Chapters Princess Pile Drinking Games
Double Take, Changeling for Hire pt 1
A lot of my stories involve OC's, and I sometimes feel that means I don't get enough time with the Mane 6. To try to remedy that, I had an idea for a story called Changeling for Hire. It was about a changeling named Double Take who moves to Ponyville and sells his shapeshifting talents for fun and profit. The fic was supposed to be a series of scenes spread out over time where we see Double Take interact with the Mane 6 in ways that reveal a lot about them they wouldn't otherwise show.
The problem with this fic was Double Take. I liked him, but he felt way too much like Siren SongTick TockMirror!Twilight some other characters I write, and the whole thing started to feel really derivative. Maybe I'll fix it someday, but if I do, it'll involve nearly a total rewrite. So for now, enjoy!
My name is Double Take, and I am a changeling scout. Now, “scout” means something different for changelings than it does for ponies. It’s a little closer to “spy,” but that’s not quite right either. Pony spies are still usually part of some big organization that tells them what to do. Changeling scouts—we’re independent. We drift around and have a lot of freedom in how we gather information. Some of us sneak, some of us infiltrate or scheme or stuff, but some of us just settle down and report what happens. After all, that information’s useful too.
That’s me, by the way. I can sneak, and I can scheme, but it always seemed so unnecessary. Deep down, ponies are social creatures. They’re herd animals. They want to open up. They want to trust. I once got into the Equestrian Royal Mint by just by saying I always really wanted to see how coins were made. I spent the next two hours snapping pictures of all the entryways and weak points while a guard talked to me about how terrible it was that there were so many cutbacks in combat training for Canterlot’s guards. I’m still proud of that one, even if the invasion didn’t exactly go well.
But, the invasion didn’t go well, and that means we scouts suddenly had a hard time of it. Everypony turned suspicious, and spells to detect shapeshifters were suddenly in vogue. A lot of my wingmates turned to refuge in obscurity—turn into somepony unimportant who's just sort of always around, and never draw attention to yourself. It’s a good strategy. Me, though? I decided to take another bet on ponies’ good nature. I wrote in anonymously to a guard captain I knew was a big softie, and told him I was a changeling still in Equestria, and that I’d like to appear before the Princess and seek forgiveness. He routed it up, and next thing I knew, I was in the palace.
I’m not going to say it wasn’t a risk. A changeling ruler who heard about a spy like that would freely accept the offer—and then have them hauled off to the rack as soon as they were dumb enough to appear in person. And I’ll admit, when I first stepped in front of Celestia, I smelled like a very particular emotion, and it wasn’t war pheromones. But it was a calculated move. There are things you can’t learn if you’re afraid of getting caught. There are advantages to being out in the open. And anything I could do to make ponies get over the changeling scare faster would make life easier on my fellow scouts.
So I took the bet, and it paid off. Celestia asked me a lot of questions, but she did it without the rack, and when it was over, I was free to go. She said that she didn’t quite trust me, but that she wasn’t going to condemn me just for my race. So she decided to send me to Ponyville, where her student could look after me, and decide if I was trustworthy.
That was a few months ago. Twilight and her little band are quite vigilant, I’ll give them that. They were always watching me, waiting to catch me in the act of kicking a puppy or some other vile deed. But I’m a patient sort, and after awhile, they got used to me. I got used to the town too. It’s a very convenient place to learn a lot that Queen Chrysalis might want to know, including the whereabouts of the Elements of Harmony.
I even found a way to make all that information come to me, and I didn’t need informants or hired goons or any of the things other scouts sometimes mess with. I just needed the ponies of Ponyville to get used to having me around, and one little wooden sign.
Double Take
Professional Shapeshifter
Impressions
Theater
Roleplaying Events
Private sessions available on request.
And let me tell you, the things I learned about ponies with that little sign.
Princess Pile Drinking Games
Double Take, Changeling for Hire pt 2
There’s a crowd watching as I levitate up the sign and nail it to the spot behind the door. It’s not a large crowd, maybe ten ponies, but word will get around quickly. That’s intentional. I’m in my natural form—wings and chiten and frill and all—which is always an attention getter. Ponies may have accepted that I exist, but that doesn't mean they’re used to seeing a giant bug walking around town. I could have done this in any number of other shapes that the ponies around town know are me, but right now, I want the attention. I can’t have a business without customers after all.
The sign is nice: wooden, gold lettering, very respectable. I managed to swing a little storefront in the middle of Ponyville, sharing a building with the town farrier. His sign is on the other side of the door. I could have gotten my own building further out if I really wanted, but this is better twice over. This way, it’s easy for ponies to discreetly stop by. Everypony needs their hooves cared for, after all.
It takes five good whacks of the hammer to drive in the first nail, and another three for the second. I turn back to look at the crowd, but nopony seems ready to approach. There’s not much I can say to them right now that will help, but going inside without acknowledging them would be anti-social, so I give the crowd a quick scan. No, no, no, no, no... ah. Yes. Apple Bloom and her tagalongs are in the crowd, only half paying attention. Looks like they herded up because they saw a crowd forming, but are paying more attention to each other than me. Perfect.
I wait until they’re good and distracted, then raise a hoof to my face to signal silence. The vents under my wings slide open, and in a flash of green light, I’ve transformed into Cherilee—the foals teacher. I make a big, dramatic show of tiphoofing up to them, and a few ponies in the crowd giggle, silently cheering me on until I’m right on top of the three.
“Apple Bloom!” I snap, in a properly cross voice. All three of them spaz out at once, whirling around to face me. Dang, what were her friends’ names? The unicorn and the runt. No matter. “All three of you. Precisely what are you doing out of school at this hour?”
“Ms. Cheerilee!” the unicorn squeaks, her voice actually cracking in fright. “We uh... we were about to get some icecream in town and—”
“Wait a second,” Apple Bloom says, suddenly. “It’s Saturday .”
“Of course it’s Saturday,” I reply, without breaking cadence, “When else would we hold Cutie Mark class? You know you have your regular lessons during the week.”
“Cutie mark... class?” the runt asks, perking up her ears as she sinks into thought. “I’ve never heard of that.”
“You’ve never heard of that?” I ask, with just the right mix of concern and disbelief. “Didn’t your parents sign the permission slip? How else do they expect you to get your cutie marks?”
“They said it would just happen on its own!” Sweetie Belle squeaks, now with mounting worry. It’s easy for me to play into it, pausing and shifting my expression down and giving a little tsk of concern. “Oh no. We could be missing how to get our cutie marks right now!”
“It’s okay girls, there’s still time,” I say, leaning in and adding a little kick of enthusiasm, more for the crowd than for them. “Run home and tell your family you want to go to school every Saturday! Hurry!”
“Right!” the runt says, pointing back towards the path out of town. “Come on girls! If we hurry, we can still... wait a second.”
By now, the giggling of the crowd has become more noticeable, and the three girls are starting to clue in that there’s something they’re missing. They haven’t quite figured it out yet, but they can see all the other ponies pointing and smirking, and some instinctive part of their brain is warning them all is not right. I think I could turn it around but, whatever, mission accomplished, so I grin and giggle along with the rest of them in what I’m pretty sure is a very un-Cherilee like way.
“Wait, but that...” Apple Bloom says, still in a daze. Then she spots the sign and puts it all together, and her confused stare turns into an irritated grimace. “Very funny, Double.”
“Aww, I’m sorry, Apple Bloom,” I say, tilting my head and folding back my ears a bit. “I was just trying to poke a little fun. I didn’t mean to upset you. Here.” In a flash of green, I transform back into my regular self, and once I have the use of my horn again, call over the bag I left over by the door. It still has my hammer inside, but it also has a collection of what I think of as props. Little things that come in handy during a disguise. In this case, my prop of choice is a trio of wooden nickels, each redeemable for one ice cream float down at the malt shop.
“You said you were getting ice cream, right?” I ask, the sound emerging from my buzzing wings. “Go have fun.”
“Yeah,” Apple Bloom says, all three of them giving me a wary look. After a moment she adds, “Thanks,” taking the nickels in her teeth and heading off. I give them a wave as they head off, and nod to the crowd, but my social obligations are fulfilled, so I don’t waste any more time before heading inside. There’s a little hallway beyond the entrance, with two doors on either side. Iron Shod on the left, and Double Take on the right.
There’s not much to this space I’ve rented. Just a little office with a desk, a couch, and a back room. I think I might put a bed back there, but not just yet. The whole space is still pretty dusty, so I drop my bags and hammer in the corner, and pick up the broom. I could have done all this before, but I doubt I’ll get any customers in the first day or two.
That’s how I spend the rest of the afternoon—dusting, cleaning, and trying to ignore the empty feeling in my midgut. I spent all morning being a sensitive coltfriend to Bottlecap while she yammered on about her dreams of opening Equestria’s first trivial junk museum, so I haven't been going hungry all day. But, there’s only so much love a changeling can take from one pony before they start to turn noticeably sick, and it’s something less than what I need to live. If I was still undercover, I’d just turn into somepony who was out of town and give their spouse a wonderful evening, but no way am I getting away with that now. Twilight and Co watch me way too closely for that.
Speak of the pony.
I know it’s Twilight before the door even opens—the pitter-patter of her little assistant gives her away. Dragons and changelings actually get along pretty well in general, but Twilight doesn’t let me near him. Apparently she’s worried I’m a corruptive influence, go figure. I hear her telling him to wait outside, and then the little bell above the door goes ding-a-ling-a-ling as she pushes it open.
“Good morning, Twilight,” I buzz, not interrupting my sweeping. She’s a workaholic, so she respects working creatures more. It’s an empathy thing. “Good to see you again.”
“Well, I can’t really say the same,” she replies, letting out a snort and trying to sound angry. She can’t manage it though, not really. Ponies are just too nice to get really good and angry. “Why didn’t you let me know about this in advance?” Oh, sure, she’s annoyed with me—very annoyed even—but I’m not really afraid of her, even though she could send me to the moon with one word to the Princess.
“I wasn’t aware I needed too,” I say, pausing to put the broom away. I do give her my full attention, just to be polite, but I look at her chest and not at her face. She finds changeling eyes unsettling. “It’s not that much of a change. I only moved up the street. I’m sorry if it’s caused you any distress.”
“No you’re not,” she snaps. I don’t respond though. That was a flash of anger, and ponies don’t take well to that, particularly Twilight Sparkle. I just stand there in silence, and let her stew, until finally she lets out a hiss of breath through her teeth. “Sorry.”
“It’s quite alright,” I say. “But, is there a problem? I really didn’t think it was much of a change. I already do impressions, volunteer at the theater, and I made a very menacing Nightmare Moon if I’m not being too humble.”
“And ‘Private Sessions’?” Twilight demands.
“On request,” I reply, evenly. It’s tempting to try to ward off the accusation, but the key here? She hasn’t actually accused me of anything yet. It’s an old trick—make slightly menacing statements and wait for the other changeling to tell you what the did. Oh, sure, in theory she doesn’t need to accuse me of anything—she could banish me just because she doesn’t like me. But, she won’t. It’s not in her character.
“And what does a private session consist of, exactly?” Twilight asks. Well, it’s still in development, but basically, I’m hoping to get paid by the hour to manipulate ponies emotions and suck out their love. That’s pretty much my dream job right there. Oh, and if they could spill critical military secrets in the process, that’d be peachy. Of course, I don’t say that.
“It consists of whatever you want it to consist of,” I answer. “Maybe there’s somepony famous you always wanted to meet. Maybe there’s somepony who intimidates you, and you’d like to spend more time around them until you feel comfortable. Maybe there’s somepony who won’t give you the time of day but you always wanted to relax with them.” Or bend them over the couch. “That sort of thing.”
“But they won’t actually be meeting that pony,” she insists. “It’s not real . It’s just a fantasy.”
“And is there something wrong with fantasy?” I ask. These word games between us can last a goodly while, but I’m not seriously worried about the outcome. I was when I first moved to Ponyville, sure, but if Twilight was going to banish me on baseless suspicion, she’d have done it by now. I think she even likes these little verbal sparring matches.
This chapter was never finished. I decided I should get an idea of what a typical private session looked like first, and when I actually wrote it, Double Take started to feel really similar to some of my other characters. The private session is up as Pt 3.
Princess Pile Drinking Games
Double Take, Changeling for Hire pt 3
Ding-a-ling-a-ling goes the bell above the door as it swings open, and a mint green unicorn bounds in. I’m sitting at my desk, working on what looks like a crossword puzzle if you don’t look too closely. It’s actually an encoding system for turning short messages into reasonable sounding Letters to the Editor. I have to make my reports somehow after all, and I’m sure Twilight and Co. are reading all my mail. It’s a tricky cipher, but so far I’ve managed to turn, “Mission proceeding, delivering logs to second drop point Tuesday evening,” into a concerned letter about why the town hasn’t gotten rid of the hydra in Froggy Bottom Bog.
“Hello, Lyra,” I buzz, sliding the crossword back into the loose bundle of papers on my desk I keep for just such an occasion. I don’t know Lyra particularly well, but I’ve seen her around town and I make a point of knowing everypony’s business. I’m in my natural form, but that bothers ponies less than it used to. I’ve even had a few say my frill is cute. “What brings you this way?”
“Hey, Double,” she says a bit too forcefully, stepping in quickly and shutting the door behind her. Her face is drawn back in a line, ears up and alert. “How much for a private session?”
That makes my thorax itch. I do private sessions, of course—fulfilling ponies’ secret desires is a great way to build loyal contacts—but it’s something that ponies build up to. They walk in, talk about the weather, ask if I could explain just what “private session” means, ask if requests are completely confidential, all that. They don’t just burst in and ask about the hourly rate. Somepony who does that is also going to blab about what happens next, and that’s not a reputation I need.
But saying any of that will offend her, so I just buzz my wings a bit. “One hundred bits an hour,” I say, curious if the sky-high rate will drive her off.
“Great!” she replies, still too forceful. Rats. She reaches down into her saddlebags and pulls out a bag of bits, tossing it down onto my desk without bothering to count it. A moment later, a picture frame follows it, showing a tan earth pony with a blue and pink mane. “You know Bon Bon, right? Turn into her.”
I do know Bon Bon. I also know that these two are—or perhaps were—in a relationship, making this a complicated request. I pretend to study the picture to buy some time. I could say no, but that’s its own bag of tricks. If I get judgemental about requests, suddenly ponies see me as a source of judgement, and next thing I know they’re embarrassed to admit that they’ve always really wanted to see Princess Luna clog dance or whatever. And in the short term, snubbing Lyra might result in her going around and badmouthing me behind my back.
So I look at her, and open the little vents on my thorax, and in a rush of green energy, I transform into Bon Bon, curly mane and bashful smile and all. Now, the initiative is mine. Lyra is so tense—body stiff, face drawn out. If I stand there and wait for her to give me directions, it will come across as a slap in the face. It’s immersion breaking—worse than if I’d just told her to leave. So, unbidden, I step forwards.
“Hey there, Sweetie,” I smile at her like I remember Bon Bon smiling at her before. It was awhile ago that I saw them, so I’m not sure I got it totally right, but ponies are surprisingly forgiving of little mistakes. One more step forward and we’re nose to nose, and then gently nuzzling. “I missed you today.”
Or, well. I’m nuzzling her. She’s not nuzzling back. She’s not really doing anything, except standing there in shock. She suddenly snaps out of it, first nuzzling too hard, and then trying to steal a kiss, but I giggle and stumble back before she can. “Lyyyra,” I whine playfully, like I was scandalized by how forward she was. I’m still blushing when I lean forward and give her a brief, gentle kiss on the lips, twitching my ears once and smiling as I pull away. “Come on,” I say. “Why don’t you take off those saddlebags and we’ll go lie down?”
