensation… the feeling that he was not near her, the absence of his body touching to hers.

She turned around and panned the street. There she found him looking down into a perfect sheen of newly fallen snow.

She watched him, saw that he was contemplating something that stood within the white.

With that she saw Carrot plant his hoof into the snow in a slow, deliberate movement. He lifted his head to look at her, his eyes squinting to catch her in the light of a lamppost.

She trotted back, already knowing what she would find there, her heart leaping at the knowledge.

He had of course found one of her hoofprints in the freshly fallen snow. He had selected the best one, the one that was as perfect as he could select, and had pressed his hoof into it.

The two prints stood there before them, merged into one symbol. As she stood next to him, she wrapped it in a heart, the snow moving around her hoof placidly and yieldingly.

They stood there, staring down into it as she placed her head on his shoulder, the flakes falling through the lamplight around them.

Beyond them, music drifted out of Blues' New Blue Flag Club, the old dancehall seeming to fill with the soft tones of the notes that caught among the decorations that adorned it.

As she began to nuzzle beneath him, draw her face along his, there was only one ornament that called to her, only one decoration that caught her interest.

Enough, it was time.

She took his hoof, wordlessly asking him to follow her to the windows of the nearby Carousel Boutique.

Gently she drew him closer until their reflection stood upon the windows, the Cakes staring back at themselves as the lights in the windowpane caught them in a myriad of colors.

He looked upon her smiling reflection and then peered deeper at his own and tried to figure out what she was telling him.

He arched his eyebrow and stared at his reflection deeper, growing slightly perturbed as she began to giggle.

Cup Cake lifted her hoof and pointed with a wide grin to the dollop of frosting that still sat upon his nose.

Carrot crossed his eyes, concentrated and realized that it was still there. As he realized why Ivory, their family in the big house, and the waiter had all been giggling and smiling at him, a blush came over his face.

He had utterly forgotten about it. It had become just another part of him, something that she had placed there and made a part of his life.

He turned to her to try to apologize for embarrassing her, but at once he was made aware that was not her concern at all.

Not in the slightest.

She placed his head in her hoof and guided it down to her.

Cup Cake rubbed her nose to his, the small gentle motions sending their familiar and welcome feeling between them.

She kissed his lips, moved up slightly and planted another kiss on his nose. She then reached the frosting.

She took a few tiny bites of it, nibbled at it and then simply began to lap at him. She let the warmth of her tongue slide up the space above his nose and under his eyes.

He closed his eyes, felt her tongue as it traced the spot, let the sense of her closeness and the heat of her body enter him.

In a few motions it was mostly gone. As he opened his eyes he saw her standing there before him, a happy little smirk upon her face.

She stuck her tongue out at him, her cheeks and eyes wrinkling up into the devious smile that had long ago captured his heart.

In an instant he knew what she was doing. He knew that a flavor must still rest upon her tongue. He moved to answer her offer to share it.

As the flakes gently fell around them, he lowered his lips to hers. Together they chased the taste of the frosting between them. Its flavor was so much like a sugar cube long since dissolved, one whose memory they had savored ever since.

No, it was more than just that uncomplicated flavor.

The ingredients of the frosting filled them with more than just a simple taste of sugar. It was stronger and more practiced. The frosting was much more than just sugar, just as their love had only grown in that time. It had been beaten and whipped, but it had become that much better.

They lifted from the kiss. Soon their heads were touching to one another once again, the long and slow motions letting their familiar feel drift through the other.

In a moment any thoughts of dancing at the club fell away, became an instant impossibility.

As they stared softly to one another, they both knew the welcome sensation that drifted from their heart to the heart of the other. An implore raised itself in her eyes, and tenderness grew in his. With that they both knew in a happy instant to where they were being drawn.

As the music drifted from the club beyond, they turned towards the street leading back to Sugar Cube Corner and the warm bed within.

She trotted ahead of him for a second and then began walking backwards, staring at him with her little smile. She touched her nose to his once again, and then she turned and trotted ahead, his heart leaping at the sight of her bouncing, buoyant steps.

She looked over her shoulder at him, her cheeks still lifting in her cunning smile as she began to weave through the lampposts, asking him to pursue her.

He began his little chase, Cup Cake looking back to him as he slowly gained upon her, her laughter guiding him even more than the sight of the rosy mane and beautiful coat of his wife as the lamplight fell over her.

He listened to her hooves going across the cobblestones, the sound muffled by the snow, watched her mane bounce as the snow swirled around her.

She stopped and let him catch up to her for an instant. His lips fell to hers for a lingering moment before she giggled again and was off once more, turning back to him as his smile grew.

She brushed the snow from his mane as they gained the doorway of Sugar Cube Corner. As he did the same, she laid her head to his chest. He let her lie there, his head upon hers, until she lifted it and looked up to him once more. With another inviting touch of their muzzles they entered their small home.

Their scarves barely made it to the drying rack before they were cantering up the stairs, Cup Cake still giggling as she went. The wonderful sound filled the stairwell as she removed her earrings.

As she finished, she placed them on the table at the head of the stairs. She felt his hoof upon her, slowly tracing the length of her stifle, coasting slowly down the length of her rear leg and back up again.

She turned to her husband as he gained the last few steps, lifted his touch from her.

She leaned forward into another kiss, and with that they entered their bedroom.

A moment later they came trotting back out again, both laughing.

Pinkie had opened the upstairs windows to let the moisture of her accidental deluge escape the bakery. The bracing chill that filled the upstairs sealed it against their intentions.

No matter, they would make their own heat.

With the windows closed in all of the upstairs rooms and Gummy seen to be safe and happy upon his warming rock, they trotted back downstairs.

The two trotted down the stairs and to the kitchen so quickly and filled with expectancy that a few holiday cards fell from the doorframe with the rush of their air, not to be discovered until the next morning.

They lit the ovens, left the doors open so that even as the room was left dark, the blue flames wafted about merrily in their confines.

The fireplace in the parlor roared to life, and as the blinds were closed, the futon and its mattress were arrayed, the pillows carefully set.

The light of the fireplace fell over them, joined in its illumination by the Hearth's Warming tree that stood in the corner. As they lay upon the mattress and pillows, the lights upon the tree shimmered over them, cast them in its colors.

They pondered it for a good long while, studying the tree and the presents beneath it as they lay against one another, as they nuzzled their faces to one another and wrapped their hooves deeper and deeper together.

The ornaments upon the tree, many as old as their marriage, were each filled with some happy thought or cherished memory of those they knew and loved and the times they had shared together.

They laid their heads to one another and thought of all the ponies whose gifts awaited them tomorrow, thought of all of the faces that were attached to the names upon the little presents beneath their tree.

As they did, it filled them with a sense of completeness, wholeness, a feeling that all was well in their world. They sensed that their love had indeed grown to include so many, that they were a part of a great circle, one that would be drawn here to their little home inside their bakery tomorrow.

That though was tomorrow. This evening was for the two of them alone to share.

Carrot felt her lift her body, felt Cup Cake place her forelegs across his shoulders.

Her kisses fell in a wobbling trail up his withers and along his neck. The cadence and soft feel of her lips went across his cheek before catching his ear between them.

Slowly she nibbled at his ears, first one and then the other. Not hurting him or biting them, simply letting her lips embrace them, her teeth touching to them just enough to show her affections.

Carrot felt the wonder sensation of her light frame close to his, felt the heat of her body over his.

With that her lips once more planted kisses to him, her hooves signaling him to roll to his side.

As her mouth reached his neck, her hooves ran along his chest, his shoulders, and her teeth caught along the ancient bow tie lightly.

It was weathered with age and perhaps fraying, but it was something she had given him. It was like the frosting she had placed upon him, the single small line of white still showing where it had rested. It was something she had given him and so he had kept it, cherished it.

Gently she touched her mouth to it over and over, undoing the knot with small movements, carefully releasing it from the amber neck upon which it lay. As she went, she first pulled at it and then let her mouth find some spot upon his neck to lay a small kiss before once more tenderly pulling upon the cravat.

Cup Cake alternated these motions in turn until it pulled free, the bow tie hanging in her mouth as she lay above him, her hooves lying upon his chest as she gazed down over her husband.

Even as it still dangled in her mouth, Cup Cake touched her head to that of Carrot. She stood and smiled to him as the bow tie swayed in her mouth, seemed even to chuckle wordlessly as she did.

Cup Cake moved slightly, parted the pillows and looked across to Carrot as he sat up and settled his eyes across her.

She dropped his bow tie across the pile of pillows, across the deepest part of the futon. As the cravat slid from her mouth, she looked deep into his approaching eyes, signaling to her husband the spot where she wished to be made love to.

As he wrapped his forelegs around her, she leaned backwards into him, just as she had done once upon a distant and happy time when flour had poured over them.

As she rested against his chest, he touched his head to hers, his hooves stroking her forelegs tenderly and gently, the awareness of his welcome touch sinking into her.

In the kitchen the blue flames fell down inside the oven, the room having met the temperature they had wished. The little sounds of their home, this small segment of the world that they had built together over long years, these floated into their parlor as she sank deeper into her favorite place… the place in the world where she felt most at home, safe, and loved.

