“How many times do we have to have the same discussion? It’s simply not suitable,” Petunia Trotter declared firmly, as she glared at her daughter across the generously laden breakfast table. Sitting at its head, her husband lowered the newspaper he had been reading. His eyes, bluer than the shell of a robin’s egg, glanced from mother to daughter and back, and his walrus mustache twitched as he puffed out a quiet breath, but wisely, he offered no comment.
Foxglove Mareia Trotter tried to keep the frustration out of her voice and be polite to her mother as she replied, “You call this a discussion?” Whoops. Maybe she wasn’t trying all that hard, after all. Her mother’s expression darkened.
“Don’t you take that tone with me, young lady. I’m your mother, and I won’t be spoken to that way.”
Foxglove slumped back on her stool. She should have known it would be useless. Impatiently, she took a bite of her scone and chewed hard, barely tasting it, as she mulled over another way to approach the issue. No bright idea suggested itself. After a while, presumably believing the matter settled, her father hid behind his newspaper again. After a moment, he harrumphed over something he was reading in there.
“Something interesting in the paper today?” Foxglove asked him, trying to keep her voice casual. Her mother glanced at the title of the newspaper, The Canterlot Chronicle, and sighed in annoyance. There was a long pause. Her mother had returned to eating the bread with butter and syrup that she favoured for her morning meal by the time a response was forthcoming.
“Just reading about the Summer Sun celebration coming up soon,” her father rumbled in his deep voice, “Being held in Ponyville this year, it says. Rather a backwater town to hold the Thousandth Year celebration in, I must say.”
Foxglove held her breath as he continued sedately, “Seems they’re sending someone down there to cover the event. Some new hotshot journalist called Foxy Flash.”
“Such a name! A pony with a name like that is clearly no better than she should be,” her mother opined. At that comment, Foxglove found herself struggling to keep a grin off of her face. She stifled the nearly irresistible urge to smile by taking a long pull at her now-cool tea.
“Slow down, dear,” her mother said absently, as she sipped delicately from her own cup, which was floating in the air in front of her, “You don’t have to drink it all in one gulp.”
“Of course, Mother, sorry. Father, may I be excused from the table?”
Her father nodded in his usual amiable fashion, and Foxglove slipped gratefully off her stool and made her way out of the dining room, as one of the family retainers unobtrusively cleared away her dinnerware.
***
Leaving her well-to-do family home, paid for with the profits of her father’s business, she made her way at a crisp pace down the lane that led towards the Palace gardens. It was a glorious summer morning, the dome of the sky shining so brightly and blue above the spires and towers of Canterlot that she felt as if she could reach out and touch it. As she walked, she passed various ponies, mostly unicorns who were also out enjoying the gorgeous new day. She nodded politely and murmured a greeting to a few of them as she went.
“Fox!” somepony called from above her. Foxglove stopped and looked up to see a young and athletic-looking pegasus stallion descending towards her at a rapid but somehow unhurried pace. As he alighted, she gave him a big grin and put out a hoof for him to bump.
“Heya, Slipstream. How long have you been waiting out here?”
“Too long, Fox,” he said, falling into step beside her as she started walking again. “I thought you’d never finish breakfast. Not all of us can afford a three course feast for every meal, you know.” She smiled good-naturedly at the gentle teasing tone in his voice.
“And your family is just sooo much poorer,” she responded, matching his tone, “Why didn’t you spend some of that time working out in your private home gym? You’re beginning to look a little skinny there, champ.”
Actually, he’s looking better than ever, her mind added, unbidden.
Slipstream puffed a breath out of the corner of his mouth to blow a curling lock of his dark blue mane out of his eye, an affectation of his that was familiar to her. It fell back immediately, as it always did.
“Oh, you’ll pay for that one, Fox,” he mock-threatened her.
“What, having to spend time with you isn’t punishment enough?”
As they continued their playful banter, they moved steadily closer to the Palace gardens, and the number of passersby lessened until they were virtually alone. After glancing around to make sure that nopony was paying them any particular attention, Foxglove grabbed Slipstream, pulled him into a sidestreet, and faced him, their snouts virtually touching.
“How is the planning going?” she whispered urgently.
“Good,” he responded, equally quietly, “As far as anyone else is concerned, you’ll be joining me and my family to visit Rainbow Falls for a week. All you have to do is play sick and spend a few days indoors. It shouldn’t be any problem for you to sneak away. I’ll do my best to cover for you. A day’s journey to Ponyville, a day back, and nopony will be any the wiser.”
“Right…” She nodded firmly. Then her determined expression softened and she sighed. “I do wish this wasn’t necessary. But Mother insists that upper class young ladies like me shouldn’t spend time in a place like Ponyville… ‘they’re just not our kind of pony’, she says.”
“Makes me wonder why she doesn’t mind you spending time with me,” he mused. She waved a dismissive hoof at the comment.
“Oh, no, Mother doesn’t worry about that sort of thing. It’s strictly a matter of class and breeding with her.”
“Still, I guess she’d prefer to marry you off to the heir of some other prominent unicorn family, huh?”
“Not if I have anything to say about it!” Foxglove turned away from him and began to walk back towards the busier roads. She glanced back at him over one shoulder as she spoke. “Once I’m famous all over Equestria, I might consider settling down. Besides, if Mother wants grandfoals, all she has to do is wait a bit. Won’t be long before Marigold has a few, I shouldn’t wonder.”
“Right… Grandfoals, huh,” Slipstream said thoughtfully, then shook his head and hurried to catch up with Foxglove.
As they walked on, this time in companionable silence, Foxglove felt as if she could hardly keep a lid on her simmering emotions. Her guilt at having to lie to her parents was warring with the excitement at the prospect of another scoop to write, and excitement definitely had the advantage. For unknown to anypony but her and a few selected cohorts – Slipstream being the principle co-conspirator, naturally – she had a secret that she had been keeping for most of a year. Although her given name was Foxglove Marea Trotter, she had been submitting articles to the Chronicle on the sly, published under her chosen non de plume: Foxy Flash.