Now, to be clear on this point, there’s not a changeling in the world that has a problem sleeping with ponies. We experience lust about the same way ponies experience potato chips. Not every changeling likes the taste of lust, don’t get me wrong—it’s not that sustaining anyway, compared to real love—but we’d never be traumatized or upset by it. We don’t have all these weird social mores built up around it. So if it comes to that, I am totally prepared to sleep with this mare and siphon a little energy off for my troubles.
But, experience tells me that might not be a good idea. First because she’s so emotional there’s no telling how she’ll react if I do. Second because I don’t know if she and Bon Bon have broken up, and if they haven’t, this could be a one way trip to payback town. But third... well. She hasn’t actually asked me to yet.
When I was new here, I made that mistake a lot. I assumed everypony understood that Private Session was a euphemism, wink-wink nudge-nudge and all that, but it’s amazing how many ponies showed up, put money on the table, and then just asked for a hug. Or told me to turn into somepony they’re crushing on, and then paid a hundred bits to spend an hour lightly flirting and talking about the weather.
So, no matter how much it seems like Lyra is looking for something specific, for now, all I do is guide her over to the couch, strip off her saddlebags, and snuggle up against her on the cushions. I add a little smile to round it off, and she gradually smiles back, which is good, but she still doesn’t say anything. Which leaves me at a bit of a loss—I mean, I’m a heck of a mimic, but she has to give me something to work with.
“Did you want to talk?” I ask playfully, giving a little wag of my ears the way Bon Bon does. I’ve got her voice down pretty well—she has a huge vocal range, so I doubt I could pass as her for an extended period, but in the short run this is fine. “I mean, if you want to just sit here and snuggle up, I’m not objecting ...”
“Yes, I mean, no! I mean...” Lyra stammers. “I thought I just gave you the money and... you know.” The smile has faded from her face, and the tightness has returned, forcing her to swallow before she can go on. “That.”
That. Wonderful. No hesitance there that could come back to bite me. “If that’s what you want,” I coo gently, flicking my tail against hers. “But that means different things to different ponies. Was there something specific you were hoping for?”
“I just wanted something uncomplicated, you know?” she answers. “You’re a shapeshifter. That’s really hot. You know?” I hate it when ponies try to tell me what they think I know. It usually means they won’t take it well if they’re wrong. “So something physical I guess.. And maybe a mare can be physically attracted to another mare without all this meaning getting attached to it? Maybe I just have the feelings I have and I don’t want it getting overblown!”
So that relationship is probably in the past-tense then. At first I don’t show any reaction while she rants, just letting her get it all out, but past a certain point, a poker face is a snub. It gives away that I don’t really care. So, I start to frown, letting the worry build until I even look a little upset.
“Lyra, I’d never judge you for how you feel,” I say, running a hoof along her back. “But I do want you to feel... well. Happy. I want you to enjoy our time together.” I pull my head and neck up against her, nuzzling into her side. “So if uncomplicated is what makes you happy, I can be the simplest mare in the world.”
That soothes her a bit, and I follow it up with a hiss of breath. Something she’ll feel more than hear. “But you are really stiff. How about we get you started with a back rub? Work some of that tension out.” And stall for time while I think of how to play this.
This is as far as I got. By this point, I was feeling really unhappy with Double Take's voice. It sounds way too much like my other characters.
Princess Pile Drinking Games
The Fairest in All the Land
Based on the premise "What if Shining Armor and Queen Chrysalis had a child?", this fic was supposed to be a series of fairy tale style interludes, spacing out chapters describing Shining and his daughter meeting in person. The fairy tale was a severe case of unreliable narrator, while the fic itself was going to be about a scared teenager running away from an abusive home in the hope that her father will love her.
I wrote the fairy tale interludes, but the fic itself didn't work nearly as well. Nothing was wrong with the premise, I just dropped the ball. The interludes are nice though. The "sword and shield" it refers to is the Crystal Heart, which the young princess ended up incidentally stealing for the changelings. This fic was definitely going to be tragedy.
Part 1:
Once upon a time, there lived a wicked queen, known throughout all the land for her cruelty. Such was her greed and fury that she made war upon all of her neighbors, until at last only one remained, guarded by an invincible warrior.
Knowing she could never overcome the warrior by force of arms, the wicked queen seduced him, and sought to turn him against his people. But his heart proved true, and she was vanquished, fleeing his lands with the shattered remains of her host.
In the year that followed, it came to be known that the wicked queen was with child, and she gave birth to an heir. The daughter she bore the invincible warrior was known as Princess Amaryllis, and though the wicked queen had many children, all who saw her said that Amaryllis was the cleverest and the strongest of all of them.
The wicked queen did not love Amaryllis. At first, the wicked queen ignored the daughter the invincible warrior had given her, but as Amaryllis grew older, the wicked queen’s disdain turned to hatred.
In her daughter’s strength, the wicked queen saw the strength that had defeated her, and she hounded Amaryllis at all hours with impossible questions and demands. Nothing Amaryllis could do would please her, and while her other children were heaped with praise for the slightest of victories, Amaryllis could earn only scorn.
As she grew older, Amaryllis realized that her wicked mother was indeed wicked, and labor as she might, it was impossible to win her favor. Without hope, she despaired, until a loyal servant came upon her.
He was Mirror Match, the scout who was old and knowledgeable in the ways of the world. He told Amaryllis of the paths and passages beyond the wicked queen’s kingdom, and where she might find the invincible warrior who sired her.
Grateful to her loyal servant, Princess Amaryllis fled her wicked mother’s kingdom, and sought out her estranged father in his distant land.
Part 2:
With the directions given to her, Princess Amaryllis found the invincible warrior who sired her, and presented herself to him as his daughter. The invincible warrior’s name was Shining Armor, and though he was at first mistrustful, he was as wise and true as Amaryllis had known, and in time accepted her tale, and bid her enter his home.
In the years since his battle with the wicked queen, Shining Armor had married. His wife was known as Cadence, and she was a great ruler in a kingdom of crystal, much beloved by her people. She was fecund as well as wise, and had given Shining Armor many children.
Cadence did not welcome Amaryllis. Believing her to be as wicked as her mother, Cadence bid Shining Armor to cast her from their home. Shining Armor refused, and Cadence’s pleas could not sway his heart. Thus it was that Amaryllis again found herself surrounded by half-siblings and the ire of a powerful monarch.
Part 3:
Amaryllis was trouble greatly by Cadence’s ire, for she could see the pain it caused her father. She knew it to be right and just that a ruler should jealously guard her mate, but also knew Cadence to be wise and kind. Amaryllis did not believe a great ruler could harbor hatred in her heart, and so thought to win the favor of her own half-siblings, and Cadence through them.
Amaryllis spoke with her half-siblings at great length, and spent the night with them, but she could not win their favor. Cadence was indeed wise, and so had foreseen Amaryllis’s actions, and poisoned the minds of all around her with doubt and scorn.
Amaryllis was distressed, but knew that her father’s heart was true, and that Cadence could no more sway him than the wicked queen could years ago. Behind his invulnerable shield, she sought protection from Cadence’s slander, and begged of him to reason with his wife.
Part 4:
Despite Shining Armor’s best efforts, Cadence could not be reasoned with. As the wicked queen before her, Cadence could see only those things in Amaryllis she despised, and Amaryllis was again hounded with endless questions and impossible demands.
Shining Armor shielded Amaryllis from his wife’s anger, but Amaryllis could see that doing so caused her father great pain. This pained her in turn, and she wondered what she might do to calm the tempest about him.
Being clever, but not yet wise, she still believed that she might win Cadence’s favor, and thus free her father from his burden. She resolved to steal his sword and shield in the night, and present them to Cadence as gifts. Having thus disarmed the invincible warrior and left his kingdom at her mercy, she thought to prove her loyalty by taking no advantage, save to plead Cadence’s approval.
Part 5:
Amaryllis did steal away with her father’s sword and shield in the night, but upon entering Cadence’s chambers, was greeted with a mighty shriek. Seeing Amaryllis clad in her husband’s aegis, she thought him slain, and leapt into battle.
Amaryllis tried to plead reason, but Cadence’s own hateful poison clouded her mind, and she would not hear. Amaryllis was forced to defend herself, and her father’s sword and shield served her as well as they served him. Cadence was strong, but Amaryllis proved the stronger, and in the temper of the melee, she struck Cadence down.
Knowing that her father could not forgive what she had done, Amaryllis fled, and returned to the kingdom of the wicked queen. There she presented herself to her mother, and offered to her as a gift the sword and shield of the invincible warrior, still stained with Cadence’s blood.
For destroying her most hated enemies, Amaryllis won the wicked queen’s favor. From that day forth, Amaryllis was the wicked queen’s favored child, and was lauded for her deeds. Seeing the strength of arms in her daughter, the wicked queen permitted Amaryllis to carry Shining Armor’s sword and shield into battle. Armed thus, Amaryllis proved as invincible as her father. Thus were the wicked queen’s enemies destroyed, and their kingdoms brought to ruin.
In time, the wicked queen grew old and weak, and her reign ended. Princess Amaryllis thus became Queen Amaryllis, as strong as her mother had been dark. It became known throughout the land that her kingdom was championed by an invincible warrior, as her father’s had once been, and all nations were subservient to her.
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Princess Pile Drinking Games
Siren Song Side Stories: Swiftwing Has a Nice Day
This story has put me through no end of grief. Swiftwing Has a Nice Day was supposed to be Siren Song 's first side story. And it will be one day, but not in this form. Nice Day has already been through four total rewrites from scratch, and I'm not happy with any of them. This is the latest one, and I admit it's readable, but I don't think it's up to Siren Song's high standard. It should also be fairly accessible if you haven't read Siren Song.
And yes, Vision fans, it is canon.
-12:01 AM-
My eyes fly open. I’m wide awake. Why am I awake? My heart’s racing, my limbs stiff and tense, but I can’t move somehow. Why am I awake? Something woke me up, I’m sure, but I don’t see anything.
A crash roars in my ears—then two more right after it. Loud, echoing booms, the sound of metal and wood beating like a drum. “Security!” a voice snaps, muffled and distorted, seeming to rise and fall. “Open up.”
What? Have to get up! I try to shout back to them, but my throat won’t move right, and all that comes out is a strangled gurgle. Something’s wrong with my legs—I try to get up, but all that happens is I twitch feebly in bed, the darkness around me seeming to swirl and churn. My heart is thumping inside my ribcage, a hammer against the inside of my ribs, my breaths coming too fast and too shallow. Can’t breathe! Have to get up!
“Ma’am?” the stallion’s voice sounds again, his pounding on the door making the room thunder. They’ll break it down! Have to get up! I jerk my legs to the side, trying to roll out of bed. It works, but my knees buckle as soon as my hooves hit the floor, sending me tumbling down. My face hits the nightstand and the glass of water on it, pulling both down with me. I try to catch myself, but it’s too late and I go down onto the stone. Glass shatters, and I feel the wooden table legs jab me in the side. Have to get up! “Ma’am, are you okay?”
“I heard a crash,” another voice at the door, muffled and strange. “Force it.”
Oh, depths—they’re coming in! My legs feel bloated and useless, and the room is tilting this way and that. I grab the sheets in the darkness, trying to pull myself up, but they just slip off the edge of the bed, spilling down on top of me. Something cuts into my back. I fell on the glass! I’m gonna die! A brilliant flash blinds me, metal screaming as light pours into the room, white and brilliant. I squeeze my eyes shut, the light so bright its rays seem to stab down into my eyes. “I didn’t do anything!”
I hear hooves, see two shadows—dark splotches in the sea of white before me. Then they’re grabbing me, hauling me to my hooves. “I didn’t do anything! I didn’t—”
“Ma’am!” a stallion’s voice roars in my ears—a full-throated shout. “Ma’am, you are not in trouble!”
“I...” As I squint, the black blobs in front of me start to resolve themselves. I’m still breathing too fast, but the fog is starting to lift. There are little splotches of color on top of the black now, purple and green. A purple stallion and a green stallion, both in black uniforms with those little fiddling silver bits. Pins. “I’m not?”
“No, Ma’am,” the green one says. His head is still a blur, but I see it move a little and hear him chuckle. He sounds tired? Exasperated. “Now, just, sit down, Ma’am. Take a moment to recover. Everything is okay.” Strong legs guide me back to the edge of the bed, and I take a seat on the twisted undersheet. My heart is starting to slow down. I can breathe again—deep, soothing breaths. The two stallions are still just blurs of colors, but rubbing the sleep crud out of my eyes helps a bit. I think one of them is a unicorn.
“She cut her shoulder on the glass,” the purple one says, pulling me forward a bit as he twists his head around to look at me. I did? Oh, that’s right. I did. It doesn't hurt. “I don’t think it’s bad though.”
“Go fetch the medic anyway,” the green one says. He has a deeper voice, and as my vision starts to clear, I can see that he’s older. An earth pony, with a green coat, and a mane that used to be tan but now has some streaks of grey. Wait, medic?
“No, it’s fine. It doesn't hurt—”
“Just sit still, Ma’am,” the green one says, holding me down by my good shoulder as the purple one leaves the room. “This will only take a moment.”
“Th-thank you.” I shake my head, trying to toss out the last bits of fluff. Okay. I’m okay. The green security officer takes a seat next to me, watching me carefully as he holds me in place with a hoof. I’m okay. It takes a little bit, but my breathing starts to slow down as well, and I can’t feel my heart pounding anymore. The room is a mess—water and glass on the floor, end table knocked over, sheets a twisted lump, but at least I can see it now.
“Thank you, Officer,” I repeat. He has rank pins, but I don’t know how to read them. Officer is fine in general anyway, right? “Um... if I’m not under arrest, can I ask why you’re here at, um”—I glance at the clock on the wall—“midnight?”
“Sergeant Inkwell had an urgent message for you, and nopony at the station had one of your tokens,” he explains.
Oh, depths. Not again. I let my face sink into my hooves. Of course, I already know what he’s going to say. “What’s the message?”
“Your parents have been arrested,” the officer explains. “He needs you to come and post bail.”
-12:37 AM-
I lift my hoof to cover my mouth as I yawn. There’s nopony around to see it, but it’s polite, and habit, I suppose. The security station is pretty dead this early in the morning. The big posts like Myrina and New Cloudsdale never shut down, but this place is really just a security doll terminal, a drunk tank, and a hooffull of desks for the officers. There’s all of two ponies here right now, and I’m one of them. The other one is the officer at the front desk, an earth pony mare with a dark brown coat, and a tan mane cut so short it’s practically a frizzy mohawk. She’s not paying me any mind though, her muzzle buried deep in a book.
I guess it’s not so bad. I’m sitting on a little chair outside Sergeant Inkwell’s office, waiting for him to be ready. He’s on a wire, the mare said, and that’s okay. He’s a nice pony, and he knows it’s really early in the morning. I’m sure he wouldn't make me wait if it wasn’t important.
The waiting room is kind of nice too. It’s a little room, chairs all around the edge, plus one outside each of the offices. There’s a door in the back to the cells as well, but I’m not supposed to go there yet. Besides, it’s probably locked. Empty station means no other ponies to share it with—or worse, criminals—and there’s a coffee machine over in the corner. One of the new ones with the little clockwork doll that brews it in front of you and pretends to make conversation. Those things are so neat. I kind of want to use it just to see it work, but it would be a waste of a bit. And a waste of coffee too. I like coffee, but I’ll need to get back to sleep tonight.