As she lay further into his chest, he wrapped her closer, let his lips fall across her neck once more, press to and nibble gently upon the space behind her ears.

After long moments of their embrace, he felt her nudge him, press against him with an entreat for his actions.

As Cup Cake leaned backwards, she did so without hesitancy, trusting and knowing that he was there for her, feeling the sweep of his body as he lowered her to the mattress.

Her head rested in his foreleg until her husband arranged the pillow beneath her, Carrot not placing her upon the cushion until it stood just so, made it so that she seemed to hang above the mattress more than lay upon it.

Her head tilted to the side, her forelegs folding to her chest as he returned to face her, standing over her and looking upon her supine presence.

"I love you, Mrs. Cake," he said as he grasped her offered hooves, standing over her and staring down into the rosy eyes that he had long adored.

"I love you, Mr. Cake," she answered, kissing his nose and brushing a waft of his mane from his gentle eyes.

She sought his eyes, held his wandering hoof to her face for just an instant before ushering it off to its explorations once again.

As his touch floated across her, she slowly rocked her head back and forth from one side of the pillow to the other, giving small sounds of contentment as he lingered upon her body with small circles and lazy patterns.

She ran her hoof up his foreleg, reaching up until her own rested against his face. He leaned against it, let his head settle to her hoof.

The warmth of the fireplace fell over them, and the lights of the tree caught across them.

They could not know, as they gazed upon one another, that this was the last year that children's toys would be absent from under that tree.

They could not know that this would be their last year for many years that they would be able to sleep in on Hearth's Warming Day, that soon foals would be calling to them at early hours or leaping into their bed and begging to be allowed to go downstairs into the parlor.

They had been through so much together, had suffered so much to be together.

They had learned so much, learned from each other and from those who their love had brought into their lives.

They had been made stronger; strong enough now that the deep magic sensed their strength, knew that they were ready for what would now happen.

The magic knew that they were strong, resolute… that they had planned, made strong stands against that which they feared.

The magic knew that they could accept loss, hardship, could get through it all because they relied on one another… that they had made a long journey together.

The magic knew that they would never stop trying their hardest to live up to the task that had been set for them… that they had never stopped loving one another, had never broken down because of the strength they shared.

The magic knew that they were ready, that they could accept those whose lives were so very different from their own as part of their lives… just as they had for a young mare who had filled their house with love and laughter.

The Cakes were ready, had shown themselves to be ready, and the magic moved to answer their long-spoken Invokes.

They could not know that with their acts that night, the seeds that would be scattered would not find the barren rocks and sandy ground that had laid there over the long decade of doubt and uncertainty.

They could not know that this night the deep magic moved within her, and fertile soils rich with life opened at its call.

They could not know that the magic had awakened two souls and was ready to answer their pleas that they had long spoken, was preparing to make their love corporeal.

The magic had waited, knew that for the two earth ponies raising twins would be hard enough, a test of their skills.

It also knew that raising two foals of races different from themselves, a unicorn filly and a pegasus colt, would be harder still.

There would be challenges for them; heartbreak, fear, frustration… but also happiness, joy, and love.

These emotions and more would meet the new lives that they created this night, but among them love stood tallest. The greatest among them was the love that Carrot Cake and Cup Cake would drape over their foals all of their long lives.

The magic had waited until they were strong enough, smart enough, had learned and loved. They had never stopped trying… and now they had won.

The magic conceded the round, saw that they were ready for this task and applauded them their victory in "The Game of This."

They could not know it was so very happy for them and that it waited patiently that much longer to bestow them with their prizes.

They of course could not know these things as they lay there.

All that a happy Cup Cake knew was that her husband was leaving soft kisses across her neck, her chest, her barrel…

Her body arched, calling for his, but he was lost in the act of draping his kisses across her. Instead he denied himself that pleasure that much longer to focus on the small, happy sounds that were lifting from her. She raised her hoof, called his lips back up to hers.

Something caught in the firelight, in the lights that cascaded off the tree.

Seeing it there, she pressed her lips to the ridges between his nose and beneath his eyes, grabbing the last of the frosting that still clung to his muzzle.

With one more deep, long kiss they chased this taste between them, let it catch on their tongues. With another long, loving glance, Carrot then continued to lay his affections upon his wife.

As the feeling of his soft touch swept through her, she wiped her head across the pillow. As a taste remained, it was not the flavor of the frosting that stood out most on her lips.

No, a different taste jumped to the fore, a taste that Cup Cake adored more than anything that had been prepared in their kitchen over their lives together. Their happy lives, their journey.

Carrot crept down her body, his lips touching to her chest, her stomach, her navel, and farther still. As Carrot did he gathered a taste that washed the frosting from his mouth until it receded as a happy memory.

No, a different taste sat there, one that was dearer to him than anything else in this world.

A taste drifted across both of their senses as Carrot lingered his lips across her. It was a taste sweeter than any in the world, a taste as wonderful and intoxicating as any meal they had ever eaten and yet at once as familiar to each other as the feel of their shared touch and the glance of their eyes.

It was a taste of themselves: a taste of the friend, a taste of the lover, of the partner, of the husband and wife, of the two ponies who had shared the journey… a taste of this other self.

It was a taste that they cherished and embraced more than anything else in the world, a taste that had long washed through them and still bound them closer and closer to one another…

… a sweet taste of Cake.

End.

The Game of This

Chapter 3: The Game of This

With the roof settled and set, it certainly seemed very much like a gingerbread house.

Carrot looked to her, listened as she hummed in reflection upon the creation as it came together.

It looked like a gingerbread house, but only in the vaguest of terms. It was only so much gingerbread, held in place with thick white frosting that quickly dried and began to chip and flake.

Carrot looked past the great dollop frosting that sat upon his own nose, smiled as he heard her laughing at the way his eyes crossed to ponder it.

He watched as she quietly gathered up the next bit of their work, the thinner frosting, more decorative and better able to hold the candy and treats they would be affixing.

He let her lead, knew to let her decide how this next part would play out. Thus they played to her strengths, her decisiveness and insight. As such, they went back and forth from their own strengths, each relying on the other's talents as they had long ago learned to do…

The spring was full now and moving into summer. As a very, very happy colt trotted through the village, he whistled to himself and barely could keep from smiling.

These weeks, these blessed, happy weeks, had been some of the best of Carrot's life.

As the weekend approached, his heart would grow fuller, know that he would soon be with her. Even the very thought that she would be visiting the mill with Ivory was enough to add bounce to his steps, drawing him quickly towards the big brick building that sat in the morning light beyond the bridge.

He would happily endure the long hours in the bagging stall if it meant that she would sit next to him during his break, that she would share the lunch that she had made for him. How happily he would whistle and hum as the afternoon wore on and on, just her presence in the building being enough to get him through the tedious work.

And then, as the whistle blew, he would quickly trot down the stairs and meet her with a nuzzle outside the office door, simply swim in the simple joy of walking her home.

Well, not home, to Ivory's. Did she even have a home? Had she lived here in Ponyville?

Carrot skidded across the bridge a touch, the bounce coming out of his step. He looked down at the river and pondered the mill wheel for a moment.

There were still things he did not know about her, things she had not told him. His face dropped as he looked at his own reflection in the pond far below. Of course she had not, he thought, why would she?

She was under no obligation, he had not told her everything either. He had let her take the lead, had hoped that she would want to let him into her life more than she had to this point. But, she had not. There were still things she was hiding from him.

Hiding? Carrot shook his head, scowled at the under-bitten colt in the waters below, the orange freckles standing out on the amber coat even as the waters shimmered below.

He wouldn't believe it… there was no reason to believe it. He trusted her, knew that she was opening herself up to him more each time they met. She nuzzled him so freely now, spoke so easily in his presence. Everything that he knew about mares, or thought he knew, told him that the promise made at the touch of their noses those two months ago was true. She did want to be with him, to be near him, just as much as he longed to be with her.

So, why was not she telling him these things?

He lifted his head, gave a snort of determination. He would deal with these things if and when the time came. He would trust her first, let her decide how it moved.

With that, the thought of looking into those rose colored eyes filled him, and these issues slipped away as he trotted over the bridge to the mill beyond.

Carrot came trotting around the mill only to discover the unusual sight of his co-workers standing back from the door. As he looked to them, he saw an expression of apprehension across their faces.

The bell in the city had not yet begun to toll out the hour, yet even though he was early as always, it was not the usual scene of happy chatting that had met him. Instead a very palpable cloud of unease hung over them.

"Hey," Carrot said, turning to Soap Suds, "what's…"

At once an audible crash resonated throughout the interior of the mill. The cacophony was quickly repeated; something large and ceramic seemed to burst apart across the windows of the large doors, flying into pieces as the staff looked on.

The doors came open, thrown wide violently, and a bellowing voice screamed invectives from within.

At once a stallion is a seersucker suit came galloping out of the mill, his eyes wide with fear. He turned, looked back, called for somepony to follow him in a voice that was alive with panic.

As he did, a briefcase struck him, thrown directly at him. As it popped open, he tripped down the stairs, landed with a cry of pain. As papers floated around him, the stallion fought to his hooves.