Thinking about that only kills a few minutes, and there’s still no sign of the sergeant, so I go back to looking around the room. The walls are white stone, and I can tell they’re dry, because the posters on them haven't started to peel yet. They’re all posters I’ve seen before though: “Dark Words, Dark Deeds—Report Seditious Rumors,” complete with the comically evil-looking rebel, and “Sick? Lost? Afraid? We’re here to help,” with the Angel’s Garden logo and a tasteful print of Fluttershy helping up an emaciated pony.
The third and final poster is one of those new ones they’ve been putting up all over the public spaces. The charcoal stallion in it takes center stage, dramatically posed with one leg up, his burnt red mane tousled just so. He’s in full security uniform of course, the caption under him reading, “Keeping Our City Safe.” I stare at that one for a while, but it doesn't really click. It’s not that I don’t get it—I have plenty of marefriends who tell me that the point of the poster is that he’s hot, and I can sort of see it in an intellectual way, but there’s just nothing there for me. Not that that’s a surprise at this point, but sometimes I kind of wish there was. It would make things easier.
My eyes drift back to the mare at the front of the room. I wonder if she’s gay? It wouldn't exactly be a shock with how butch her manecut is. Besides, she’s a security officer, and you hear things about them—that the mares all want Rainbow Dash and the stallions all want each other. Then again, all three of the security officers I know are straight, so that’s probably just another stupid rumor. Besides, how would I like it if somepony assumed things about me just because of how I look?
She does look pretty good though. Her coat is shiny and smooth, her tail is long and neat, and that uniform doesn't do a lot to hide her figure. I’m usually not this crass, but she’s really toned, and uh... she has good hips. Generous, even.
I blush a little when I realize what I’m doing, and I look down and away. I’m being stupid. Even if she did swing my way, she could do way better than me. That’s not self-deprecating; it’s just a fact. She’s cuter and more mature and has a better job. I’m not giving up or anything. I just need to be realistic. She’d have expectations anyway. I’m a pegasus. I’m supposed to be fun and quirky and athletic and dynamite in bed, and I’m not really...
And now I’ve made myself sad. Way to go, Swiftwing. Way to go.
My ears fold back, and I sigh quietly, stretching my useless wings. All the joints pop on the left side, but only on the left side, never the right. It’s not depressing. It’s just a fact. I can’t fly, I’m not that exciting or interesting—a mare could do better. But I’m going to do something about it. I’m going to do something about it. Today, even! So it’ll be better soon, and that’s not sad.
I glance up. Maybe I could ask her? You know, just slip it in there. Hi, you seem really nice, would you like to go out sometime? Worst case she says no. I could just say it.
“Um... hello?” I say. But she doesn't look up from her book. I don’t think she noticed.
She’s probably busy. Besides, I’m not going to be free today. Busy. Big day.
I jump when the door handle turns. My head whirls, but it’s only Sergeant Inkwell, opening the door to look around. He’s a nice old unicorn. His coat is already grey, and his mane is already white, so you can’t tell how old he is just from the color, but he must be in his sixties by now. Age shows in a lot of other ways too. He’s really cut up from the war, a lot of scars on his sides that you can sometimes see around the uniform, a notch on his horn that won’t heal, and his magic doesn’t work quite right. You’d never call him ugly though. He looks more like everypony’s nice old granddad, kind of a mid height, stern features but a friendly expression.
“Hello, Swiftwing,” he says, looking over at me when he realizes I’m in the chair by the door. He sounds like everypony’s granddad too—nice, quiet, and a little gravelly. “Sorry that took so long.”
“Um. It’s alright,” I say, rising to my hooves. “Thanks for letting me know.” He steps back into his office, and I take the cue to follow, walking in behind him. It’s a little place, just a desk with some pictures of his family on it and old war photos on the wall. The floor is a bit damp, but there’s a grate and some metal chairs, so it’s fine. He trots around behind the desk, and I take my place in front of it, reaching back into my saddlebags to grab the little purse there.
“I’m sorry. I don’t have enough money for bail,” I say, nosing the little bag his way. Two hundred bits is a lot, but normally I could afford it. Today though... well. It’s not like I have a lot of savings anymore. “But there’s a hundred and twenty bits in there, and one of my figurines. She’s solid silver, so that’ll probably make up for most of it.”
He opens the bag carefully, using his hooves and magic together. The glow from his horn is flickering and intermittent, but it helps him get the knots open. The money spills out onto his desk, mostly in ten-bit pieces, and Princess Luna spills out along with it.
I’m really proud of her. I didn’t cast the silver myself, obviously, but I did all the sketching and posing the silversmith used, and I brushed the color onto her after. I used a special metal-stain that adds these beautiful blue and purple streaks. Not enough to really paint her, but when she catches the light just right, you can see all the colors of the aurora sparkling in her mane. Or I’d like to think that. I’ve never seen the aurora, so I had to work from pictures. He’s taking his time in examining her, so I guess he think she's pretty too.
After a little while, he sighs, shaking his head and pushing her and the money back to me. “Keep it,” he says. “A mare your age should have something to be proud of. I know your parents are going to show.”
“Um,” I say, looking at the bag. I don’t want to take charity, but I did work really hard on her. It took me four hours just to sketch her upraised wings, with every little feather. “Thank you. Sir.” I put her back in the bag with the money, careful her horn doesn't get caught on anything.
“Don’t thank me, Swiftwing,” he says, a bit more firmly now. “You’re too young to be giving up the things you treasure. You should be spending that money on yourself, not using it to get your parents out of jail.”
“I know, sir,” I say, glancing down at his desk. There’s a little jar of pens. And a lighter. I didn’t think he smoked. “I’ve talked to them about it.”
“Well then talk louder ,” he says, leaning over the desk. I glance up, and for a second, he’s looking me right in the eye, his muzzle turned into a frown. “I know your dad is a good doctor, Swiftwing. But no matter what I know, practicing medicine without a license is a crime .” He emphasizes every syllable, and when I look down, he taps the desk sharply to get me to look back up. “You need to make him understand that.”
“I. Um. I know, sir,” I say, nodding quickly. “I’ll make him understand.”
“You need to do this, Swiftwing, you understand?” he asks, pointing right at me with a hoof, his voice quiet but forceful. “I appreciate what your parents are trying to do. That’s why I get them in off the streets as fast as I can. As far as anypony else is concerned, I busted them for drunk and disorderly tonight,” he says, with a wave of his hoof.
“But if they keep this up,” he continues, “one day, the Pavilion is going to notice them before I do, and then they’ll get their legs broken. You understand? Your dad can go to the hospital to renew his license, or he can go to the hospital in a stretcher, but this has to stop.” He points at the desk to emphasize the words, tapping it with the edge of a hoof as he finishes.
“I understand, sir,” I say, swallowing and nodding gently. It’s nothing I haven't heard before, even if it is true. “I’ll... talk to them.”
“Alright,” he nods, his frown softening. “I’m sorry to put this on you. I’ve tried talking to them myself, but they’re a stubborn pair. I hope you’ll have more luck.”
“I’ll try, sir. And really, thank you,” I say. He smiles a little and gets up. I guess that means we’re leaving, so I get up too.
“It’s alright. Come on, let’s go get them out,” he says, opening a desk drawer to get his ring of keys and moving around towards the main room. Again, I follow him, and we walk towards the door to the back.
My parents just about have the place to themselves tonight. When we push through the door, I can see that they’re alone in the tank, other than a dirty grey mare sleeping something off. Dad looks so uncomfortable, standing stiffly in the center of the cell and looking around. Even if this isn’t his first time here, he’s the spitting image of a prim and proper high-society unicorn stuck in the drunk tank. Mom’s at ease though. She shoved the actual drunk off the cot so she could lay out on it herself, and she practically looks comfortable. She’s a lot less jumpy than Dad too—he starts when the door to the cells opens. She just languidly stretches out her legs and wings.
“Swiftwing?” Dad asks when he spots me, immediately turning his gaze on Sergeant Inkwell. “I told you to stop bothering her!” Even in a place like this, he manages to sound really proper. A good, crisp, how-dare-you-sir sort of indignation.
“And I told you I didn’t want to see you on the street again,” Sergeant Inkwell replies as he opens up the cell door. “So it looks like both of us are going home unhappy tonight.”
“Speak for yourself, jackshod,” Mom says, sliding off the cot and stepping over the drunk at her hooves. “His night’ll be fine—I think brave stallions are hot. You enjoy that empty house and picture of Rainbow Dash though.”
“Mom!” I shout, a hot blush rising to my cheeks. It’s bad enough I have to picture... her and Dad, without her antagonizing the officer who can put her right back in that cell! Sergeant Inkwell takes it as well as I could have hoped for, his frown turning into something stiffer.
“Shut up and walk,” he snaps, shoving them both along. “I forgot to take your pictures on the way in. You know the drill.”
They do know the drill by now. Each of them gets their turn in front of the camera, holding the little sign in their teeth. Dad’s reads “High Mind, 42, Drunk and Disorderly.” His dark coat and pepper mane don’t come out well on the first photograph—the exposure is too short, and he ends up as a mass of dark, forcing the sergeant to set the camera up again. Dad just takes it with his usual silence. He has a stern, square sort of face, one that fits a frown very naturally. When Inkwell does eventually get the camera to work, that frown makes Dad look like a convict glowering at the camera. Which he is, I suppose. Next, Dad stands, hangs the sign over his barrel, and they take a shot from the side. His cutie mark is a pony sleeping under three stars, but his special talent is medicine—it’s symbolic.
Mom goes a lot faster. “Sea Stead, 41, Drunk and Disorderly.” She’s pretty—a bit out of Dad’s league, really. Athletic build, aquamarine coat, a sea-green mane that’s always perfect, even though she never takes care of it. I don’t know how they ended up together. Her cutie mark is a crimson “A” inside a circle, standing out sharply against her coat. She said her special talent is thinking for herself, but she was never an artist or anything, even before she stayed home to take care of Spot Light and me.
Of course, with a distinguished noblepony dad and a beautiful athlete mom, it makes total sense that I’m a fat, scruffy orange pegasus. I swear, if there weren't photos of me as a baby with Mom, I’d think I was adopted. Though I do have her mane, I guess.
“Did you get my good side? ‘Cause we can do it again,” Mom says, after the sergeant snaps her flank picture. His frown hasn’t gotten any less stiff since she left the cell, and he just quietly puts her picture into the bin with the others.
“That attitude wasn’t funny when you were a punk foal,” Sergeant Inkwell answers her. “Now it’s just sad. It’s time to grow up, Ma’am.” I don’t like that he’s talking about her that way, but from his perspective, I guess it makes sense. Besides, I don’t want to argue with him.
“Well, hey—”
“Dear, don’t antagonize him. It’s late,” Dad says, stepping up to her side. Her lips purse and she glances between him and the sergeant, but she doesn't speak. I guess Dad takes that as her agreeing, because he looks back to the sergeant. “Can we go now?”
“Yeah, get out of here,” Sergeant Inkwell says, jerking his head towards the door.
Mom and Dad waste no time going that way. “Come along, Swiftwing,” Mom chirps as they move past, but I hold up a hoof to signal for a moment.
“I’ll be right along, just a sec,” I say, letting them leave before I turn back to the sergeant. I guess he knows what’s coming, because he’s looking at me, and his expression has already softened a bit. “I’m really sorry about Mom. She’s not as bad as she seems though, I swear. It’s all just hot air and her trying to be cool.”
“I know, Swiftwing,” he says, smirking a little as he adds, “Trust me, if anypony else copped that attitude with me, they’d get more than a glare. Your parents are good ponies, but they need to start taking this seriously or they’ll end up in real trouble. Remember what I said and go talk to them, okay?”
“Yes, Officer. Thank you,” I say, nodding my head. “Um. Morning shift, tomorrow?”
“Not morning for me.” He chuckles. “But yes, I’ll probably be there. Run along now.”
I thank him again and trot outside. We’re in a good part of town, where the shops close at a respectable hour, so the street is pretty much vacant except for a hooffull of ponies restocking shops and some pegasi from maintenance working on the lights. Mom and Dad are at the base of the steps outside the security station, talking to each other and waiting for me.
“You weren’t in there apologizing for us, were you?” Mom asks as Dad lifts his hoof to cover a wide yawn. What do I say to that? I start to stammer something out, but I don’t think she’s buying it, because she just shakes her head and walks up to me. “It’s okay, sweetie,” she says with a disappointed little sigh, leaning down to nuzzle the top of my head right between the ears. “You shouldn't do that, but thank you for coming to bail us out. Come on, let’s walk home. It’s late, and your father is tired.”
“Um, alright.” I nod, falling into step with them. They walk on either side of me, Dad on the left and Mom on the right. I don’t live at home anymore, of course, but my apartment is in Tiara Tower as well, so we’re headed in the same direction most of the way. “So, uh. Running the clinic in the old farmers’ market, again?”
“Mmmhmm,” Dad nods, speaking with his usual quick, polite intonations. “There was a dentist there today named Bright Shine—set up right there next to us. I should have thought of it first. In retrospect, it’s obvious that those poor ponies aren’t getting proper tooth care either. She must have drilled a hundred cavities before the sergeant came to take us away. The line stretched down the block.”
“Yeah, uh... do you think that might have been how security found you?” I ask, my eyes around Dad’s hooves. I can’t quite look him in the eye right now, though I do glance up that way. “I mean, maybe?”
“Yeah, probably,” Mom says, her tone meandering and indifferent. She shrugs. “But that’s also how the ponies who needed help found us.”
“Right...” I pause for a moment, letting out a little breath as I lower my head. “Right, but... Mom. Dad. Look, we can’t keep doing this.”
“Late night walks?” Mom asks, with that oh-so-innocent tone.
“Mom!” I snap. I don’t know why she does this sometimes. I’m trying to have a serious conversation here, and all she does is make fun of me.
“Alright, alright. I’m sorry, Sweetie,” Mom says, shaking her head. “But we’ve already talked about the clinic. It’s your father’s decision that he’s going to help those poor creatures no matter what the Pavilion has to say about it, and if he’s going to take that risk, I’m going to be there with him.”
“I know, Mom,” I say, turning my head to look up at her. “I know that helping ponies in need is a good thing. Everypony knows that. That’s why Sergeant Inkwell is running you into the drunk tank instead of charging you. But there are limits.”
“To helping ponies?” Dad asks. He doesn't even have the decency to snap. If he was angry, I could yell back, but he just asks it like he was honestly curious. I’m not a teenager anymore, and he doesn't need to keep acting like I am.
“Yes! Uh—” I catch myself. “I mean, no. I mean, look, Dad. Every doctor moonlights or does freebies sometimes. The Pavilion doesn't care and City Central Security definitely doesn't. The only reason it’s a problem is because you’re flouting the rules so hard there are lines of ponies stretching down the block .” I try to emphasize it as hard I can, putting a lot of weight on every word. “Do you see what I’m trying to say here?”
“So, what would you suggest then?” Dad asks, not missing a beat. He has a funny way of walking, lifting each hoof high off the stone and back down. Mom said that’s how they teach you to walk in Canterlot, because dragging your hooves is gauche, but I just think it looks funny.
“Get your medical license, open a real practice, and just... you know.” For a second, I fumble for the words. “See some ponies off the books.”
Mom and Dad don’t answer at first, and we walk in silence for a few steps. I don’t know why they’re not talking, but they always do this. They always have some cue to keep quiet, and I’m left standing there looking stupid. “I mean, Security will overlook a lot as long as you at least pretend to follow the rules. They like what you’re doing, they just don’t like that you’re flouting their authority. I mean it’s... you know.” Still, they don’t say anything, and my ears fold back as a hot blush rises to my cheeks. “You’re embarrassing them.”
We walk a few more steps without anypony saying a word. I look at the ground.
“That burning feeling in your cheeks is shame, Swiftwing, and you’re feeling it because we raised you better than that,” Dad says, his words a little more clipped than usual. He shakes his head. “I will do no such thing.”
“Dad...” I say, struggling to find the words. My throat is all choked up though, and it takes me a second. “Sergeant Inkwell is going easy on you because he likes me, but he’s not the only security officer in the city. One day, somepony else is going to catch you, or worse, some Pavilion enforcers will find you, and then you’re going to be in real trouble.”
“Rough me up, will they?” he asks, like this was somehow my fault!
“Dad, they’ll rough you up if you’re lucky!” I snap. “If you’re not lucky, they’ll break your legs and send Mom to New Cloudsdale to make sure you get the message. Do you understand that, Dad?” I ask, pleading with him to take me seriously for once! “Do you want Mom to spend the rest of her life in a lightning gang?”
“I’ve done weather work before, Sweetie,” Mom says, her tone dry. “I’m not the wilting flower you seem to think. And I’m also quite capable of making my own decisions. I said I support your father, and I meant it.”
“Why?” I ask, turning to look at her head-on. “Why, Mom? Why can’t you two just do what all the other doctors do and not make trouble?”
“Because it’s wrong , Swiftwing,” she says, shaking her head. “Those ponies are suffering. They’re going mad from addiction because they can’t get the drugs they need, they’re in constant pain, and we’re not supposed to help them because it embarr asses Rarity .” Mom comes to a stop, and Dad does as well after he notices, the three of us coming together. “She can claim that a hundred bits to have a doctor glance in your direction is a fair price, but I’m not going to pretend it’s true.”
She sighs, her wings fluttering for a moment as she looks down at me, tilting her head to one side. “Do you really think it’s okay that I could be sent to a work camp just for making the wrong pony look bad?”
“No. No, of course not,” I say, sighing and shaking my head. “But, that’s how it is. You learn to deal with it and find a way to help ponies anyway.” I don’t like it when she looks at me that way, and after a second, I glance down at the floor. “You’re not some badass rebel, Mom. You spent the war in a fortified tower with some of the richest ponies in the city. The only reason you’re free to talk about how wrong it is that the Pavilion’s goons beat anypony who messes with them is that Trixie’s goons kill anypony who messes with her.”
I trail off for a second, waving a hoof vaguely as I try to think of a way to finish. “I mean... you’re not going to overthrow the Pavilion by helping some homeless markers.”
“Swiftwing,” Mom snaps, her words coming quick and hot. “I spent the war in Tiara Tower because I wanted you and your sister to have a mother, and I do not appreciate you framing my love for you as hypocrisy.”
“I... I know, Mom,” I say, still looking at my own hooves. My throat is tight, my tail flicking back and forth. It’s like I’m a foal again. I’m nineteen, and I still let my parents scold me. “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m sorry. But... you are my mother, and...” My voice cracks a little. “And I don’t want you to go to a work camp.”
I hear her sigh, but soon, her forelegs are wrapped around me, and she pulls me close into a hug. “I know, Sweetie,” she says, nuzzling against the top of my head. “And I know you’re trying to do the right thing in your own way. But your father and I won’t go along with this.”
She puts a hoof on my shoulder, and uses the other to tilt my head up, looking me in the eye. “The Pavilion is evil , Swiftwing. They let ponies get sick so they can sell more drugs. They tell foals they’re ugly and worthless so they can charge their parents for child psychology. They invented a disease so they could sell a highly addictive drug as the ‘only cure.’”
“PCSD is real,” I say quietly. It is real! I’m a pegasus and I can’t fly. If that’s not a disease, I don’t know what is. “And there’s nothing wrong with tonics.”
She looks at Dad, and Dad just shakes his head. My cheeks are starting to burn again, so I stammer something out before they can make this even worse. “We shouldn't be having this conversation here.” I point off down the hall. “We’re not in Tiara Tower yet, and it’s probably sedition. Let’s not get arrested twice in one night?”
“Sweetie. Swiftwing,” Mom says. “That—”
“It’s late, dear,” Dad says, glancing pointedly at me. “Let’s go home, okay?”
We walk in silence for a long time. Down the hallway, past the tram station, and across some of the rail lines. We pass a few parts of the city that are still busy, even this late at night, but I know we’re getting near Tiara Tower again when it starts to get quiet and cold. We walk up to the security checkpoint, and Dad hits the buzzer. For a little while, there’s nothing to do but stand and wait for the night guards to come and open the door.
“Sweetie?” Mom asks, turning to look at me. “Why don’t you come by tomorrow? After work? We can all have dinner together like we used to.”
“I’ve got a thing after work tomorrow,” I say, shaking my head. Yeah. A thing. “With friends,” I add, like lying will somehow make it better.
“Can you cancel it?” she asks as Dad looks over at us. “I really think we should spend some time together as a family—the three of us and your sister.”
“Um... I don’t think so, Mom. It’s kind of important,” I say, flicking my tail this way and that. No, I can’t. Silver tickets are very non-refundable. Mom looks at me when I say that though. Scuffs her hoof a little. I know these... little get-togethers mean a lot to her. But I really can’t cancel! And I can’t tell her why, either. She’d never... I mean...
She’s staring at me. I can’t cancel. But... well. My appointment’s only at three o’clock. “I guess I’ll be free around seven though?”
“Oh, that’s fine, Sweetie. We’ll eat late,” Mom says. In front of us, the door mechanism starts to click.
“Yeah,” I say, weakly. “That’ll be good.”
-1:42 AM-
“Hi! I’m Swiftwing. I’m a nineteen-year-old pegasus mare, looking for another mare for, uh... well, a nice evening I guess, and see where things go from there? I’m looking for a companion, maybe even a serious relationship, but you can’t force these things, so I try to take it easy.
“I know I’m a little young for a personal, but I have trouble meeting ponies. Part of it is that my hobbies tend to be pretty solitary—I write some, and carve and paint little figurines. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little awkward though, so you might have to carry the conversation a bit until I relax. I promise I’ll make it up to you.
“Personality-wise, I guess I’m a little old-fashioned. My parents are both traditionalists, so I got a lot of that Equestrian stuff growing up. No mantles, learn to love your special talent, do the right thing and it’ll all work out. My cutie mark is a comet, and it stands for always going the extra mile for your friends and family. It’s from this pegasus legend about two brothers who sacrificed themselves to save their city, and so Princess Luna reincarnated them as comets and... anyway, it’s a cool story.
“Physically, I’m pretty tall. Big all around I guess. You have my picture, so I guess it’s no secret that I like to cook. I think I’m pretty good. Not great but—”
I turn the phonograph off.
I can’t cook at all.
Lying is wrong. Everypony knows that—honesty is even one of the Elements of Harmony. My boss, no less! I know I shouldn't have said that, but it just sounded better than “I work in a restaurant that uses a lot of sugar and butter and have a thirty-five-percent employee discount.” I thought it would make somepony more likely to respond, and then I could get to know her and sort of... work my way up to it.
Kind of a moot point now, though.
I look over at the slot in the door, like a reply was going to suddenly come in the middle of the night. Nothing, of course. I shut my eyes, and set my head back, letting out a breath. I get up at five for work—I should be asleep by now. The lights are still on though.
I could turn them off, I guess.
I groan, beating my head back against the pillow. I don’t know what I was thinking. Oh sure, Mom, I can stop by tonight. Right after I’m done betraying everything you and Dad stand for. Gosh, I’m sorry, did I make dinner awkward? I’ll have to tell her eventually , but not right after! Why did this have to happen tonight of all nights? I booked my ticket five weeks ago, and now it’ll seem like I did it to spite them.
I can just picture it now: Dad’s silent, disapproving stare; Spot Light poking at her food; my staring at the table like a stupid foal. And then Mom will ask, in the sweetest, nicest way, where they went wrong raising me. Oh, that’s gonna be just great!
My throat’s getting tight again. It’s not fair! Why couldn't I have been a unicorn? Dad’s a unicorn. Then I’d be an enchanter or something, and nopony cares if a unicorn is a little plush. Being magic means you don’t have to exercise! Even being an earth pony would be better than this. At least then nopony would expect me to be all athletic and sexy and outgoing. Maybe if it ran in the family or something it would be okay, but no. I had to be the daughter of a mare so perfect , my friends swear I’m making her up!
I pick up the pillow and hurl it at the door, but of course, it just hits the metal and then falls to the floor. That’s great. That’s just great. Way to have a winning personality to go with your good looks, Swiftwing.
Way to go.
After a little while, I sigh and slide out of bed. It shouldn't wind me just to sit up, but it does, and I have to stop to take a breath after I haul myself to my hooves. Sitting on the edge of the bed helps, and I reach down to pick up the pillow. This is childish, and I know it, but I still can’t sleep.
It’s perfectly reasonable to be stressed right now. Five weeks ago, my net worth, totaling all savings and—to use my fancy new vocabulary—salvageable assets , was twenty-four thousand, five hundred and twelve bits. That represents three years of working as a waitress and one year as a manager, with minimal expenses. Being a manager pays better, but living in an apartment instead of with my parents eats a lot of that, so it works out to about the same for all four years. All in cash, that comes to nearly seventy-five pounds of gold, enough to form a pile to cover my entire desk and then some. It was a good savings. Of course, the important word there is was , since my net worth right now is closer to negative five thousand.
I got a good deal though, I think.
Pretty sure.
I glance up at my desk and all the stuff there. There’s not much to my apartment. Really not much. A small shelf for my figurines, a wall mirror, a little chest for my paints and good horseshoes, a pile of books in the corner, a folding desk, and a bed that slides up into the wall. It’s supposed to slide up to make room for a desk chair, but it’s so close to the desk I usually just use the bed as a chair anyway. My desk has some cool stuff at least. A phonograph with three records including my personal, my alarm clock, some more books, reference pictures for my model, some brochures, and my ticket, of course.
I pick up the ticket first. It’s silver, printed on that fancy, stiff paper—maybe two hoof lengths long and half a hoof across. It glitters in the light when I nudge it with a hoof, and the writing on it stands out in relief. The Pavilion’s little stamp is on the far left, that little medical snake thing, pressed deep into the paper. The rest is taken up by big, stylized letters that give the place and time of my appointment: The Pampered Princess, 3:00.
“Thirty thousand bits, it had better be a pretty ticket...” I grumble, but it doesn’t feel good. I am being childish. Self-pity doesn’t get you anywhere. I brush aside the ticket, and reach for the brochure after it. It’s really pretty too—there’s no writing or anything, just this elegant, stylized drawing of Twilight Sparkle in a bathrobe on the front. She looks so comfortable and dignified that it works without any writing, and I unfold it gently.
It’s mostly pictures: ponies getting hot stone massages, an indoor field full of grass and flowering plants, mares in robes getting hooficures and their tails styled. The little captions talk about how steam diffusion and spa treatment let poison joke be absorbed through the skin, the natural way—which is supposed to be healthier than drinking it. Finally, the back has a list of treatments and prices alongside them. I’ve circled one. “Rainbow Athletic Tonic, Full Treatment.”
That seemed like the best value—out of all the ones I wanted.
There’s nothing wrong with going to a tonic spa. My parents won’t approve, but it’s my life and my money, and it’s not like I’m hiding anything from them. It’s normal and will help me feel good about myself and it’s healthy. Well, healthier. Poison joke may not be great for you, but neither is PCSD.
Not that I could fly even if my wings did work.
I lay my head down on the desk and let out a long breath. After a second, I reach a hoof up to my side, feeling the... generous padding there. I’m not a loser. I’m not. And even if I was, there’s no point in feeling sorry for myself. I’ve got some problems, yes, but I’m doing something about them and... and that’s fine. That’s good.
I’ll just work on my models for a bit and then go back to bed.
Princess Pile Drinking Games
One year, I decided to give a few of my pony friends commissions as Christmas gifts. Cold in Gardez was among them, and for his, he requested a Skyrim crossover fic. I went through several versions of the story before finding one I was happy with. This early version had a lot of potential, but somehow I could just never make it click.
In Twilight Sparkle’s mind, the key to being immortal was keeping a positive outlook. The way she saw it, anypony who lived long enough would eventually experience loss. Sometimes it would be a be a big loss or even a tragedy, like Celestia having to banish her own sister, Luna returning to find everyone she’d loved a thousand years dead, or Twilight’s own past troubles. There would also be little things that came more regularly, like a sweet child growing up to be a selfish jerk, or beloved traditions fading away. As long as there was life, the trouble would always keep on coming, and Twilight knew that if she let her troubles pile up inside her, they’d pile up forever until she cracked. That’s why immortals had to be able to let things go—to let all that stress flow away.
Twilight was good at it, but she knew she’d always been lucky. Things just seemed to go her way, and even when she did encounter a problem, it always came with a silver lining. For instance, her house was quite small—that was frustrating. Yet, on the other hoof, it took no effort whatsoever to keep clean, which was convenient since Spike was long since grown up. Likewise, while there wasn’t very much light—Twilight’s view of the outside was blocked by thick layers of insulation—she wasn’t cold at all. Given the roar of the blizzard outside and the occasional muffled profanity from the Kahjiit, she had a feeling that put her in a lucky minority.
She was actually getting a little concerned about them. They had nice thick furs—on top of their fur even—and one of them was a mage who knew some fire magic, but they would hardly have been the first convoy to vanish without a trace in one of Skyrim’s blizzards. Twilight wished that they hadn’t come north, both because she was worried for the Kahjiit and because Elsweyr had been beautiful, but there was nothing she could do. Ahkari set their travel plans, and Twilight would simply have to trust her judgement. Or, as she would say, “trust Kahjiit’s judgement.” Twilight was still getting the hang of the merchant-Kajhiit’s distinctive speaking style.
Things continued in that vein for some time. Twilight wasn’t sure exactly how long; she got a bit lost in her own thoughts. Eventually though, the roar of the blizzard was split by another sound—a distant roar, so loud it could be clearly heard from what must have been thousands of feet away or more. The steady crunch of the Kahjiit’s feet on the snow stopped immediately, and while Twilight could see nothing, she could picture their ears rotating as their heads slowly turned left and right. The roar sounded again, closer this time.
“We must run,” hissed a male voice. He wasn’t whispering, but he might as well as been for how hard he was to hear over the blizzard. Twilight wasn’t sure which of the two guards it was, but she guessed it was Kharjo. He tended to enunciate more clearly.
“No,” Ahkari answered, a bit easier to hear. Her voice was quite deep by pony standards, and very scratchy, but Twilight thought she still sounded feminine. “If it has seen us, Khajiit would only die tired, and will not find the sled again if we abandon it in the snow. We are almost there. Keep going.”
The roar sounded for a third time, closer still, along with some sort of rushing sound, but the Khajiit footsteps resumed their regular pace. Twilight spent the next several minutes on edge, waiting for the sound of the roar to materialize in a cloud of snow and fire. But it never did, and soon, the thick crunch of boots in the snow started to fade, giving way to lighter footsteps. The sound of the blizzard faded as though into a distance, and the formerly silent sled became audible as the screech of sled runners being dragged over a rough surface. The sounds took on a cavernous quality, and seemed to grow louder, though Twilight suspected that was just from the lack of background noise.
“Warm sands and friendly faces,” Ahkari called out suddenly. Her voice echoed deeply, and Twilight realized she was at least several yards away. Walking ahead of the wagon, perhaps. The distinctive roar of a fire spells carried through the air, but none of the guards shouted in alarm or pain. Twilight even thought she heard a few of them say mutter positive-sounding things in Ta’gara, but the words were too muffled to make out clearly.