No sooner had he done so than another stallion landed upon him, this one having been thrown bodily from the building. He cried out in pain as he landed half upon his comrade and half upon the gravel of the walkway.

"What in the Well is wrong with you?!" the first stallion called up to the door as he tried to help his partner to his hooves, "What in the Well are you…"

He stopped, his fear now matching that which his business partner had worn only a few minutes before.

A hush fell over the assembled mill workers as a massive shadow appeared in the doorway. There, an immense, steaming, foaming stallion appeared. Rage was written across his face, and as he eyed the two businessponies, the assembly took a step backwards.

"Comin' in here all slick with fat promises and snake oil! You had a deal! A contract! You lied to him, lied!"

The words rang out, the tone of the stallion high, enraged.

"Lyin', thievin' garbage!" be bellowed.

"It's just business!" answered the first stallion to have left the building, flinging papers into the briefcase as his nose bled. His words seemed only to make the vast stallion madder and at once he began diving down the stairs, sending the two stallions running in terror through the assembled workers. As they went, the second one hobbled along, grasping at the other as they fled.

"You little piece of…" roared the stallion, rearing, scanning for them through the crowd that stepped back in fright.

"Quarry!"

Silence fell over the scene. The only sound that Carrot could make out in the hush that followed was the heaving and the gasping for breath of this immense stallion, the whispers of curses that still dripped from his lips.

"Dammit, Quarry!" called Ledger from the top of the stairs. "Every time you come around it costs me a supplier!"

The vast stallion, Quarry, lifted his head and cast his eyes over the crowd of workers. Carrot saw the muscles still twitching beneath the tan coat, saw the eyes fall over the workers who looked away or startled as he looked upon them.

Soon Quarry turned, cantered back up the steps and within as Ledger shook his head.

Moments passed. Eventually small talk broke out as the workers made their way towards the doors. Even as he was buffeted by the crowd and was carried along, Carrot tried to grab at snippets of conversations that floated around him.

"… and said that they wanted a new contract or they'd seek legal..."

"Oh Celestia, I've not been so afraid in years."

"… and Miss Ivory and her friend looked so scared."

Carrot bolted in place, his head going back and forth, searching the crowd. He did not see them, did not see the two the mares. Terrible thoughts flew through him, and at once he felt himself fighting forward through the crowd.

They were skipping the office; no pony was stopping to sign in on the timesheet. As he got nearer, he realized why there were no long, slow lines of ponies going through the practiced motion.

He fought to get into the office, literally crashed to the floor as he hurdled through the flow of workers. His hooves splayed out around him as hit the floor, as he lifted his head searching for her.

The mares were right in front of him, and as he raised himself, he attempted to gauge their expressions. Instead, all he could really do was try to grab their attention as they stared at the door to Ledger's office.

A loud voice flowed from within, and to Carrot's surprise, it was Ledger's, not that of the terrifying stallion. Carrot shook himself and spoke her name.

"Cupcake…" he called as he raised his hoof to her, some part deep within him desperate to get her away from this place.

To his utter shock and complete amazement, she simply stood still, a look of restrained worry and panic hanging over her.

Carrot floated in a world of astonishment. Why? Why would she rather stay here with the presence of the big, threatening stallion just beyond the doors than come out with him?

Did she not want to leave Ivory alone? Was she trying to stay near Ledger, did she find him safer to be with?

"Cupcake?" he asked again softly, his foreleg lifting to her, begging with her to come away from the loud voices that sounded out in the room beyond.

He saw only the fear behind her eyes, saw worry and concern hidden there, and a part of himself demanded that he stay put.

As the door to Ledger's office came open that was the part he answered.

He quickly gathered up a pencil, sought his slot on the timesheet, and began attempting to write his name with his hooves rather than gather it to his mouth… the polite way to do so with a communal item.

"I'm sorry, Ledger," came a deep voice, a powerful one that rumbled around the room. "Ya' know how I feel about… loyalty, promises. How… upset, I get when ponies break their word."

The presence of Quarry filled the room. He filled the room as though with an aura of power and barely hidden suspicion.

"I need a minute," spoke a tired looking Ledger as he closed the door to his office, sealing the two mares and the colt in the room with the huge stallion.

Silence hovered there for a moment, only the sound of the deep breaths of the stallion and Carrot scratching out his name breaking it in that uncomfortable moment.

At once came hooffalls, and soon Carrot felt the eyes of the stallion on him, felt the heavy breath crossing over his back.

Carrot fought to finish writing his name, tried his best to seem casual as he lowered the pencil back down into the tray.

"Cake, huh?" spoke the stallion, utterly ignoring any respect for Carrot's personal space as he leaned in next him. "How long have ya' worked here, colt?"

The tone was not polite. I was an inquiry, a retrieval of information, and a part of Carrot sensed that the stallion was not looking for general conversation.

Carrot turned, looked up into the face of the stallion. "A-about four months, sir," he said, trembling a bit despite his determination not to.

"Figured that's why I don't know who the buck you are," said the stallion, dropping his voice, seeming only now to have recovered his breath. "You're one of the new crew Ledger brought in. You know how lucky you are, colt?"

"Y-Yessir, I-I do," stammered Carrot, "Mr. Ledger's been very g-good to me to g-give me this job while-while I… while I try to find something that m-matches my mark…"

The stallion stared back at Carrot for a long while. As he did Carrot felt himself becoming smaller, felt himself stepping back towards the timesheet on uncertain hooves.

Even as this stallion eyed him, Carrot could not help but notice that he was older, perhaps more than a decade older. Perhaps even two, as far as the Well knew. As the stallion kept his eyes on him, Carrot saw the look that dwelt in them. Past their searching and judging hung a look that Carrot could only describe as… hunted.

"They're good folk, Ledger and his kin," said the stallion as his breath steamed over Carrot, almost gagging him.

The stallion turned slowly. Carrot felt revulsion crawling over him as the stallion stood between him and the mares, as the stallion let a big smile cross his face.

"Good folks. Folks with a pretty daughter who's as smart as a whip," spoke the stallion, opening his mouth wide with a smile. Carrot at once wanted to leap to the mares, grab up Cupcake and Ivory too if he could and dive with them through the distant windows to safety.

The casual ease with which Quarry walked around the room, the way his eyes hung over the mares... these sent waves of panic through the colt.

"Thank-thank you," breathed Ivory as she painted a small smile.

"I'm sorry you girls saw me this way," said the stallion, turning towards the large chairs that lined the back wall of the office, "I get… upset, you know…"

Carrot watched with disgust and apprehension as the stallion laid upon the chair with a grunt, his huge hooves striking the ground with deliberate sounds.

His eyes flashed to Cupcake. She was motioning to him, begging him to move. "Go!" she mouthed. "Please!"

Carrot looked to the large stallion that made groaning sounds as he adjusted himself and then back to Cupcake with trepidation. "I don't want to leave you here, I don't want to leave you alone with…" said his eyes.

"Please…" hers replied.

It took nearly everything he could muster, but as ten thousand different parts within him begged him not to, he turned from the office and made for his bagging stall high above.

He started off at a walk, but was soon cantering… cantering the length of the mill until his hooves struck the stairs. As he stumbled up them, he let out little breaths, and inside his mind unhappy thoughts set themselves firmly.

Long hours passed, and as time sped on, Carrot simply went through the motions of his work, became an automaton. His thoughts lingered over what had transpired in the office below. Confusion drifted over him, rocked through his guts.

Press the clutch, take out the old bag, place the new one, drop the clutch, lift the bag to the slowly lifting containers and ponder why she had begged him to go. Press the clutch, take out the old bag, place the new one, drop the clutch, lift the bag to the slowly endlessly turning bins and fret over it some more.

At once the touch of a soft hoof to his outstretched leg snapped him out of his worried thoughts.

He looked down to where it lay upon him. He placed his hoof over hers without looking up, almost reflexively, as though it were the most natural act in the world.

"Oh, Carrot…"

Rose-colored eyes looked up to him, and as he stared down into them he tilted his head back and forth.

"Please, oh Carrot, please come with me. Please come with me right now…"

She pulled on him gently, looked down to where Ivory stood motioning to Trammel. As the supervisor pulled the safety once more, she guided him out of the stall, saw the questions that sat behind those green eyes.

As Trammel nodded, she led him past all of the belts and wheels, leading him down the stairs and out into the late morning sun.

The entirety of the staff of bagging floor watched them go, watched the two ponies go down the stairs and out through the mill below.

Soon Ivory cleared her throat, and all looked to her as she spoke.

"I-I'm afraid I need your assistance," she said as her voice broke slightly. "In a personal matter."

Carrot let her lead him, lead him as far as she wanted to go. He let her lead him until her hoof dropped and she looked up and down the road in worry, as though she were searching for something.

He watched as her hoof covered her mouth, as her head shifted and trembled. At once she turned to him, asked him to follow with her eyes, a wordless entreat hiding behind them.

He, of course, followed.

Soon they were trotting across the bridge, their hooves sounding out across the boards. To his surprise they went down the embankment just at the end of the bridge, and for a moment, he thought that they were headed for the very same spot where they had shared their swan-infested lunch upon the blanket weeks before.

His surprise grew as he cleared the bushes and, instead of heading down the worn path, he felt her tug him beneath the abutment of the bridge itself.

She drew him far beneath it, up against the very cool stones to where the wood of the bridge dove into the masonry. A musty smell hovered in the cool air.

"Cupcake," he asked, softly, "what, what is…"

Almost immediately she had pressed herself against him, placed her chest to his so firmly that his rear legs collapsed. Soon he was sitting upon the cool stones. She pressed further; diving into his chest until her head rested against the side of his neck, as she gave small concerned sighs and sat before him. Soon he felt himself stroking her forelegs with his hooves in worry for her.

"Oh, Carrot…"

"Cupcake, are-are you okay? W-what's going on?" he asked once more, still drawing his hooves up and down her forelegs slowly, as though trying to ease a fear in her that he sensed but could not name.

"Carrot," she asked, "do you trust me? Do you trust me, Carrot?"

"Yes," he answered without hesitation, "yes, Cupcake, I trust you. I do, Cupcake."

He felt her take a few more deep breaths. In a moment, she lifted herself from him. She took a step back, her rear hooves skidding slightly across the slick round stones that made up the interior of the abutment.

She looked to the stones and then back up to him, reaching out her hoof. As he placed his upon it, she breathed a sad truth.

"Oh Carrot, this is going to be hard for you. Carrot, I-I'm keepin' something from you… I have somethin' I haven't been sharing with you…"

Carrot nodded to her.

"Go, go on Cupcake, I trust you…you, can tell me anything," he beseeched, leaning his head forward, encouraging her to give up whatever secret was troubling her so deeply. "There's noth-nothing you can tell me that…"

"Oh, no, Carrot, that's not what I mean!" she spoke as she looked him fully in the face, hers beginning to wrinkle with anxiety. "What I'm telling ya' is that I am going to keep something from you. That there's something I'm not going to tell you."

Cupcake watched the color drain out of him.

"I, I have to do this, Carrot!" she exclaimed, her voice ringing off of the wooden parts of the bridge above. "I've been thinking about this since the second I got home, well… to Ive's, from our first date! From the moment Ivory learned that she was a finalist for the internship… this is my plan, Carrot. I, I can't think of any other way for us to… to…!"

Carrot's head followed her as she wiped her hooves together, watched her swing her head back and forth. As he did, he saw her thinking, running through something in her mind. At once the decisiveness and planning, that part of her, her strength that he so admired was at the surface and steaming away, scheming…

… scheming so that they could be together.

"This is the only way I can think to do it, Carrot. This, this is all we can do…"

He did not understand. His confusion mixed with feelings he did not want, did not like associating with her. He had so many questions. Why… what was keeping them from being together in her eyes? All he knew was that she seemed to be in pain, filled with worry. "This" was causing her to fret and be bothered. "This" was causing tears to well up at the edge of those perfect rosy eyes.

Suddenly he hated "This." He hated "This", and he did not even know what "This" was.

"Oh, Carrot, please don't be mad!" she said, catching the reflection of the emotion. "Please don't be upset with…"

She gave a small yelp. Before she even had time to understand what had happened, she was caught up in his embrace, was once more deep in his chest, and her fear melted into him and was dissipated through him.

He held her close, held her until her heartbeat slowed to match his, until her fretful breaths matched his measured ones and she was again calm.

"I trust you, Carrot. I'm-I'm falling in love with you, and I…" she said as she let the tension fall out of her, "this is the only way I can think to keep… keep things from ending up like…"

"Cupcake," he interrupted, "does, does 'This' end with you safe and happy, able to see yourself as-as being with me?"

There was so much more that Cupcake had wanted to tell him. She had wanted to tell him that there were two players in the game that "This" entailed, and that even as they sat here beneath the bridge Ivory was explaining the rules to the mill workers, that she had been spreading word through all of Ponyville.

In "The Game of This", all of the participants, she had wanted to tell him, were cheering for him… for them.

She had told him that she was falling in love, not that she was, because she did not know what that looked like, felt like, tasted like. She had not been allowed to… she had never been given the opportunity. She tried to think of a way to explain that but, instead, an idea caught happily inside her.

Instead, she decided to forego those words. Instead, she lifted her nose, answered his questions by once more inviting him into her warm touch. Slowly he lowered his nose to hers, and slowly the motions fell between them in long circles. Soon they were touching their faces to one another, laying her cheek to his, neck to neck until their heads lay across the withers of the other.

Suddenly, he loved "This". He loved "This" and he did not even know what "This" was.

Across the river a whistle sounded out, calling those within the mill to their breaks in a cloud of steam.

"I-I brought you lunch again today," she said softly.

"Th-thank you so much," he said as his head lay gently over hers, as they sat there chest against chest and heartbeat to heartbeat under the bridge.

The sound of carts crossing the planks above reverberated around them. Nearby the river flowed silently into the pond, the big waterwheel still sounding out its soft rhythm.

Being Quarry means that they have taken everything from you that you have ever built.

Being Quarry means that they have manipulated you, lied to you, and deceived you.

Being Quarry means that they have thought themselves smarter than you, and often they have been right.

Being Quarry means that you have decided that they will be dealt with in the only ways you know how: through violence, anger, and rage.

Cup Cake rested her head on her hoof, leaned against the clean countertop as she watched him make tiny, practiced motions.

Carrot blinked, let his eyes focus past the big splotch of frosting that she had placed on the end of his nose. As he did, he moved the tiny tubes of icing around in measured paces, let them slowly make an image appear upon the front of the gingerbread house.

Cup Cake smiled to herself and pondered his hooves. She thought about how careful and cautious he was being. This was his domain, his part of the project. This detailed work played to his strengths, let the stallion work a very important part of himself into the unfolding creation of the gingerbread house.

His careful yet deliberate movements were shining forth, revealing their prowess in his work. She watched with pride as her husband used his talents.

At once the motions of his hooves, his perfectly controlled, deliberate, and perfect movements, sent a lovely thought passing through her. In her mind she began to think of how she too had always received such loving attention from those hooves, how his hooves had always been set to her needs in pursuits far more personal and intimate than the one now playing out in their kitchen.

Surprised at where her own thoughts had led her, she blushed, smiled, and looked up to him warmly.

Carrot arched an eyebrow at her, gave her a small smile even as he continued his craft. With a giggle, she still went off to make up some more frosting.

By the time she had returned he already stood at the end of the table, pondering what he had created there.

She moved to stand beside him, and soon she too contemplated what he had made.

The little doorway stood out in perfect relief against the slick surface of the gingerbread house.

She leaned against him once more, smiling and making small sounds of approval at his work. The door upon the gingerbread awakened something of a remembrance within the two as the morning moved on, and they stood together in the warm kitchen of the bakery.

"C'mon," he cried once more, still leading her by the hoof. "It's just over here!"

Cupcake actually had to trot to keep up with him, so great was his enthusiasm, his long gangly legs greatly outpacing hers with each of his exuberant bounds.

Yet, he never left her behind. He constantly turned to her, took half steps in his eagerness to show her whatever he had discovered.

Even as he smiled at her, he could still see her head on a swivel, see her looking through the crowds of ponies… worrying over something she was still not telling him about. Even these weeks after telling him about "This", it remained shadowed.

He removed the thought from his head, trusted that the game of "This" would play out as she was planning it. It was now his turn to put a new piece in play.

As the summer's day grew even more muggy and humid around Carrot, he waited for Cupcake to come closer to himself as they rounded the market square. He placed his hoof over her eyes and guided her with little movements as she giggled.

"Tada!" called Carrot, lifting his hoof and inflating his chest.

"Oh… umm, yes," said Cupcake, reflecting upon what sat before her.

The building looked ill, as though it were holding itself up by determination alone. It looked forlorn, empty. It had about it the air of mild decay and costly plumbing repairs.

She had seen it many times before sitting there in the middle of downtown Ponyville and had never paid the structure any real attention. Why was he showing her this?

She looked the ramshackle structure over once more, studied it from the faded roof to the worn foundation. Her eyes moved from the gutters where small trees grew and caught on something that sat in the dusty window.

It was a "For Sale" sign.

She gave a gasp of insight as he drew her closer. Carrot ran his hoof upon the dirty windows, cleaning them so they could both peer within.

She looked inside, saw light filtering through a huge rustic interior. Even in the few shafts of luminescence, she could see tall woodwork that was surprisingly robust and handsome, and as Carrot spoke, she began to understand.

"It's centrally located, and I know where there's some old ovens a friend can let me borrow until I can buy some new ones," he began as he peered within. "I, I also have some utensils and bake ware I've picked up. After I got my mark I started collecting, ya' see…"

"Carrot," she breathed, the realization now setting in firmly, "Carrot, are-are you saying you'd like to turn this into a bakery?"

Carrot smiled back at her.

Slowly the pieces of the game began moving again for Cupcake. Now that this opportunity was in play, she realized, there were ways…

She looked the window up and down, put her hoof over her eyes and squinted, looking deep within.

"Carrot," she said in a tone of authority, "how many rooms? What is it zoned?"

Carrot startled and began looking the "For Sale Sign" over for any information. Finding none, he looked up to her in ignorance, shrugging his shoulders.