“Such as it is,” said a man whose voice Twilight did not recognize. He was speaking loudly and clearly enough she could hear him, and his tone was civil. “A pleasure to see you again, Ahkari.”
“And you as well, my friend,” Ahkari answered. “Kahjiit feared they would not make your acquaintance again.”
“You’re free to stay here until the storm passes. It is sheltered and well ventilated,” answered the male voice. Twilight strained to listen, but could pick up few details. The speaker’s tone was still civil—polite would be a better way to put it—but Twilight doubted there was any real warmth between him and Ahkari. “I should be on my way though. They’ll miss me in Winterhold.”
“It is a brave man who will step outside tonight, but this one understands the need for discretion.” Twilight heard the Kajhiit moving, along with metal clinking and a few quiet words of Ta’gara. Then there was a loud snapping, a scraping, and the ring of metal hitting stone. Someone grunted, a latch clicked, and hinges let out an unsteady squeak. Light flooded into Twilight’s home as the lid of the trunk slid open and gave her windows a clear view of the outside world.
The trunk was turned to the side relative to the sled, and so it’s lid cut off Twilight’s view of half the room. She could not see the new male speaker, but she could see a lot besides. They were in a small cave of some sort, with the sled backed up in the entrance along with a great deal of snow. A fire burned in the center of the room, and most of the Khajiit were gathered around it, warming themselves and looking absolutely miserable. Khajiit were normally quite graceful—cats that walked like men, with a smoothless and balance to their motions. Now though, they looked less like proud lions and tigers and more like bedraggled housecats. They were wrapped up in the thickest furs but still shivered, their clothes, faces, and tails all caked with frost. Twilight hoped they were okay.
“Here,” Ahkari said, stepping around to the mouth of the trunk so Twilight could see her head on. She looked much like the other Khajiit, her normally silky black fur now wild and spotted with white. She had more dignity though, and though her hands shivered as she reached down into the trunk, she didn’t let her misery show on her face. She didn’t reach for Twilight’s home, but for one of the black soul gems beside it. Twilight had to share a ride with twelve of the things, but she didn’t mind. Ahkari lifted the gem out of the crate, handing it to someone on the other side of the trunk lid.
A long silence followed that, and no matter how hard Twilight tried, she couldn't make out any sound but the crackle of the fire and the distant roar of the blizzard. She considered speaking up, but Ahkari had made it clear she was not to talk unless presented, and Twilight could be patient. Perhaps two minutes later, the heard the male voice speak again. “Yes, the quality is fair. Let me see the next one.” The man and Ahkari traded crystals, and he likewise approved of the new gem, this time after only about thirty seconds. The unknown figure and the merchant repeated this process until he had inspected all the gems, and let out an approving grunt. “I will pay you the usual three-hundred each. But what about the Star?”
“It is here,” said Ahkari. “The brightest star as black as the night. Ahkari was pleased to be able to procure such a rare item.” Ahkari’s gloved hand settled around Twilight’s home, and the trunk seemed to fall away around her. Lifted above the lid, Twilight could see the cave more clearly, as well as the man they were here to meet.
He was a high-elf, perhaps somewhere in his early thirties, though with elves it was very hard to tell. Like many elves, his hair was a pale white, and his eyes were an off-yellow that wasn’t quite golden. Combined with his thin features and high cheekbones, it created a face that could be read as either magical and aristocratic or supernatural and menacing, depending on the mood of the viewer. He was wearing a black cloak and hood that looked a bit like a necromancers garb, but modified against the cold with a thick lining and fur about the cuffs and neck. He didn’t look very friendly, but Ahkari obviously thought he was trustworthy, and she was an excellent judge of character.
“Hello!” Twilight said, careful to be extra friendly so as to make a good first impression. “I’m Twilight Sparkle. What’s your name?”
The man stepped back sharply, narrowing his eyes at Twilight and then giving Ahkari a similar look. “It talks?” he asked, the frown on his face matching the obvious displeasure in his voice.
“I sure do! But uh... just for the record, I’m a ‘she’ not an ‘it.’” Twilight corrected him. “It’s okay though. You would not believe how many people make that mistake.”
“Is it not supposed to talk?” Ahkari asked slowly, a frown appearing on her own features as well. “Your description was quite specific—that the Star was home to a wicked spirit that whispered to those who held it.”
“The whispering would be mental. Magical. The Star can’t actually talk. And the spirit inside it is male.” The man set his jaw to one side. “Let me see it.”
Ahkari handed the man Twilight’s home, and he proceeded to turn it over carefully in his hands, examining it in great detail. “Uh... excuse me. I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re getting your fingerprints all over my windows,” Twilight said, and she was gratified to see the man pull a cloth out of his pocket to hold her house with, carefully wiping away the marks he had already made. “Thank you! Sorry to be fussy, but they’re just really hard to clean from in here.”
The man didn’t answer, nor did his frown lighten as he turned Twilight’s home over in his hands. “It matches your description exactly,” Ahkari said, now with a defensive touch to her words. “A black soul gem of uncommon power, possessed by a strange spirit, mounted on a golden base that forms the shape of a star.”
“It does match my description exactly,” the man agreed. He paused for a long time as he examined Twilight’s home even closer. “But this is not the Black Star. The Black Star’s base has arms—curled formations behind it that form the shape as a part of the item. Like a starfish. This base is sharp edged, and I think it’s purely decorative.”
“It’s my cutie mark,” Twilight explained. “You don’t know what cutie marks are, but basically, it’s a way of showing who lives here. Because I live here! Okay?”
The man and Ahkari alike gave Twilight a funny look at that, which she found difficult to read. Then they looked at each other again. “It’s not what I wanted, but it is obviously an interesting artifact,” the man said. “I’ll pay you a thousand for it, and buy another ten black soul gems next month.”
“Oh, am I being sold?” Twilight asked. “Is that why we came all the way up here?”
“It meets your description exactly.” Ahkari shook her head, her tail twitching sharply behind her. “Khajiit will take the two thousand you promised, and will not be returning next month.”
The man’s frown intensified, matched by furrows around his eyes. He glanced briefly at Twilight, but his full attention was clearly on Ahkari. “If I’ve offended you—”
“This one is not offended by a little haggling.” Ahkari shook her head. “But Ahkari will be returning to Elsweyr soon, and has no other convoy to take Ahkari’s place.”
“Oh that’s nice,” Twilight said. “I know you hate the cold. And Jo’pi will be so happy to see you again.”
The man didn’t answer right away, working his jaw as he thought. When he finally did speak, it was slowly, with words he’d obviously carefully considered. “Ri’saad assured me you’d be in business here at least until the end of winter.”
“Ri’saad is dead,” Ahkari said bluntly, shaking her head. “He was outside Whiterun when it burned. Ahkari is caravan master now, and Ahkari does not think this winter will have an end.”
“Oh! Ri’saad is dead?” Twilight asked, sympathy running through her words. “That’s awful. He was so nice. I’m sorry, Ahkari.”
Again, the man looked briefly at Twilight before returning his gaze to the caravan master, and again he spoke slowly and carefully. “The college has more money if that will keep a vital supply route open.”
“Khajiit must live to spend their money,” Ahkari answered, “and even if that were not so, can the college alone justify the trip? What few customers are not dead do not have the money to buy. The college is a good customer, and you as well, friend, but you are the only good customer left.” The man didn’t answer right away, staring blankly down at the trunk. “This one hopes that perhaps you will leave soon too.”
The stared at the trunk and at Twilight for several long moments more. He did not meet Ahkari’s gaze when he spoke. “Very well. I will pay full price for the artifact.” He handed Twilight’s home back to Ahkari. “Pack it up with the others.”
Ahkari took Twilight’s home, placing it down in the straw with the black souls gems. “Hey, Ahkari?” Twilight asked. “I just wanted to say, it was really great traveling with you. I’m sorry that Skyrim didn’t work out, but I know you’ll just do great back in—”
The top of the trunk shut, and Twilight’s house was dark again.
After that, Twilight was alone for awhile, but that was okay. It was frustrating, yes, but she needed some time alone to work through things. That was her good luck again—that silver lining. She made good use of her time alone and worked through some feelings. It was good to get stuff off her back.
Abruptly, Twilight heard the latch click, and just as suddenly the lid of the trunk opened. She saw the man from the cave there, though he’d removed his heavier furs. He was looking down at her with a narrow expression, his mouth drawn into a thin line. Twilight thought he looked stressed, so she did her best to cheer him up.
“Hello!” she said brightly. “It’s nice to meet you again. How are you doing today?”
“Not great,” the man answered. “Your screaming is keeping me awake.”
“Oh, hah. I’m sorry.” Twilight couldn't show much expression, so she was always careful to be extra expressive with her voice, exaggerating her tone so it was easy to read. In this case, exaggerated embarrassment, complete with little pauses for emphasis. “I was just talking to myself, and you know , you’re alone in a quiet space and lose track of how loud your voice has gotten. I really didn’t mean to keep you up.”
The man said nothing, but when Twilight heard the hinges of the chest squeak she quickly blurted out: “I bet I’d be quieter if I was out of the box. You know. Better acoustics. I promise, I uh... I won’t bother you.”
The man bit his lip as he considered Twilight, then reached down and, with a bit of cloth, picked up Twilight’s home. Elevated thus, she had a great view of the room they were in, and was pleasantly surprised by what she found. Bookshelves surrounded her—so many she first thought she was in a library. But then she noticed the bed, and the small dining table, and realized these were the quarters of a scholarly mage. Quite a powerful mage from how lavish the room was. It had two stories and was roughly circular, centered around a small garden in the middle lit by three mage lights, and the walls hung with noble banners, enchanted items, and powerful relics of the ancient past.
Twilight had plenty of time to soak it all in as the man carried her to the window, putting her house to rest on the sill. Through her windows, she could peer through his window, and look out onto the outside. There she saw the courtyard of some big, blocky stone building—not a castle but something like it. The courtyard was also circular in shape, and it was currently crowded with tents and miserable looking people. The people, the building, and the tents were all covered in snow, and it was still coming down.
“Well?” the man asked, and Twilight realized he was looking at her—furrowing that elven forehead of his.
“Oh, yes. Much better,” Twilight said. “Thank you, sir. You have a lovely view.”
The man grunted noncommittally, and returned to the room. He sat on the edge of the bed for awhile, the tangled sheets indicating that he’d been asleep prior to that point. He spent several minutes like that, alternately looking at his desks and staring off into space. Then, in the distance, a roar echoed—the same roar Twilight had heard before. It was far away, but it could still be heard clearly through the storm. The sound set off a minor panic in the courtyard as people rushed for cover behind pillars and under archways, but the man only looked at the window. After a few seconds, he rose from the bed and walked over to one of his desks—an enchanting table.
“Do you mind if I ask where we are?” Twilight asked, a question which—in her mind—was distinct from actually asking where they were. It was more polite.
“The Mage’s College at Winterhold,” the man answered. He knelt on the floor, and Twilight watched as he removed a stone from the floor, revealing a hidden space. From within, he drew a black soul gem. Unlike the ones that had shared a trunk with Twilight, this new gem glowed indicating that it held the soul of some unlucky mortal. The man returned the stone to its place, and then picked up an axe that was leaning against the enchanting bench. From the look of it, he was just putting the final details on some powerful arcane weapon.
“That’s fascinating! I’ve always wanted to study Tamrielian magic. I’m a wizard too, but from a very different tradition,” Twilight said, again with a cheerful kick to clearly show her mood. “I attended Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. You’ve probably never heard of it.”
The man did not answer, which Twilight took as confirmation that he had not heard of it. He was focused on his work, grasping the black soul gem in one hand as his other held an engraving tool. The tool’s long, sharp metal point etched thin lines on the axe, and as it did, the light in the black soul gem faded away. “So!” Twilight said. “These quarters are nice. Are you a teacher here?”
“I am the archmage of the school,” the man answered, without looking up.
“Well, that’s very impressive! Should I call you ‘Archmage’ then?” Twilight asked. The man shrugged. “Well then, sir, do you mind if I ask who all those people in the courtyard are?”
“That’s the town of Winterhold,” the archmage answered. “Or what’s left of it.”
“Oh.” Twilight paused. “Is that where you find souls to fill up all those gems?”
That got the man’s attention, and he turned to glare at Twilight. “No,” he said, returning to his work after a moment. “The townsfolk are here to protect them. The gems I have now are filled by bandits. And a giant.”
“And now you’re making them into an axe,” Twilight said. The man nodded. “Am I going to be made into an axe?”
“I haven’t decided,” the man said. “Your soul is very unusual, and it has an uncommon amount of power.”
“That’s because I’m not human. I’m a pony—a unicorn, to be specific,” Twilight said. She liked teaching. “Well, sortof. I started as a unicorn, then I ascended and was crowned a princess, which enhanced my natural magic. Pony princesses are called alicorns, and they’re actually naturally immortal! Or, well, ever-youthful, which isn’t quite the same thing as immortal.” She sighed theatrically. “The things you learn the hard way.”
The man nodded. He was focused on his work, and didn’t answer right away, but to Twilight’s surprise he spoke before she did. “I didn’t think unicorns were real.”
“Well, we certainly were real. I’m not certain we are real, if you follow. I haven’t seen another unicorn in... hoo.” Twilight considered. “Ages now. Not since the Ardad Republic, and even then, they were a rarity. First Speaker Morton had a pony couple as his honored guests—a unicorn and a pegasus.”
“I’ve never heard of this ‘Ardad Republic,’” the archmage said.
“Oh, uh...” Twilight paused while she thought. “It was a nation of minotaurs. Collapsed in its 877th year after a combination of wheat blight and drought caused massive crop failures and starvation. It was nearly a hundred years before one of the warlords was able to restore order to the region and establish a dynasty. Perhaps you’ve heard of the Kingdom of Porphyria?”
“No,” the archmage said. “And I didn’t think Minotaurs were real either.”
“Well they... probably aren’t,” Twilight said slowly. “The Kingdom of Porphyria was conquered by vampires who didn’t have much interest in the population aside from food. It took them less than two hundred years to completely depopulate the region and resettle it with slaves. Perhaps you’ve heard of Diamond Dogs? They’re beastfolk, like the Khajiit? And I saw humans not long after that. The Atmorians?”
The man paused. “Yes, I’ve heard of them,” he says. “According to history, the Atmorians were the first race of men, who came to Tamriel during the First Era.”
“Right!” Twilight said, downright gleeful now that she’d found a connection. “Right. I remember that. Back then, I was living with this nice old wizard. When the Atmor conquered and slew the vampires, he found me, and asked me all sorts of questions about history.” She let out a happy sigh at a fond memory. “That was weather got awful. See—I’m from a part of Atmor that used to be called Equestria, and there, ponies were responsible for maintaining harmony with nature. The minotaurs did a pretty okay job after we were gone, sure, but all of that was lost when they were conquered, and after that it was straight downhill. Humans never did get the hang of it.” The man shrugged. “So, do you know anyone from Atmor?”
“The continent is uninhabited, even by animals” the man said. “Lifeless. It’s so cold your spit freezes before it hits the ground, and the sun does not shine for months on end.”
“Woah!” Twilight said. “When did that happen?”
“A little over two thousand years ago. Historians aren’t sure exactly when,” the man said. He lifted his eyes from his work and looked at Twilight, but of course he couldn’t see her reaction. Her windows were one-way like that, which was awesome, but did sometimes frustrate her slightly.
“Oh,” Twilight said. A long silence followed that, and with a casual cheer, she added, “I guess I lost track of time. You know how it is.”
The man peered more closely at Twilight’s home, and then shrugged. He returned to his engraving, and the next several minutes passed in silence. Twilight didn’t feel like talking just then, and so she returned to looking out the window. Down in the courtyard, she could see the people struggling to shovel snow out past the edge of the building. Twilight was pretty sure the building was on a cliff above the sea, and when she peered out into the distance, she thought she could see a town nearby. When she looked more closely though, she saw it wasn’t a town—just exposed timbers and skeletons.
“So what happened?” the archmage asked. His expression was hard to read, but Twilight saw traces of curiosity. Something else too—a weariness about the eyes. “To... what did you call it? Equestria?”
“We were conquered by a race known at Changelings,” Twilight said. “Parasitic insectoid shapeshifters. We’d defeated them once before, when they tried to conquer Canterlot during my brother’s wedding. But they returned a few years later and... well.” She paused. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“That’s alright,” the man said. “How did you end up in a black soul gem?”
“Queen Chrysalis wanted to steal my power for herself, so she prepared a crystal that would drain the life energy from an injured pony. I’d never heard the name ‘Black Soul Gem’ before then, so I think I might have been the first. She was surprised that I was still conscious...” Twilight trailed off. “She liked that. She kept me in the war room so I could watch as her hive conquered the rest of Equestria.”
“Did that work?” the man asked. “Did the gem let her steal your power?”
“Why?” Twilight demanded, a flash of anger running through her words. “So you can steal it for yourself? Is that why you bought me?”
“Yes,” the man answered. “The college is besieged. I need all the power I can get just to keep it safe, and sometimes that means doing things that... I’m not proud of.” The man paused in his work and lifted his hand to his face, running it over his mouth and chin like a human man might stroke his beard. Of course, there was no hair there on an elf, and Twilight suddenly wondered if he’d picked up the gesture in human lands. “Having access to the magic of an ancient wizard could save many lives.”
Princess Pile Drinking Games
Stupid Sexy Bat Ponies pt 1
Once upon a time, I was joking around with Pav Feira (#BlamePav), and told a joke to the effect that my ultimate shame as a writer will be when I stop trying to write serious stories, and just write shipfics about those stupid sexy batponies. The discussion progressed, and soon we'd outlined a fic where Rainbow Dash turns herself into a bat pony, only to discover that bat ponies have a terrible secret weakness. They're so sexy nopony can keep their hooves off.
I may write it yet, but the first draft turned out a little... odd.
“Hey Twilight, check this out!” Rainbow Dash called, pulling back her hoof and gathering her strength. “Boom!”
With a thunderous crash, the double doors to Twilight’s castle library flew open, and through them strutted Rainbow Dash. She moved like she was on a parade ground, head held proudly and legs making a high step. She was clad in armor—heavy plate that varied from light to dark purple, and branded in the front with the slitted All-Seeing Eye of Night. Her hooves were capped with brushed steel boots, and she carried a helmet by her side, clipped to her saddle straps. She looked every part the proud soldier, complete with a cocky grin.
But her grin revealed more than her pride. It showed that her canines were sharply exaggerated into two pronounced fangs, far from the only part of her body so transformed. Her eyes had become slitted like a cat’s, she’d grown taller and more angular of frame, and her once proud pegasus wings were gone, replaced with a leathery pair of purple bat wings, stretched out to either side of her.
Twilight gaped. She stared. From her place by her reading desk, her eyes tracked Rainbow Dash in mute shock, as he jaw hung open below. Rainbow chuckled at the sight, flexing her wingtips and the little claws there. “Pretty cool, huh?”
“You... what?” Twilight stammered. After moment she found her breath, letting out a louder and far more coherent, “What!?”
“I joined the Night Guard!” she replied, speaking quickly and energetically. “It gets even better. Watch this!”
Rainbow Dash clicked her tongue loudly, and more than half the lamps in the library abruptly went out. It was late—just past nine—and with no sunlight to replace the absent flames, the room was instantly plunged into gloom. Twilight squeezed her eyes shut at the sudden change of illumination, but Rainbow found no obstacle, easily navigating her way across the dark room. “Cool, right? I have power over darkness! It’s like being a unicorn only not nerdy!”
“You what!?” Twilight repeated. She called power into to her horn, and quickly relit the lamp nearest her. She blinked twice, waiting for her eyes to adjust so she could see. “You... you joined the Night Guard? Why!?”
“Oh, it was fantastic,” Rainbow explained, speaking faster and faster as the eagerness in her voice grew. “See, I was in Canterlot for the big Wonderbolts show? They invited me there, and I was so sure it was to tell me I was finally onto the team. The real team that is, not the stupid Reserve. But then it turned out that they’d only invited me because Princess Celestia asked them to as a favor, and when I tried to talk about the team, all Spitfire could say was ‘maybe next year!’”
Rainbow Dash spread her forelegs wide, lifting up off the ground with two mighty wingbeats. “Like, next year? ” Her eyes narrowed, and she let out a sharp snort. “I’ll be old by then!”
“Yes yes Rainbow. That’s very sad,” Twilight said quickly and curtly. “And this leads to you being a bat pony how?”
“That’s that brilliant part!” Rainbow grinned wide, showing off her fangs in the process. “So there I am at the show, not really enjoying it. And there’s the opening dedication to Celestia. And I turn to look around, and the royal box is just the next box over, and there’s Luna! And she doesn’t really seem to be enjoying it either. And I thought, well yeah, the dedication is to Celestia. What is she, Princess Junior? That’s not fair. And then, like a bolt of lightning , it hits me!” Her voice rose to a shout, and then abruptly, she zipped down to Twilight’s side, looking at her friend eye to eye.
“So I slide over.” She learned her head in close to Twilight, and lowered her voice. “And go, ‘Hey, Princess. How would you like your own Wonderbolts? Only better.’”
Twilight’s jaw fell open again, and Rainbow fell back in the air, clapping her hooves together like an overexcited school filly. “The Shadowbolts! Only they’re real and not evil and I get to be Captain!” she squeaked.
“Rainbow, you...” Twilight took a quick breath, holding her hoof to her heart. “You can’t start your own elite flying team!”
“But Princess Luna totally can,” Rainbow said, undeterred. “We even have our first recruits.
“But joining the Wonderbolts was your dream!”
Rainbow settled down on top of Twilight’s desk. She held a hoof to her chest, resting over the Eye of Night in a mock salute. Her gaze was resolute, her back straight, and her eyes ahead. “Yes, Twilight. It was. But I have a new dream now.”
“To...” Twilight hesitated. “Build a flying team in Luna’s name?”
“To kick Spitfire’s butt so hard she hits the moon, and then my awesome new Princess and I have to get her down. And then she’ll be all ‘if only we’d let you on when we had the chance!’ and I’ll be all ‘too late!’ and then rub her nose in the moon dust before we help her down.” Rainbow Dash cleared her throat, and then relaxed her hoof, pretending to brush the dust off her armor. “Or whatever.”
“Okay...” Twilight took a long, deep breath, taking a moment to regain her composure. “Putting aside everything that is wrong with that plan, you can’t just change your species on a whim!”
“I can if it’s a better species,” Rainbow leaned down to nudge Twilight’s shoulder. “I mean, pegasus pride is fine and all that, but check this out. Being a bat pony is exactly the same as being a pegasus except ...”
Rainbow spread her wings wide, and then pointed to them with the tip of an armored hoof. “Wings don’t need to be preened every other day, and I don’t have to oil them if I want to go swimming.” Next, she pointed to her face. “Awesome night vision. I can see the whole town like it was day.” She reached up to her head, stroking back her mane and twitching her fluffy ears. “Amazing hearing. On the train back from Canterlot, I could hear conversations three cars ahead of me. I can make squeaking sounds and tell what a room looks like from the echoes. And and, wait for it!”
Rainbow turned towards one of the library windows, opened her jaw, and let out a high pitched squeak. The window rattled in its frame, and a moment later, shattered into a thousand pieces. “Neat, huh?”
Once again, Twilight stared in silence—but not at the window. Her eyes were on Rainbow Dash. “Uh...” she managed, a small blush rising to her cheeks. “Yeah. I mean... it looks good. And bat ponies are really cool. But... it’s just so sudden.” Twilight shook her head. “When did you even have time to do this? In my... uh. My research. I thought the Ritual of Umbral Form took a full night and a full day to complete.”
“No, it takes about an hour,” Rainbow Dash shook her head. “Don’t feel bad though. All that stuff you were getting ready for your book or whatever helped give me the idea in the first place.”
“Only an hour?” Twilight frowned. She turned to her desk and pulled open one of the drawers, rustling through the paper inside. “No, no that’s not right at all. That means I have to change everything after...” She let out a sharp breath. “Okay, look, I’ll deal with that later. I can see the advantages you’re talking about, Rainbow, and I like bat ponies as much as the next hot-blooded mare. But this is a huge life change on no notice. Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“Well, Twi,” Rainbow Dash gave a small roll of her eyes. “I’m pretty much stuck with it at this point, unless there’s a magical undo button on that ritual.”
“No,” Twilight said quietly. “It’s very permanent.” She swallowed. “You know, back when they thought bat ponies were vamponies, they called it the ‘embrace’? It got so popular that some bat ponies actually started using—”
“Hey, bat pony history. That’s great. I’ll need to know about that to properly represent my new race and stuff. But how about you tell me later?” Rainbow Dash reached down to make sure her helmet and armor were secure, and then indicated the window with her muzzle. “I’m still getting used to these bat wings, and Luna told me the first night of practice is important. I just wanted to drop in to give you the good news.”
Twilight paused, glancing between Rainbow and the window. “Okay,” she finally said, albeit it with some hesitation. “But I’ll see you tomorrow? With the other girls? We should really talk this over.”
“You’ll see me tomorrow night ,” Rainbow said, her brashness returning as she lifted off for the window. “Oh! But don’t spoil the surprise for everypony else. I know you diurnal types are up early, but I really want to tell them myself.”
“Rainbow...” Twilight sighed, lifting a hoof to her face. “Okay. If that’s what what you want.”
“Thanks, Twi. You’re the best!” Rainbow spread her wings, and lept out the window, flying high above Ponyville. Unlike her old pegasus wings, her bat wings produced almost no sound when they moved. She flew silently, peacefully, under the watchful stars.
Her slitted eyes rapidly dilated, growing wide until she could see like it was day. There, under the silvery light of the moon, was revealed the softer shades of the world, invisible under the harsh sun. Rainbow could see the world in its most private moments, and she could see it when it was at peace.
Peaceful thought it was, the world she flew over was not empty. It was filled with life. As Rainbow slowly banked and turned over Ponyville, her ears picked up the chirping of insects, the growls of prowling animals, and the rustle of the wind in the trees. She could even hear ponies. Hear them talk in their sleep. Hear them mumble as her princess visited them in dreams. Rainbow soon realized that there were even a few ponies still awake. She could sense them moving around, talking, occupying themselves through the long and sleepless nights.
Rainbow paused in her flight motions, and began to slide. She frowned, and swiveled her ears, focusing more intently. Her frown deepened. Then she scrunched up her muzzle and pulled back her jaw.
“Oh, ew!” she shouted, pulling into a hard dive. She bolted directly towards one of the houses of Ponyville, screeching to a stop outside the second floor window and throwing the shutters open. “Keep it down, perverts!”
Lights came on in the wake of Rainbow’s shout, but she was already flying up and away, back towards the edge of town and its open flying ground. “Okay,” she said to herself, “Small snag on the first night. But that’s fine. Night flying is still way cooler when you can see. So overall? Yeah, totally a plus.”
She took a breath, picking up speed. “Yeah,” she said. “This is gonna be great.”
Princess Pile Drinking Games
Stupid Sexy Bat Ponies pt 2
The sun was just rising when Rainbow Dash knocked on the front door of Carousel Boutique. She yawned, waited, and turned to watch the golden light slowly fill Ponyville’s streets. It had been a long night of flying, and her new wings ached, leaving her more than ready to get to bed. But she still wasn’t used to her new nocturnal cycle, and sleeping at daybreak didn’t feel quite right. After some fruitless pacing and flying laps, she’d eventually found her way to Rarity’s home, to accomplish one last task before calling it a night.
After half a minute of silence, Rainbow yawned wide. Her new ears could detect no sounds of movement within the house, much less any sign of Rarity coming to answer the door. She again lifted her hoof, and pounded on the door. There was again no answer, but this time, Rainbow only waited a few seconds before knocking again. Then again. Then she rang the bell. Then she pounded on the door with her rear hooves, and rang the bell again. Then she started using both forehooves and a wing at the same time, managing a passable rendition of the Cloudsdale Anthem with only two different knocks and one rapidly toggled bell.
“Rainbow Dash!” Rarity’s voice shot out of the boutique window. “I am going to come down there, rip your wings clean off , and shove them so far up under your tail you’ll puke feathers!”
“Hey Rarity!” Rainbow called back. “How’d you know it was me?”
It would not have taken Rainbow’s new ears to detect the snarl that followed, nor the slamming door, nor the heavy hooves on the interior stairwell as Rarity rushed downstairs. “It’s six in the morning you cretin! You had better have a good reason for—” She ripped over her front door, staring out at Rainbow Dash in front of her. “For...”
Rainbow Dash grinned as Rarity gaped, her head turned so as to show off her new fangs. She lifted her ears, spread her wings, and held her head high, one leg lifted to complete the pose. She cleared her throat as Rarity continued to gape. “Oh, I didn’t mean to wake you up Rarity. I was just about to call it a... night? And I won’t be back until evening. I just thought you want to get the news now.”
“Uh...” Rarity managed, rubbing at her eyes with both hooves. She blinked, and refocused her gaze. “Yes. Uh... yes, of course. Please, come in.”
Rainbow trotted in proudly, Rarity’s gaze following her. Rarity’s fluffy pink robe and slippers stood out in a sharp contrast to Rainbow Dash’s burnished armor, as her stunned expression emphasized Rainbow’s confident smirk.
“I was just in Canterlot,” Rainbow explained, giving a little swish of her tail. “Luna wants her own flying team—like the Wonderbolts—and she asked me to be Captain. I know, it’s a big change on short notice, but she is the Princess of the Night and all.”
“Well,” Rarity said, speaking slowly as she shut the door behind her. She was still staring at Rainbow Dash, her gaze unbroken. “You could hardly refuse a royal request.”
“Exactly!” Rainbow said, tapping the Eye of Night on her chest. “It’ll require some adjustment. Sleeping during the day and guarding ponies dreams and all that. But I know I’m up to it. And it’s got a ton of cool perks.”
“Well, I can see that,” Rarity agreed, stepping up to Rainbow Dash’s side. “I have to say, it’s a wonderful look for you.” Her eyes slowly traveled up and down Rainbow’s altered form. “You seem stronger than you did before, yet somehow... svelte? It’s hard to say. It has this mysterious quality.”
“I am a lot stronger now,” Rainbow agreed. She hesitated for a moment as Rarity reached out, running her hooves over Rainbow’s new wings. “Oh yeah, those are pretty cool too. They look leathery, but, they’re actually really soft.”
“I can feel that.” Rarity learned over to brush her cheek against the edge of a wing. “Oh, these would present a wonderful challenge to design for.” A smile touched her face, and she folded Rainbow’s wing back, she caught Rainbow’s eyes with hers. “You’ll need an all new wardrobe of course. I’d be happy to make it for you—as a gift.”
“Oh, thanks, Rarity, but the armor is kind of a uniform,” Rainbow gave a stiff chuckle, and tapped the armored chest plate twice.