"Oh! Let me see if there's a wood burnin' furnace!" she said as she brushed past him, running her hoof through his mane. "Check the windows on that side over there! See if there's any furniture, count rooms!"

Carrot followed her orders, happy to see how engrossed she was becoming. As he peered through a few more windows, he caught her movement on the far side of the building, saw a smile upon her face. She moved from window to window, peering through the rooms.

He saw her approaching the corner of the building, and at once a clever thought went through Carrot.

He trotted to the corner, lowered himself with a smile, and extended his nose. With a happy laugh he thought of catching her in a surprise nuzzle, his smile growing as he anticipated the soft, warm feel.

At once there was the sound of a body in motion and the feel of contact shot through him.

"Hello?" came the rather surprised voice of a stallion. "Can I help you?"

Carrot opened his eyes to find himself nose to nose with a big grey fellow with glasses, an umbrella, and a briefcase.

"I, errr, we… hi," answered a rather disappointed Carrot. He looked past this other stallion, saw Cupcake standing behind him, giggling as she realized what he had planned, as she had seen it go wrong.

"I'm the realtor," said the stallion, adjusting his glasses. "Saw ya' both looking it over from my office across the way. Can I show you folks around the inside?"

"Oh, yes," replied Cupcake as she smiled at him. "That would be lovely!"

As the realtor walked past him, Carrot felt an unusual sensation. Cupcake had lifted herself upon his back, her two forelegs across his withers. Almost instantly he felt his ear in her mouth and a slight nibble followed.

As she slid off of him she ran her face across his. She had seen what he had tried to do… and approved. Happily, he took her hoof and they followed the realtor as he passed within the door of the structure.

Dust covered everything. She wondered how long it had been unoccupied. As she listened to the realtor, she both contemplated his words and watched as Carrot trotted from room to room, exploring gleefully like a foal would do. As the trio made their way into the back rooms she realized what a good kitchen it would make.

She turned to tell Carrot this, to point out how well it would work. When she found him, he was doing something that she did not quite understand.

Carrot stood above a dusty patch, looking down into something. Even as she listened to the realtor, she watched Carrot slowly, deliberately place his hoof into the dust. His motion as he did so was slow, calculated…

At once Carrot's voice called out to them and his eyes lifted to a set of stairs nearby. Soon they passed out of the back room and headed for the stairs. As they did, Cupcake stopped to peer into the dust that had caught his attention. The second she did she realized what he had done.

A trail of her own hoofprints sat in the dust, marking where she had passed earlier. There, alongside the crispest, clearest of the marks now sat one of his. His print overlapped hers just in the slightest and just beneath. It cradled her print, embraced it.

She lifted her eyes, heard him talking the ear off the realtor as they climbed the stairs. As his vision for the place grew, ringing around the shop space and soon echoing through the rooms above, she looked back down to the prints that stood in the dust.

His vision and his dreams filled her. His voice, his joy at this possibility, these filled a part of her that she had been afraid to open for long months.

With small and deliberate motions of her own, she encircled the two prints with a heart, drawing it slowly so that no dust marred her work.

After nearly an hour, the realtor began to make motions that he would like to be on his way. As they all stood in the doorway, he pointed out his office across the road and mentioned a few numbers.

Cupcake winced as she saw the discomfort that flew across Carrot's face at the price. She quickly moved into him as he sat, as she saw him trying to figure things out in his mind. Placing herself to his chest, she nuzzled up beneath his chin, and soon he had leaned forward, gathering her into his forelegs.

The realtor blushed gladly, sought to assuage the fear of these two whose affections leapt to him. "I know that might sound like a big number, but I'd be happy to work with you on a loan. There are even some grants for reusing the structure, or opening a business that matches your marks. I know how it is, being newly married and trying to find your way in the world…"

The two turned to him from within their embrace.

"We-we aren't married!" giggled Cupcake.

"Oh," said the realtor, blushing brighter. "You'll forgive me. You can understand how'd I'd make that mistake, what with how well you two fit together like that... sorry that we didn't finish before the rain."

"Rain?" asked Carrot.

Right on cue, the realtor's umbrella snapped open. At once the pegasi released a torrent from the sky, one that they had not even noticed gathering in their eagerness to explore the building.

They had known that it was going to rain of course; it had been on the big schedule in the town square, just as it ever had been. Now it seemed that they would not be spending the storm within the theater or at the dancehall as they had planned.

Instead, they stood there beneath the ancient canopy of the building as the rain splattered across the cobblestones and filled the channels that lined the street. They watched it for a moment, standing there close together, happy in their shared warmth and touch.

As the rhythm of the rain continued, Carrot felt her turn, looked down to see her lifting her nose to him once more.

He placed his nose to hers, waited for her to lead him. Instead she gave a little twitch. At once he understood. She trusted him, wished for him to begin the motions. As he did he made broad strokes, let the feel of his touch fall through her slowly.

Soon she began to answer, and as the water streamed past the canopy that hung over the door she drifted through the feeling of him drawing his face down her cheek, past her neck in long, lingering movements.

He felt Cupcake give herself up to him, willfully falling into his motions. Once more, she leaned into him as he lifted his head across her neck, crept leisurely past her cheek, as his forehead touched to her forehead.

He leapt happily inside himself as she breathed small sounds of contentment while he drew his face across her, repeated the motions up and down her other side.

She drew Carrot up with a gentle nuzzle, and there a new motion greeted him. This time her expression asked something different of him, and with a petitioning glance she lifted her face once again.

This time she called his lips to hers, asked him to move with her in harmony, to come with her that much deeper. To share with her for the first time something wonderful.

He answered, answered at first with a soft touch, followed by a second. With that, Carrot was soon deep inside Cupcake's kiss, and she in his.

In that way they passed the rainstorm together, in the doorway, as the water slipped through the channels. A few wet ponies pelted past, splashing through the puddles that gathered quietly.

Names, Stairs, Arrivals, and Songs

Chapter 15: Names, Stairs, Arrivals, and Songs

The construction of the gingerbread house neared its completion.

Together they wordlessly studied it, looked it over, and made mental checklists of what needed to be accomplished before they could consider the work to be truly finished.

As they circled the table, they made little adjustments, pieced back together some loose bits of trim, straightened the gingerbread ponies, and placed a few more candies to even out the visual balance.

As they went, they were suddenly aware of the sound of hooves overhead, ringing out softly across the ceiling above.

Pinkie had been out late last night, rehearsing her part in the Hearth's Warming pageant that she was going to perform in that very evening. They had not woken her. They knew that the train trip to the capital and all that involved would tax even her abundant energy.

As they listened, her voice seemed to float down the stairs, the pure tone of the mare filling their bakery and home as it lifted a holiday tune. Above them the sound of her bathtub filling crossed over them, and the old pipes rattled in a sort of harmony with her song.

Carrot looked up to Cup Cake, saw her too listening to the cheerful strains of Pinkie's song. In the few years that had passed since her arrival, they had become accustomed to her voice, her bounce, her very presence in the house.

Truth be told, they were very glad for it, had learned from it… had come to see her as…

"Uh oh!" rose the voice of the pink mare, the expression behind it evident even as it fell quietly down the stairs.

At once a look shot between them. Immediately Carrot and Cup Cake had leapt for a stand nearby.

A few moments later the water began to erupt out of the sinks, come cascading down the steps and dripping through a few weak spots in the ceiling.

The couple stood together, their umbrellas open above the gingerbread house, protecting it from any harm.

As the water began to slow, they simply stood there, knowing as they had come to know that life with Pinkie Pie was a daring adventure or nothing, one that they had accepted as part of the greater journey of their marriage.

As they stood there in the dripping kitchen, holding the umbrellas awkwardly, she pressed herself into his chest once more. As he lowered his head over her, they sighed and laughed, soaking in the absurdity that had become such a welcome part of their lives… and all that came with that.

It would have been easy enough to get mad, to demand an explanation from the young mare. Instead they simply swayed together as the last few drops fell, knew how Pinkie would react, and knew how they had learned to react in time with her… how they too had grown from having her here.

It was all just part of life with Pinkie, a life that they welcomed indeed.

Instead all that they did was continue to rock one another and protect the gingerbread house… the dollop of white frosting upon Carrot's nose still the only pressing concern in Cup Cake's mind as the warmth of the ovens began to turn the water into vapor and an embracing mugginess overtook the kitchen.

The summer after Pinkie had arrived was perhaps a little cloudier than most and maybe just a few degrees colder on average, the pegasi doing their best to satiate the needs of Equestria while striking an equilibrium with the world outside its borders.

There were still more than enough days to go swimming and sit under a shady tree, to find blackberries and stay up late into the warm nights.

Under their tutelage, Pinkie Pie was becoming something of an accomplished baker, even if the going was difficult at times.

She had taken to all that Carrot and Cupcake had sought to teach her with energy and gusto. It was her lack of focus that sometimes resulted in problems.

More than once she had returned to a project only to begin the next one, discovering the burned remains of a torte or the charred crusts of pies deep within the oven.

With a sheepish smile she would clear away her own mess and begin again.

One day, as Cupcake had been working in the kitchen, she called for Carrot to see to a customer in the showcase room.