“Well, you’ll need something for when you’re off duty, won’t you?” Rarity asked gently. “Something slinky I assume.”
“Heh...” Rainbow Dash’s smile grew stiffer, and her chuckle faded. “Why uh...” She swallowed. “Slinky isn’t really um, me. Why would I want something like that?”
“Oh, Rainbow. There’s no need to be embarrassed!” Rarity tittered. “I know how bat ponies are.”
“What... do you mean?” Rainbow hesitated.
“Oh, come now,” Rarity cooed. “That athletic frame? Those exotic eyes? And such gentle wings. You’re quite the catch now, Rainbow. Not that you were unattractive before of course, but... well. It’s another league, isn’t it?”
“Oh!” Rainbow laughed again, twitching her wings. “That’s what you meant. I mean, yeah, I’m pretty hot.” She quickly lifted a hoof to buff her armor. “But uh... I don’t know if slinky is the way I want to go. I’m not really looking to uh... date. Right now.”
“Oh, come now. Let’s not be coy ,” Rarity said, holding a hoof before her mouth to hide her gentle laugh. “Flying around at night with those big fluffy ears, listening in on everypony’s ah... nighttime activities? ” Just a hint of blush came to her features. “Well, one can hardly blame them for what may follow.”
“Them? Wait, am I then? What may follow?” Rainbow Dash asked, her ears drooped, and she looked left to right around the brightening boutique. “No, like. I mean it. What is it that follows?”
“Oh, a lady couldn't possibly.” Rarity again covered her mouth with a hoof, but this time only for a moment. She soon returned it to the ground, and leaned in close. “But you know, it’s not like I use my bed during the day. And we are friends of course. So if you ever found yourself far from home and in need of... rest and recovery.” She smiled and pulled her head back. “Do know that I’m always there for you?”
“Woah... woah. Hold on!” Rainbow’s ears shot up. “I... I don’t think I like what I’m hearing here! I do not go around listening in on... nighttime activities .” She scrunched up her muzzle.
“Oh?” Rarity asked softly. “It was my understanding that bat ponies hearing was extremely keen.”
“Well, sure. I mean... I heard... some of that. Last night. Cheerilee and Big Mac are into some weird stuff.” Rainbow scowled as Rarity smirked. “But that doesn’t mean I was doing it on purpose!”
“I’m not accusing you of anything,” Rarity waved the matter aside. “Really, Rainbow Dash. I’m just being practical.”
“Yeah...” Rainbow said slowly. “Well, I’m gonna... head home then. Have a nice... um... day.”
Rainbow turned and hurried out, as Rarity waved her goodbye. As she flew back toward her house, Rainbow Dash hazarded a quick peek behind her. There in the distance, she saw Rarity still at the door. Only one thing had changed—she had gotten a set of binoculars.
Rainbow hurried home tucked herself in under her cloud blanket, and quickly shut her eyes. “Okay,” she says. “Day 2, could have gone better. But that’s just Rarity. She was always a little loopy. I’m sure Fluttershy will love it when she finds out this evening.”
She let out a breath. “Yeah,” she affirmed. “This is gonna go great.”
Princess Pile Drinking Games
Double Take, Changeling for Hire pt 4
This story continues to frustrate me. There's a lot of potential here, but I just can't find a version of Double Take I'm happy with.
Double Take
Professional Shapeshifter
Theater
Impressions
Roleplaying Events
Private sessions available on request.
Please note that due to recent political incidents regarding changelings and Equestria, discrete or confidential services are not available at this time. Any request to turn into a real pony, living or dead, shall be public to that pony or other reasonably interested parties.
I’m just about finished when the bell over the door rings. It’s Twilight, of course. Alicorns have such a potent scent I can smell her from a good three blocks away. It’s a distinctive smell too. Very rich. It’s quite handy to always have advance warning when she’s about to drop in. It gives me time to prepare and look my best. Or, in this case, to crush walnuts.
“Hello, Twilight.” I greet her without turning around, and I catch a flash of something in return. It’s the ballpark of anger, but not quite. “So good to see you again.” That’s what I mean when I say she’s rich. She’s complicated! Angry, yes. Frustrated. She doesn’t know how I did that, and it bothers her that she can never seem to get the drop on me. But , there’s more. Curiosity, just for starters. Some part of her is trying to figure it out, instead of just getting frustrated. Mistrust, and I’d guess she’s aware of the fact that I’m doing it on purpose to make a point.
“Well, I can’t say the same,” she replies. Snippy! “We need to talk. Now.”
“Of course, Princess. Please, make yourself comfortable.” I’m trying to picture it. Ears folded back, but only a few degrees, tail up, head forward. I take a breath. And there’s a glimmer there of something. Not respect, no. But she thinks I’m clever, and she respects cleverness. Which isn’t quite the same as respecting me , but I do appreciate it.
“Have you ever tried,” the last wallnut shatters in front of me, and I levitate the little pieces up toward the bowl, “ice cream and bourbon?” The little bit of garnish finishes things. “I’m given to understand it’s a treat in Equestria? Word of warning,” I give a deferential nod in her direction, even if I don’t quite turn around to do it, “this is the first time I’ve tried to make it, and the recipe was somewhat complicated. But I think it turned out well if you would like some.”
“Double Take, I’m not here to be your guest,” Twilight answers, her tone full of thinly veiled hostility. “Or do you fail to understand precisely how much trouble you’re in?”
“No, I understand completely. Assuming of course, you are here to discuss the matter of Lyra.” Two scoops, one in each bowl, and a spoon for each one. “But being a poor host will hardly make you less angry will it?”
I levitate the two bowls, and turn back to face her. She’s standing off on the far side of the room, next to the couch. There isn’t much to my home. It’s a bedroom, a small kitchen, and the front room where I work, which is itself nothing more than a cramped space containing a small desk and a purple couch I found used. Twilight is by the couch, but she isn’t sitting. I was spot on about how she looks, with that glare of hers.
“Besides,” I say, as I walk over her way. “I’ve been waiting for an excuse. Because this particular recipe, can only be enjoyed in the presence of others who are currently experiencing strong emotions. Which is rare you understand.”
I put her bowl on one side of the desk, mine on the other, and take a seat. She doesn't move but that’s fine. Her feelings haven’t changed, so I keep talking. Point right at her chest, lower my head. I’m not in a pony form right now, so I can’t emote properly, but little head motions do a lot. “It’s the alcohol .” I put a lot of breath behind the words, and really let the sound resonante out from my thorax. “You see, my body doesn’t process it the way yours does, and it’s not an emotion, so I can’t smell it. I have to infer it. Like a black hole.” I make a wide gesture with one leg, up towards the sky. “You can never look at it directly. You have to observe how it influences the things around it.”
“You’re crazy if you think I’m getting drunk in your presence,” Twilight replies, though she does at least take her seat opposite me.
“No! No, goodness no.” I buzz my wings a bit, shake my head, and settle back. “When I want to know what that’s like I just go to one of Ponyville’s many fine drinking establishments. I provide good conversation, help ponies home. It makes friends and it’s quite educational.” Ah, a little hint of surprise! It plays well with the rest. Moderates her anger a bit, though only for a moment. “No. I know what drunk feels like. And buzzed for that matter. Now I’m working my way down. That entire bowl of ice cream contains less than thimble of alcohol.”
“That’s not happening, Double Take,” she snaps. “Now quit stalling. You know why I’m here!”
“Perhaps you will change your mind later.” I shove both bowls off to the side of the desk. “Now. As you said. The matter of Lyra.”
“You turned into Bon Bon and slept with her.”
“At her request .” I lift a hoof, and sharply tap the desk twice. “That is a vital detail. Indeed, the detail that solely defines why this conversation is occurring here and so politely, instead of in a dungeon and rather more forcefully. I do imagine that had I slept with Lyra, or indeed anypony, while impersonating one of their loved ones, I would be having a far less pleasant day.”
She’s getting frustrated. That’s boring. I don’t like that. Anger suits her poorly. Drowns out her other feelings when she lets it. “It destroyed her relationship,” Twilight says, her tail flicking once to the left. “Destroyed. Worse, now the whole town knows. Half of the ponies of Ponyville think she’s a pervert who just has a shapeshifter fetish.”
“The disclaimer about privacy is right on the sign outside.” I gesture up to the door. “And if it helps, I can confirm that isn’t the case. Her feelings for Bon Bon are quite normal.”
“No it doesn’t help!” Twilight snaps, her wings flaring up by her sides as she glares. “I could have you arrested you know!”
“Indeed, you could.” I speak quickly. “She gave me money to lie down with her. That’s prostitution. Which I believe is still illegal, back from those days when the monarchy had much to say about who you could sleep with, when, and for what reasons. Though if you were to arrest me on the basis of those laws, you’d have to send Lyra to jail as well, which I don’t think you intend too. No. Far more likely you’d ah… well. Simply say that you’re a Princess and you dislike me. Isn’t that so?”
Princess Pile Drinking Games
This story was inspired by a recent trip to IKEA I had, along with a particularly notable entry in the SCP Foundation database. It had some real potential, but I just couldn't get the pacing to work, and after awhile I became increasingly frustrated with it. The "adorable horror" tone was interesting, but I couldn't find a way to keep the readers fully engaged. Worth posting, but if I rewrite it I'm probably going to start from scratch.
It was just past three in the afternoon when somepony knocked on the door of Ponyville Palace. It was a hard knock, loud enough that the sound echoed all the way through the palace’s crystal corridors. Twilight was up in her library, preparing to organize the year’s upcoming winter wrap-up. Her ears lifted when she heard the sound, and her head tilted slightly towards the door, but she did not move from where she sat.
“Spike, could you get the door?” she called, turning back to her work. There was no answer, and a few seconds later, the knock repeated. “Spike!?” Still, there was no answer, and when the knock came a third time, Twilight rose from her desk with a grumble. “Coming, coming.”
Exiting from the library’s door, Twilight found herself on the top floor of the castle’s main entrance hall. She vaulted over the railing, and spread her wings, easily drifting down to the ground floor below. The double doors ahead of her were huge, and wrought entirely of gold, but Twilight had little difficulty pulling them open with her magic. They swung outwards, letting the warm afternoon sunlight shine in, and revealing Ponyville below. “Hello?”
“Hello, ma’am. Are you Twilight Sparkle?” There were two stallions on her front step. Each was an uncommonly large pegasus pony, with a strength and build more like Big Mac’s than the typical light and agile pegasus. They were nearly identical, with the same square muzzle, wide ears, long wings, and mid-length mane. The only difference between them that Twilight could see was their coat color. One was blue, with yellow highlights on his wings, and a nondescript yellow oval for a cutie mark. The other was yellow, with blue highlights on his wings, and an equally nondescript blue oval for a cutie mark.
“Ma’am?” the blue-with-yellow one repeated, snapping Twilight out of her thoughts. Her eyes refocused on his face, instead of the odd duality of him and his partner. His ears were up—attentive, and perhaps a bit confused.
“Oh, uh... yes. Sorry. I’m Twilight Sparkle,” she nodded, taking a hesitant quarter step forward with a foreleg. “Can I help you?”
“We have a delivery.” The blue-with-yellow one gestured behind him with a forehoof, and Twilight noticed the cart at the base of the palace steps. It was a heavy sky-wagon, with a harness for two pegasi—presumably the two in front of her. Inside it was a single enormous crate nearly six feet on a side, braced into the wagon by a series of metal struts.
“Oh, uh... wow. Okay.” Twilight blinked, glancing between the huge object and the two delivery ponies. “What is it?”
“I just deliver the boxes, ma’am, but it should all be on the shipping invoice,” the blue one said. “Would you like it if we brought it inside for you?”
“Yes, please,” Twilight said, pulling the palace double-doors open the rest of the way to make room. The two delivery ponies returned to their skywagon, and with considerable effort, managed to hoist the crate onto their backs. One careful step at a time, they maneuvered it up through the entranceway and down onto the palace floor. It settled with a loud thump, the yellow one hissing in pain as it landed on the edge of his hoof.
“Are you okay?” Twilight asked, leaning around the crate to look at he winced.
“Oh, fine. Happens all the time,” he assured, flexing his ankle once before gently placing it on the ground. His voice was identical to the other pony, with the same pitch, intonations, and tone. Twilight leaned back, and narrowed her eyes slightly.
“Are you two—”
“Sign here, please,” the blue one said, presenting a clipboard to Twilight. She froze, momentarily caught off guard, but her eyes soon refocused on the other pony near her. She took the clipboard out of his teeth, and reviewed the form. Its text was tiny and dense, and it took Twilight some time to scan through it all.
“Isn’t this kind of excessive for an acknowledgement of receipt?” she asked as she neared the end of the form, confident she wasn’t agreeing to anything except that the package had come intact. The delivery pony shrugged, and after a few more moments of hesitation, Twilight signed the form. He took the clipboard back from her, tucking it under a leg.
“Alright,” he said, as his partner piled up a number of minor items beside the package. “There’s your shipping invoice, the associated documentation, and your complimentary crowbar for getting the box open. And I’m supposed to give this to you directly.” He gestured, as his partner quickly stepped up, adding one last item to the pile—a sealed envelope with Twilight’s name written on the front in cursive script. “And, that’s everything. Any questions?”
“Um... I guess not,” Twilight said. “Did you two just move to Ponyville or something?”
“We do deliveries all around,” the blue one said. “Have a nice day, ma’am.” He nodded, and then turned and left, his partner following suit. Twilight moved to the door, but didn’t shut it right away. Instead, she watched as they hitched themselves back up to their cart, spread their wings, and flew off into the distance.
“Weird...” she muttered, shutting the palace doors and turning back to the box. “Well, let’s see what’s inside I guess.”
Twilight’s horn glowed as she picked up the sealed envelope. A tight magical beam served as well as a letter opener, nearly cutting the top of the paper away. From within, Twilight drew a single folded sheet of paper, opening it to find more cursive writing inside.
“Your Royal Highness,” it began, eliciting a frown from Twilight as she read on.
“Let me begin by congratulating you on your recent coronation. While I regretfully could not attend the ceremony in person, I have followed your career with great interest. Your work in the field of Equine Studies has been tremendous, and I owe much of the recent progress I have made to your papers.
My name is Ingvar, and I am an entrepreneur from Wellhollow. As you may already be aware, my company will soon be opening one of our Kamprad Pony Emporium locations in Ponyville. We are very excited to finally be able to offer service to the greater Ponyville area, and look forward to offering you the same level of service we provide in our flagship Bywall and Bluehedge locations.
Given your definitive work in the field, as well as your deep involvement in the Ponyville community, I thought it only fitting to give you one of our top-of-the-line models as an opening gift. While it’s not quite up to the standard you’ve set in your own work, I hope you’ll agree it represents a vast leap forward in the commercial space. I hope that you take it as representative of the products and services my company hopes to provide to Ponyville, as well as the good we can do for your community.
I will be present for the Ponyville locations grand opening next month, and should you be able to find the time out of your busy schedule, would love to meet in person. Until then, please enjoy. Jargön is a particular favorite of mine—a fondness I hope you too may share.
Best wishes,
I.K.”
Twilight’s frown tightened, and she read the letter again. Her eyes froze over several passages, staring at them intently and studying every word. It was nearly a full minute before she lifted her head, and turned back to the palace. “Spike?” she called, and when there was no answer, she took a deeper breath: “SPIKE!”
A shout answered her, and moments later, a bleary-eyed Spike staggered out of his room and into the main hall. “Twilight? What is it? Is everything okay?” he asked from the high balcony. “Woah. What’s with the box?”