As she did, she remembered that he had gone into the city, seeking to talk to a supplier who seemed to not know the difference between "dozen" and "gross."

She began to clean herself up when the sound of Pinkie's voice lifted from the room beyond. After a moment laughter flowed around the room, Cupcake listening in as the cash register rang out for the first time under the hoof of the younger mare.

To her surprise the talking continued and the laughter rose again… and the cash register sounded out once more.

As she finished cleaning herself she went out into the room where the treats all stood awaiting purchase.

"That new girl of yours is quite the whip!" said an older pony in a crumpled hat, a wide smile across his face as he waved. As he departed the store, Cupcake looked to the beaming Pinkie Pie.

"Pinkie?" she asked. "Did you just wait on your first customer?"

"Oh, yeah! Hey! I guess I did! I… oh, I did do it right, right? I mean the money is all here!" said Pinkie, opening the cash drawer once more and suddenly looking very concerned.

"Of course it is, Dearie," answered Cupcake, assuaging Pinkie's fear, "I'm just surprised that… that you seemed to enjoy it so much. Did, did you enjoy it?"

"He, he!" giggled Pinkie. "Well… yeah, I did! I like talking to ponies and ponies like talking to me and if I could I'd meet everypony and be nice to everypony and…"

Cupcake smiled to her. To Pinkie's surprise she felt Cupcake leaning to her, and with that she grabbed her up in a hug.

Carrot Cake returned to his shop with a refund check. To his surprise it was Pinkie Pie who placed it within the register, a rather full looking tip jar being evidence of the success of her interaction with the patrons of the bakery.

Clearly, working with other ponies was not her weakness.

Her problem was focus. Within the mare was something that didn't seem to be falling into place, something that was blocking her larger attempts to utilize her mark.

It was something wrong inside of her, some simple cadence of her own magic that was going unfocussed. She seemed to be having trouble developing her own rhythm, as though she had somehow missed a cog in one of her gears.

She would begin to sing a song, or dance a dance, and with that, all of her abilities would clog up and she would seem to freeze. Carrot and Cupcake could see that she wanted to power through it, to utilize that part of herself, but it was somehow as though that part of her was blocked up… a part of her that simply had to release itself as randomness, a useless expenditure of energy that seemed to draw more out of her than it provided.

There was no more evident example of that failing than the day that she asked to host the first party to be held in the attic.

Upon reopening the passageway that they had long assumed was a closet, they now had a way to access the room without passing through any of their living spaces. As the door came off, it was indeed shown to be a stairwell, a fine one with big steps and a proper railing.

A small knot of stallions ranging from Carrot's friends, Cupcake's brother and nephew, and Carrot and Quarry themselves had assembled with the expressed purpose of removing the old trapdoor and repairing the floor and ceiling.

As with most such projects, it devolved to most of the stallions enjoying the products of the bakery while a cursing Quarry and Carrot did most of the work.

Pinkie had cleaned the space until it shone, Carrot watching open-mouthed as she somehow held herself aloft with balloons to clear the overhead beams of their dust.

It was a birthday party for an older mare. Even as the patrons had grumbled about climbing the stairs, they all went quiet as they entered the room, soon calling out about how beautiful it was as Pinkie greeted them.

Carrot retreated downstairs to tend to the bakery, seeing to the customers that were coming in even as the party went on two floors above.

It started off well enough. As Cupcake or Pinkie would come downstairs to fetch more treats, he would inquire as to how it was all going.

"Oh, just dandy!" Cupcake would say, and then he would return to his baking.

A few minutes later, Pinkie came down the stairs and trotted into the kitchen, dropping plates into the sink.

"And how are things going up there?" he asked, smiling to her.

"Oh, pretty good I think!" she said with a little smile before heading back up the stairs.

He tilted his head and watched her go. She seemed to be less enthusiastic than she had been.

A while later Cupcake came down the stairs. As she fetched up some more little casks of things to drink he looked to her and asked, "How is it going?"

The look he gave him was not enthusiastic. "It's… it is going okay," she said, her eyes telling him that something had happened.

"What?" he asked while concern rose in his voice. "Ginger Snap, what's wrong?"

"Oh, Carrot," she said, leaning against him gently, "nothing's wrong… what isn't going right, that's causing the problem."

Carrot brushed against his wife, nuzzled her and asked for an explanation. She lifted her head and whispered in his ear.

"She's trying so hard, Carrot, but she's nervous… nervous on the inside and she can't get past it. This isn't going well for her! Oh, poor Pinkie, she's missing her mark!" whispered Cupcake with some small anxiety in her voice.

With that she trotted off again, leaving him struggling to understand how the ball of energy that had bounced into their lives could be nervous about anything.

"This" was not good. That word again…

As the afternoon came to an end, Carrot met the mares who came down the stairs, held the door open for them as they departed. He tried to gauge their expressions, especially that of the mare who had been the focus of the celebration.

They seemed… pleased. Satisfied. Content.

As in opposed to happy, jubilant, or even cheerful.

As the one mare who had planned the party met him to settle the account, he probed for answers as to what had transpired above.

"Were, were you happy with the room, with how the party went?" he asked, gulping slightly.

"Oh, yes, it went fine," she answered while laying her bits on the table.

Silence reigned over the room as he wrote out her receipt.

"Nothing, nothing… went wrong, did it?" he asked as he passed it to her.

"Oh, well, no… nothing too wrong," she said, the very way she tried to phrase it politely making him jump in place. "But if you're going to have a birthday party you should have your hostess, the pink mare, learn the words to the songs and the like…"

"What?" he breathed as disbelief shot through him. "I mean… I'm sorry, it is her first party here, you see, our first ever in that room…"

"Well," she said, stuffing a few bits into the gratuity envelope, "thank you for using it, and best of luck with it in the future."

With that the mare laid the envelope on the counter and trotted out the door. Before the door had even completely shut, he was already going up the recently discovered stairs, grabbing wildly at the envelope as he went.

Pinkie had told them about dozens of parties that she had thrown. Every foal in elementary school knew the words to the birthday songs. Something was wrong, this he knew.

He continued straight up the stairs rather than turning through the former closet, went up to where the door to the upstairs room met him.

Cupcake stood there as though knowing that he would come. As he gained the landing, she put her hoof in his and pointed across the room.

Pinkie stood there slowly pushing the garbage can around from place to place, filling it with trash, leftovers, and at times seeming to try to stuff entire tables into it in an absent-minded fog.

To their surprise her mane and tail hung limp, as though the life itself had come out of it, and as she went, she gave little sounds of worry.

Carrot and Cupcake came trotting forward. As they did, she tried to smile at them. As she saw them looking at her, she realized her attempts were for nothing, that they could see the expression that was going across her.

"I-I don't know what went wrong!" she cried, seeming to jump in place and to move in a little circle. "I-I've thrown hundred of birthday parties! Hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of parties! I don't know why I… why I…"

Cupcake followed her as she began to trot to the far side of the attic, raised her hoof to her as she cantered back towards them.

"I don't know… don't know why I couldn't sing…" she said as she plopped herself down in the middle of the room, her eyes beginning to water.

"I don't know why I couldn't dance! I do, I try to all the time but this time I couldn't and I'm so sorry and now nopony is gonna wanna have a party here and we…"

Cupcake nuzzled her, sat with her as Carrot stared on in sympathy.

A few words dripped out of Pinkie, Cupcake literally lowering her head to try to hear them. When the pink mare spoke again, it literally came out as a bawl.

"Pinkie," she said, gathering up the hoof of the pink mare, "what's wrong, Dearie? Oh, Pinkie, please say it again…"

"All-all of a sudden I-I miss my momma and poppa… I want my momma and poppa!" she said as tears began to fall from her big blue eyes.

In one motion Cupcake was cradling her, rocking her. Carrot could see the emotions filling her now. She was afraid and uncertain. She didn't understand why her own magic, her mark, had failed her.

"My Granny Pie said to giggle at the ghosties until they go away, but this isn't a ghostie… it's me! I can't giggle at me, I don't know how to make this go away! I don't know what to do, what to do, what to do!"

She was simply too far from home… a little filly fresh off the farm, away from her family and dealing with something she did not understand. For the first time in her dawning adult life she had a problem, one that her indomitable spirit seemed unable to overcome.

He watched as Cupcake cradled her, rocked her and made shushing noises.

"I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry! I thought that I'd do better here… but it's only worse! It's only worse!" bawled Pinkie, her tears only getting heavier as all of the little emotions she had been hiding since the day she arrived at Sugar Cube Corner revealed themselves.

Carrot saw Cupcake's eyes flash to him, saw his wife raise her hoof and implore him to come to where they stood.

He came to them, sat down with them, uncertain about what he should do. He did not know if it was the right thing to embrace this younger mare, this girl he had only known for a few weeks.

As Pinkie leaned into him, he received his answer. He joined his wife in the slow rocking motion, letting Pinkie sit between them as the afternoon light from the windows fell across them.

Mint sun tea, flavored with milk and honey… as the ponies sat in Pinkie's little sitting room, this is what they had her drink. As they spoke quietly, they brought dinner up to her parlor, did what they could to make it seem like a quiet dinner at home.

The afternoon drew on into night, and as the uncertainty had washed out of her eyes, it had been replaced by an honestly earned tiredness.

Carrot stood, moved to an envelope that he had awkwardly been carrying with him all that long afternoon. He tore it open and let the bits fall out. He pressed a share into Pinkie's hoof. The mare looked down over it with confusion across her face.

"But… but I didn't do a very good job," she said, her voice still small.

"You did the best you could, Pinkie Pie," he said, trying to sound something like what he imagined a father would sound like, "and without you the room would never have been used in the first place…"

He turned back to see her looking at him as a surprised look settled over her.

"… you did okay, Pinkie Pie, you did fine."

Finally, after long hours of waiting, her smile had returned to the rooms above the bakery.

Carrot and Cupcake walked out of the darkened suite a short while later, gently closing the door behind them.

As they walked down the hallway to their room, yawns of their own lifted from them, the two leaning against each other as they went.

He waited for her as she finished preparing for bed, let the sound of the summer night come drifting through the wide windows.

As she left the bathroom, she came up to him, sat down at his side of the bed and looked at him, searching through his eyes.

Yes, he replied wordlessly, I knew it would be difficult.

Yes, his eyes told her, we will find a way to help her.

Yes, his stare stated, we will help her get through "This."

Yes, this is a rocky part of the journey, one that I'm still very, very, very glad you're here to help me along.

She smiled down over him, kissed his nose, forehead, and drew his ear through her mouth with the lightest of nibbles.

"And you wanted kids," she whispered, once more drawing out his laugh, touching her forehead to his as the night air filled the room.

The next night, they went to dinner at the big house that Quarry had built. Six adult ponies sat there, each enjoying the company of the others and the bounty that the summer had laid before them.

"Living here looks good on you, mom," said Carrot, placing a kiss upon his mother's cheek as they took their seats.

Ruby Quartz sighed. Cupcake followed her gaze to where three plates sat at empty chairs. Seeing her older sister so made Cupcake realize that she was wistfully recalling the days when her children did not have the hectic responsibilities and social calendars that adolescence seems to drag along in its wake.

Seeking to break the somber tone that her sister's sigh had settled along the table, Cupcake broached the topic of what had happened with Pinkie.

Inside seconds the three older mares at the table had all begun leveling motherly advice upon them.

"It's her nerves, Cupcake, from being in a new place…"

"Let her work up to her mark, let her explore it."

"This happens all the time. You'd know that if you had kids of your…"

All of the faces in the room turned to Ruby Quartz, saw the mare already laying her hoof across her mouth. Inside a second she was out of her seat and to her sister and brother-in-law, laying her head to each of them.

"I'm so sorry! I-I didn't mean it that way! I meant that you would have learned about how to deal with it if, I mean when, or if you… oh, I'm an idiot, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, sis," she said, nuzzling to her sister.

"Oh, it's okay… I understand, don't worry about it so," Cupcake said as she answered the nuzzle with one of her own.

Quiet returned to the table. The meal progressed, and soon a rumbling voice returned to the topic that had sat unanswered across the serving dishes and baskets of rolls.

"Though," said Quarry, "Clyde did say that she'd been havin' trouble before… that he was worried that bein' on the farm had stifled her. He was even afraid that he was killin' her, what with her not coming in off the farm all that often. She may just need some focus, somethin' to latch onto to grow from…"

Carrot and Cupcake pondered the words of the big stallion as they poured drinks for one another, sat there taking small sips as the conversation rolled across the table.

"Why, the same thing happened to me when we first opened our dance studio," said Cheesecake, "didn't it Wishy?"

"Oh yes," replied Wishing Well, "for the first two days I had to lead you around, help you regain your confidence… you'd freeze up!"

"Oh, if I could only give her some of my confidence now!" said Cheesecake. "Too bad dancing isn't her mark. She hasn't said anything about it, has she? Or singing?"

The air above Carrot and Cupcake filled with a purple haze as the two simultaneously spat up their drinks and then stared to Carrot's mother.

For those who only knew Pinkie Pie before the lessons, to see her afterwards was as though witnessing a torrent of water which had been released from a dam.

For those who only knew Pinkie Pie before Cheesecake had begun coming around to Sugar Cube Corner and helping her find her voice, give rise to her feelings through her song, meeting her was like meeting a new pony… one made of energy.

For those who knew the Pinkie Pie of before the lessons that Cheesecake gave, the lessons that allowed her to finally break free of her small internal restraints, it was as though they were finally allowed to meet the mare for the first time. It was as though she was now truly free.

She had danced before, or something like it on the farm, but never as openly and with as much joy.

She had sung before, or tried to, but nothing like she did now. Now her voice was clarion and clear, and it filled the upstairs room with its sound as the lessons freed her.

As the lesson had come to an end, Carrot and Cupcake had climbed the stairs, stood in the doorway listening as Cheesecake led Pinkie in another song. As the pink mare twirled and bounced through the hazy summer sun that entered the room, they beamed at her proudly… as though looking upon...

They could only clap, pound their hooves to the wooden boards, and smile back at her as she bounded over to them.

Together the four descended the stairs and then sat around the parlor behind the kitchen, drinking iced juices to fend off the heat as the warm day crossed in through the screens that sat in the windows.

"I-I'm very proud of you, Pinkie Pie," said Cheesecake, looking up to her student as the young mare collected their used cups, "you-you've made so much progress! Are you happy, dear? Do you feel like… as though it has helped?"

"Right a Rooney it has helped!" she said while balancing the cups upon her nose, turning around before them in an effortless display of her energy and skill.

Pinkie Pie stopped and looked back over the three other ponies in the room before her happy expression once more settled on Cheesecake.

"You know, it was really, really, really nice of you to do that because nopony else had ever helped me to sing and dance before except for my Granny Pie, and on the farm we never danced before I got my mark and we didn't sing that much even after I got it but my Granny Pie tried to teach me."

The assembly waited as Pinkie stopped to breathe.

"You remind me of my Granny Pie," Pinkie concluded, placing extra emphasis on the last few words.

With that she leaned back to Cheesecake, nuzzled her and gave a small laugh.

"Yup, you do," she said in something of a singsong tone, gathering up the cups once more and disappearing out of the room in a single bound, "she was beautiful too!"

The statement hovered in the air for a few moments as the sound of Pinkie Pie washing dishes and singing with her newfound voice rang out from the kitchen.

Carrot and Cupcake looked to the older mare, saw Cheesecake still staring out to where the young pony had leapt.

"Mom?" asked Carrot as he stood and crossed to where she lay. She looked up to him with a sort of serene happiness across her face, a few big wet tears lingering there as her son touched his forehead to hers.

Strings of causality, the very fabric of fate, had wound themselves very tightly to Carrot Cake and Cupcake. In truth, they could not know how tightly. That evening the strings moved very visibly, binding them even closer to one another.

He had been reading, but he found himself thirsty for something more than tap water, and he made his way downstairs. To his surprise she was not in the parlor working upon some small crafts as he had left her. Carrot entered the little den that served as an office for the bakery, and there he saw his wife writing, her head down across the page as she worked the pencil with her mouth.

"Whatcha writing, Sugar Plum?" he asked as he tried to peek over her shoulder.

She startled suddenly, gave a yelp and tried to cover what she had been writing with both of her hooves as she seemed to lift into the air in alarm.

"Oh, nothing!" she answered unconvincingly.

"Really?" he said, trying to glance around her, she only drawing the paper closer to herself.

With that he arched an eyebrow. A thought passed through him, and he did his best to copy her cunning little smile.

"You wouldn't dare!" she answered, a recognition going through her face as he stood over her and pressed her tail gently to the pillow, pinning her in place.

"You gonna tell me what it is, Honey Bun?" he said with a malicious grin.

She wrapped the paper to her chest, looked up at him with a smirk wrapped inside a pout.

"Okay then…" he said with a toss of his mane.

Cupcake's ticklish spots were as well known to Carrot as his own name. As she laughed and squealed, he found them one by one.

His hooves danced along her ribs, along her neck, and up and down her legs.

When her head tossed to one side, he was soon to the other. When she brought up her forelegs to shield herself, his hoof went to the space beneath them.

For Carrot it became like concert, he the conductor of a symphony that filled the little room with her laughter. As he sped his hoof along her, the sound of her voice ringing out with giggles entertained the stacks of paper, the notebooks, and the cup full of pencils and quills.

The paper had long since fallen away from her chest, yet he did not reach for it. If she wanted to tell him, she would, and he knew she no longer had any secrets from him… that if she was not telling him then there was a good reason.

When it was important for him to know, she would tell him. He trusted his wife, just as she trusted him.

Besides, he was otherwise occupied with the squealing, giggling, laughing, and squirming form of a beautiful blue mare pinned beneath him. Whatever a single piece of paper spoke of could hardly compete with that for his attention.

Or so he thought.

"Oh, Carrot! Carrot, stop! Stop!" she called as she tried to catch her breath. With that his assault ended. He parted his hooves and stopped pressing her tail against the pillows, allowed her to move again even as he still stood over her.

Cupcake folded her forelegs down to her chest and then looked up to him with her rosy eyes as she gave a few more satisfied giggles.

Her expression became slightly more serious as she rolled to her side and gathered up the paper.

He looked it over with her.

It was a legal document of some kind, each space filled out with her perfect little writing, the one that was oddly the same whether hoof or mouth written.

"I-I had wanted it to be a surprise…" she said, her voice slightly trembling.

"I'm sorry," he said after hearing her voice catch, "I'm sorry, Honey Bun, I was just…"

"No," she said, running her hoof across his foreleg. "It's okay, I've just been thinking about how this would change things, and I wanted to be sure about it."

He looked down across her once more; saw reflection deep in those eyes.

"I-I've been wondering about this. Thinking about it quite a bit. A lot of couples do it, and when Pinkie mentioned it all those weeks ago it kinda jumped up at me, you know…" she said, laying the paper flat.

Carrot looked over the sheet again, scanned it for meaning. Right across the top stood a rather officious looking title, one that was so banal for the heavy meaning it carried.

"Form 47B: Legal Request for Official Change of Name"

He looked down to her again and saw a dawning sentiment growing over her, one that made him very happy.

"A lot of married couples are doing this now, you see," she began, turning back to him, "and ours is really easy to do… I'd just become Cup Cake, two words, instead of Cupcake, one. That way we'd be…"

"… the Cakes," he answered, his own expression growing soft as he ran his hoof across her shoulder.

"Do you… do you think it's a good idea?" she asked as she looked up to him questioningly, "I mean, it's not that big of a change, you know, and I think it's sweet…"

"Sweety," he said, "a treat by any other name…"

With that he lowered his head to her, touched his lips across her neck…

"Ginger Snap…"

… across her cheek…

"Sugar Plum…"

… upon her lips…

"Honey Bun," he concluded while staring down over her, "… would taste just as sweet."

She smiled back up at him and took the pencil in her mouth. With that Cupcake signed her new name and laid the pencil down…

… and Cup Cake raised her head once more to meet her husband's offered nose.

"I love you, Mr. Cake," she said as they made the soft motions across one another.

"I love you, Mrs. Cake," he said as his touch flew through her and back to him.

As they parted from the touch of the other, he realized that he was still standing over her, still stood in the position of the victor in the engaging battle that had only ended a few minutes before.

He looked back down over her and saw her realize the same thing.

"Oh?" she said, smiling up to him, "were we in the middle of something?"

"Don't forget to nibble behind her ears," came the voice of Pinkie Pie, bouncing by the wide open door of the den to fetch a drink from the kitchen. "That's where I always used to get her real good when she would baby-sit us!"

"Ohhhhh, is that a fact?" he said as Pinkie politely closed the den door. Pinkie only smiled to herself as she saw a look of pleasant surprise go across Cup Cake's face as this long forgotten secret had been revealed, one that was soon to be explored in earnest.

Strings of causality… they are the very fabric of fate. They stretch and twist, snarl and get caught and snagged.

They also lie beside one another, are woven and knit. One can only tie, many though bind, and hundreds clothe.

The story of the journey that the Cakes had been on was more than just a story of their own romance. It was a story of how their love had drawn these strings around them… how they had tied others to them and how ponies around them had all been draped in the fabric that they had knit.

Had Ivory Script not been bound to Cup Cake, then she would have never of had anyone to help her plan "The Game of This," and Ivory would have grown up without anypony to confide in… may not of had anyone she trusted enough to gain her confidence that won her the office of mayor.

Of course without Ivory there would have been no meeting at all… she was the one who pulled Carrot and Cup Cake together, pulled willfully on the strings.

If Ivory's father Ledger had not employed Carrot, they never would have seen each other in the first place, and if Ivory had not told him of his part in "The Game of This," he may have told Quarry about their relationship. Then it would never have begun, never have been allowed to prosper and bloom.

Strings… the strings that were once limp went taut as Cheesecake and Wishing Well reunited through the love of their children, as their friendship had been reborn.

If the strings had not pulled Clyde toward the door of the Hospitable Loan & Trust, there never would have been a place for Pinkie to grow. She would perhaps still be on that rock farm, her mark going to waste.

Love had made the strings. The love that the Cakes had let grow between them and that had covered all the ponies in their lives. Love had, unknowingly, conquered all.

If Carrot had not come into Quarry's life through his daughter, then he would still be filled with rage, owned by his wrath.

The strings had broken down his perceptions… made him leave his brutality behind. The strings that wrapped him to his erstwhile "son" had more than just freed him of his anger. They had freed his soul and given him these last few years of happy reflection upon those he loved.

Yet, there was a price to pay for living as he had, living wrapped in rage and fury. A physical body can only take so much.

He had never been able to let go fully, but he had mastered it, learned to control it. The strings had pulled it out of his life, but now they were letting him know that consequences were in place and that his decades of wrath were coming to claim him.

The strings made themselves known as a feeling deep behind his right eye, one that he could sense as the late summer sky fell over them.

He stood from the porch. He tried to yawn but had to catch himself as he wobbled. With that he wheeled Wishing Well into the den they had converted into a downstairs bedroom. She was going through a frail phase again, and his own age and stiffness meant that he trusted himself less and less to use the lift, the stairs no longer even being a possibility.

As Cheesecake prepared Wishing Well for bed, he stood in the bedroom, felt himself wavering on his legs. He called upon his own earth pony magic to anchor him. As it moved through him, he felt it catch behind his right eye, felt the blood moving there incorrectly as his own magic called back to him that something was wrong.

He was so tired.

Cheesecake helped Wishing Well into the bed, and she said her goodnights. To her surprise she felt Quarry's hoof on her foreleg.

"I-I can't tell ya' how much it means to me… that you're here, taking care of my Darling. It means a lot to me, Cheesecake… thank you," he said, forcing his trademark rumble into his voice to hide the growing weakness.

To his surprise she offered him an embrace, one that they shared before he showed her to the door.

"Oh, are you making googly eyes at my best friend, Love?" chided Wishing Well in a playful tone.

His reply was almost tearful.

"Please don't even joke like that. I've only ever had one Darling," he said as he gently turned her so that she lay upon the bed with her face to him, "only ever loved you, Wish. You've only ever been my Love."

"Oh, Quarry... " Wishing Well spoke with concern high in her voice, feeling a strong emotion hanging over the bed that she could not place. She looked upon her grey-maned husband, the pony seeming so pale in the moonlight.

"I'm sorry, Love," she apologized as she reached for him, "I was only joking. You know I don't think that…"

Quarry leaned forward and kissed his wife. As they lay in the gaze of the other, he wrapped his hooves around hers. Together they spoke about their lives for a little while, the happy and the sad. As they did, he waited for her to fall asleep. He fought to stay awake, fought the wavering sense of withdrawal that was falling through him.

As they lay there in their bed with their hooves upon one another, he whispered, "I love you, Wish… I love you, Darlin'," and with that she became the last thing he saw as he closed his eyes.

About two hours later, Quarry realized he no longer had any need for his body, so he left it lying there upon the bed.

He looked across the deflated form. There he saw all of the old scars and the grey mane that had once been black, the mark of a ladder reaching out of black pit of stone.

"Meh," he said, leaving his aches, pains, and remorse there in a heap of flesh.

He let his kiss waft across Wishing Well one last time and then moved out across his home. He moved down the path and past the gate as the world sat in a perfect light that flowed from neither sun nor moon. He did not walk, did not have a body to move, and instead it was as though he saw himself as he had always wished to be.

As he went, all of the hate, fear, anger, wrath, and feelings of doubt fell from him. They dropped from him as though they were plates of armor that clanged as they fell to the earth and dissipated in clouds of magica vasto.

He was running. He felt himself young again, felt as he had not felt since he was the twelve-year-old colt who had not yet been robbed, had not yet felt hunted.

Above him the stars shone brighter than any he had ever seen, and he was aware of them… felt them.

At once he was aware of many things, of his sons in their homes in Manehattan and in the officer tent, of his daughters lying close to those they loved. He was aware of his granddaughters too: one asleep in her bed, the other sleeping across her books… of his grandson trying to sneak back home long after his curfew.

He laughed, laughed long and loud as he ran, not tiring in the least. "Later!" he called, his grandson seeming to catch the word as a whisper on the breeze.

At once his black mane was flying around him, caught in the winds that rose from a shaft of shimmering light.

He flew to it, and as he came closer, a figure stood there, one that was vast, powerful, and angelic.

As he looked upon the face, he realized it was a pony, one that he had last seen nearly four decades earlier, one that he had held close to his chest as the short life had come to an end.

He nuzzled his son, and with that his boy led him down the Long Stairs, well-being and a sense of completeness washing over him as he went down the steps.

There was a great vast pool, and with his son, he went pelting across the short beach and down into the waters.

As the warm waters washed over him, he felt the presence of many ponies, his own parents, his brother who had been killed in The Wars… these and so many others met him as his soul became as water, as love itself was liquid, and he floated through it and was made of it.

Being Quarry means finally being free to let all of your intentions fall away.

Being Quarry means there is finally nothing that consumes you, only rest.

Being Quarry means entering the Well of Souls and finally finding peace.