“Spike, Celestia hasn’t published any of my letters, has she?” Twilight asked, turning her head up to the high balcony.
“I don’t think so. I mean, we’d have heard about that, right?” he replied, rubbing at his eyes with the back of a claw.
“And have you ever heard of a town called Wellhollow, Bywall, or Bluehedge?” she asked, glancing back down at the letter, then to the box.
“No,” he shook his head. “I could go check a map though if you want.”
“Maybe later.” Twilight put the letter down, and turned to pick up the bundle of documentation. It came in some sort of wrapper—a transparent and thin but shockingly strong material that Twilight had never seen before. Tugging at it with her magic did nothing, and biting it did less. Her horn glowed, and she tried to slice it open with with her magic like she had the envelope, but the magical beam bounced off the packaging, and Twilight yelped as she ducked to avoid her own ray.
“Watch it!” Spike called, hurrying down the stairs. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, but this... whatever it is,” she gestured at the transparent container, “doesn’t seem to want to come open.”
“Here, let me try,” Spike said, taking it from her. He looked it over carefully, ignoring the heat from the melted blob down one side. “I think there’s a seam down the middle here. You just can’t see it because it’s clear.” Slowly, he worked a claw up the side of the container, and a layer of the clear material neatly parted from the rest. “There!” Spike said, pulling the papers from within and brushing the bits of melted plastic away.
“Oh, heh. Good thinking, Spike,” Twilight said, smiling at him as she took the bundle. Turning to face it, she saw the front cover—an oval with “Kamprad Pony Emporium” written inside in elegant writing. Below that, in much blockier text, was proclaimed: “JARGÖN: Assembly and Operation Instructions.”
“So, what’s with the box?” Spike asked, as Twilight started to flip through the bundle.
“I don’t know,” Twilight admitted. Her horn glowed as she flipped the pages quickly, scanning over the images before her. It was full of drawings of ponies, with their parts separated like an anatomical diagram. Dotted lines connected hooves to ankles, and heads to necks, while rows of littler pictures down the sides had drawings of bones and individual joints. “It’s really weird, actually. I think it’s supposed to be a gift? But it’s from somepony I’ve never heard of, and the note that came with it was... strange.”
“Well... want me to open it?” Spike asked, picking the crowbar up off the ground and tapping the side of the box.
“I should read the instructions first,” Twilight said, still flipping through the bundle.
“Twilight, that thing’s gotta be a hundred pages long,” Spike said, tapping the side of the box again. “Come on. Let’s at least take a look?”
“Well...” Twilight said, frowning at the incomprehensible diagrams. “Alright. Go ahead.”
“Right!” Spike whirled the crowbar in his hands, bringing the straight end up in a wide arc and slamming it into the side of the crate. His aim was good, and it dug into the wood right where one side of the box met the rest. A little jet of flame rolled out of his nostrils as he heaved, and the sound of splintering wood echoed off the hard crystal walls. Finally, with a loud snap, the side of the crate came free. It swung for a moment on a hoof’s worth of stubborn nails, before finally sliding off and to the side. A wave of packing material spilled out on top of it—a profusion of little “pillows” full of air, made from the same transparent material the papers had come in.
Beyond the packing material, exactly in the middle of the crate, there stood a pony. She was a unicorn, with a light tan coat and a darker mane, wearing a choker made from a light blue fabric. She was a few inches shorter than Twilight—about the same height Twilight had been as a unicorn—and had about the same build. Her face was softer than Twilight’s though, with a smaller muzzle and larger ears, which combined to make her look youthful and unthreatening. Her cutie mark was visible, but the imagery—a shield, heart, and ornate cup—did not immediately call anything to mind. She stood at attention, facing towards the front of the box, unblinkingly staring directly at the wooden barrier in front of her.
Then, she yawned, lifting a hoof to cover her mouth.
“Woah!” Spike shouted, his alarmed tone mirrored in Twilight’s wide eyes. They both took a step back as the pony in the box stretched, shaking her body vigorously to dislodge the remaining packing materials. “Twilight, there’s a pony in the box!”
“I can see that, Spike!” Twilight hissed, taking another step away as the pony in the box turned to face them. “Who are you?” Twilight demanded. “What are you doing in that crate?”
“Oh, hello!” the mare answered cheerfully, an excited little smile appearing on her face as she spotted Twilight. She lifted a leg to step out of the box, but paused when she glanced down and saw the nail-studded crate side beneath her. “Just one second...” Carefully, she reached a leg forward, stepping over the nails and out onto the box cover, moving again out onto the floor. “There! Sorry about that.” She turned back to Twilight. “To answer your question, I don’t have a name yet. But you can call me Jargön if you like! Are you Twilight Sparkle?”
“What do you mean, you don’t have a name? What were you doing in a crate!?” Twilight demanded, pointing sharply at the box.
Jargön followed her pointing hoof with her eyes, tilted her head, and shrugged. “Well, um... I mean that I haven’t been named yet. And, I was getting delivered, I assume. That’s what boxes are for, right?”
“Ponies do not come in boxes!” Twilight snapped.
“Well, this pony came in a box,” Jargön answered. Her enthusiastic smile had faded, but she still seemed upbeat, looking all around the palace entrance hall. “I’m sorry, I know I asked this earlier, but are you Twilight Sparkle? I’m a gift for her and I need to make sure I got delivered correctly.”
“I...” Twilight paused, and took a slow breath. “Yes, I’m Twilight Sparkle.”
“Oh, super!” Jargön said, taking a quick step forward and extending her hoof to Twilight. “Then, I’m your new pony! It’s a pleasure to meet you, Twilight. I hope that’s not too informal of me. For a princess I mean.”
“No, I prefer Twilight, it’s...” Twilight shook her head, and ignored Jargön’s proffered hoof. “Jargön. Whoever you are. Where did you come from?”
“From... the box?” Jargön asked, hesitantly lowering her hoof.
“No, I mean before that,” Twilight insisted. “Where are you from?”
“Oh!” Jargön nodded quickly. “The Kamprad Pony Emporium home warehouse in Bywall.”
“Bywall?” Twilight asked, and Jargön quickly nodded. “I’ve never heard of Bywall. Where is it?”
“Okay.” Jargön lifted a hoof, and made a low, sweeping gesture. “You know Highbrush? Start there, and then take the main coastal road south for about four hours. You can’t miss it. It’s actually a pretty big city these days!”
“I’ve never heard of Highbrush,” Twilight replied, shaking her head.
“Oh. Uh...” Jargön hesitated. “It’s the capital of Equestria?”
“I assure you it’s not,” Twilight replied, firmly. “In fact I’m pretty sure it’s not even a real town.”
“Um...” Jargön hesitated for several long seconds, a small frown appearing on her face. “I’m sorry, Twilight. I’m not saying you’re wrong, but I don’t know what else to tell you. That’s where I’m from.”
Twilight let out an angry snort, and gave a sharp flick of her tail: “And, what, they don’t give ponies names in Bywall? If this is some sort of prank, it’s not funny.”
“Twilight, I don’t know what I did to upset you, but I’m sorry,” Jargön said quietly, her voice wavering slightly as she held a hoof to her chest. “I mean, everything you need to know should be right there in my associated documentation. And, it’s not like I don’t have a name at all! My model name is Jargön, and you can keep calling me that if you like. It’s just, most owners rename their ponies. You know, so it’s personal.”
“You can’t own a pony,” Twilight insisted. Jargön gave her a blank stare, and after a few long seconds, Twilight let out a long breath. “Jargön, do you have anypony we can get in touch with? Family, friends?”
“Oh, well. I come with a five year service contract, so you can take me into any Kamprad Pony Emporium location for free maintance. Does that help?” she asked, lifting her tail and ears slightly as a note of hope entered her tone.
“That’s not what I mean, Jargön,” Twilight insisted. “I mean ponies who know you. Where are your parents?”
“Oh, I don’t have any parents,” Jargön answered. “I was made in a factory. I’ve never met anypony except for the technicians who did my quality control. Well, and you when you opened the box.” She paused. “I guess the ponies who assembled me are sort of like my parents. I don’t know their names though. Would you like me to go try to look them up?”
Twilight took in a long breath, and let it out again. “No,” she said, before turning to Spike. “Spike, take a letter to Celestia. Tell her there’s a mare here who arrived in a box and claims to be my property, and that I suspect she’s under some form of beguilement or mind control. Send her a copy of the letter that came with the box and ask her if she could have her guards look into the matter. Oh, and to be on the lookout for a pair of blue and yellow pegasus twins posing as delivery ponies.”
“You got it, Twilight!” Spike said, snapping a quick salute. He started to run towards the study, but paused as he came up alongside Jargön. “And, don’t you worry. You’re in good hooves now! Twilight will get this all sorted out.”
“Oh, uh... that’s good,” Jargön said, her jaw set askance as she scratched behind her head with one hoof. She watched as Spike ran off, calling after him, “It was nice to meet you!”
Once Spike was off, Twilight started in the same direction at a more measured pace, gesturing up the stairs towards the library. “Come with me. Mind control isn’t really my specialty, but I’m sure we have a counterspell somewhere he that can get you sorted out.”
“Um...” Jargön paused, and then hurried up the stairs after Twilight to walk alongside her. “I’m flattered by your concern, really, but I think there’s been some sort of misunderstanding. I’m not a prisoner. I’m your new pony? I clean, cook, organize, manage your schedule, dance, sing, provide intelligent conversation. You know, all that?”
“Jargön, even if I didn’t know that was the magic talking, slavery is illegal in Equestria,” Twilight said firmly, “to say nothing of being horrifyingly evil. You’re not some thing that went together in a factory and comes out of a box. You’re a pony who some despicable monster has brainwashed into thinking she’s a servant.”
There was a noticeable pause before Jargön answered, the two making it most of the way up the stairs. Even then she only managed an “Um...” and followed Twilight into the library. All around them, shelves stretched up for stories and stories, ending in a massive observatory dome overhead. “Well... I’m not really sure what to say to a lot of that. It’s clear you really care about doing the right thing, and that’s nice. I can really see why you’re a princess.”
She gently tapped a hoof on the ground, and bit her lip. “But—and again, I’m not saying your wrong, this is just what I know—I did get put together in a factory. Or, well, the assembly area beside the factory. Normally, I would be shipped in parts and you’d put me together yourself, but since I was a special delivery they assembled me on the factory floor.” She cleared her throat. “It’s actually quite simple for unicorns. Earth ponies and pegasi have it a little harder, but it’s still pretty easy as long as they have an allen wrench.”
“I’m sure you believe that,” Twilight said, pointing at a chair on the edge of the library, “but I really need you to sit down and let me try to fix this, please.”
“Well... you’re the boss,” Jargon said, walking to where Twilight indicated and sitting down. Her pose was uncomfortable however, and she fidgeted in place until she finally said, “But can I ask why you don’t believe me?”
“Because what you’re saying is ridiculous,” Twilight answered, firmly. “I know, if you’re under an enchantment, it’s probably messing with your judgement to make this all seem perfectly reasonable. But if you can, try to stop and think about it. Do ponies go together with an allen wrench?”
Jargön paused, looked at the ground, and swished her tail back and forth. Her ears folded back, and then she pushed them forward again, lifting her eyes to glance at Twilight. After a moment of silence, she lifted a leg, and lowered her head to look directly at her shoulder. Her horn glowed a pale blue, and from somewhere inside Jargön’s body, Twilight could hear a loud clicking sound, and the squeak of metal.
With a quiet click, Jargön’s foreleg separated from her body. Twilight leapt backwards two steps, staring with wide-eyes at the missing joint. She could see exposed bone, muscle, ligaments and more, but there was no blood. It was a clean break, like a medical cross-section of a pony’s shoulder joint. And yet, the flesh pulsed with life, the muscles sliding over each other as Jargon moved her body, and twitching when her heart beat.
Gently, Jargön placed her leg on the table beside her. “Well, this pony does.”
Princess Pile Drinking Games
Twilight and Rarity sat in the library, a magnifying glass floating in front of them as they slowly read through the instructions. Behind them, Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash lazed in their respective chairs, listening as Twilight narrated her progress.
“Okay,” she read slowly, scanning down the page through the magnifying lense, “this section seems to mostly be about her dietary requirements. It looks like a normal nutritional chart, except the names of the vitamins are all mixed up. They just have numbers. It says that orange juice is an excellent source of ‘Vitamin 7’ and that if it... if she detects a deficiency, she’ll automatically seek out the nearest source of citrus fruits.”
The first half of the instructions had proven useless. Labeled “Assembly,” it was little more than a breakdown of Jargön’s anatomy. At first, Twilight had been hopeful it might explain what she was, but a careful inspection of it had shown nothing out of the ordinary for a unicorn mare of her size, save that her flesh, bones, and organs apparently snapped together like children’s blocks. The second half of the document, the “Operation Instructions,” was potentially more promising, though it replaced the friendly diagrams with huge blocks of dense, tiny text.
“Oh goodness, there’s a paragraph about eating meat,” Rarity said, prompting a side-glance from Twilight. “There, at the end of the page. Two paragraphs down from where you are. It says she’s technically omnivorous but it will make her sick.”
“That’s true for most ponies,” Twilight said slowly, scanning to the end of the page. “I don’t know how you read this stuff without the glass.”
“So she’s probably not a zombie. Big whoop,” Rainbow grumbled, spreading out her forelegs as she lay sideways in her chair, her belly turned up towards the ceiling. “Get to the part where her freaking leg comes off.”
“I’m reading through this from beginning to end, Rainbow Dash. I don’t want to miss anything,” Twilight said firmly, turning the page in front of her and Rarity. “And, I’m not sure the instructions will explain that anyway. The way the first half was written, it seems to assume we basically already know how that works.”
“And that we own an allen wrench!” Pinkie Pie added quickly.
“Yeah, that’s actually the part that freaks me out the most,” Rainbow Dash said, rolling over in her chair. “Like, when she pulls her leg off. I can hear metal parts turning, but there’s no metal in her leg. And did you see the dumb look she gave me when I asked what the allen wrench was for? She looked like I’d just asked her how to open a door.”
“I think it’s clear that that’s magic,” Twilight answered, firmly. “Whatever spell lets her pull her limbs off and put them back on must produce the sound of turning screws. You know, like how my beam spells make a loud whine. It’s just a special effect.”
“Unless there actually are screws and she’s just the only one who can see them,” Pinkie Pie added brightly. In the long silence that followed, Rainbow Dash grimaced and rolled over in her chair, as Twilight and Rarity focused more intently on the page. Pinkie’s ears slowly folded back. “Um. I mean, it just came to mind.”
“Let’s... try not to think about it too much until we know more,” Twilight said quickly. “This section seems to be her... five year service contract? It says it covers injury, dismemberment, disease, traumatic stress...”
“Over here, on the next page,” Rarity pointed, already a page and a half ahead of Twilight. “It’s a features list. It has her vocal range. A list of skills.” Rarity’s eyes narrowed. “Broken down by category. She’s certified to act as an accountant. She can cut hair. I see a long list of cooking related skills. Goodness. It says she has the equivalent of four degrees?”
“Slow down, I’m not there yet,” Twilight said, swinging her magnifying glass down. “Literature, Mathematics, Philosophy, and Communications? But what’s a, ‘B.Q.’ degree?”
“I’m not sure,” Rarity admitted, “The entertainment section is confusing as well. I recognize some of this, but a lot of the names are—oh my goodness! ” Rarity’s hoof flew to her mouth, and her ears shot up on end.
“What? What is it?” Rainbow Dash asked, sitting up sharply in her chair. Pinkie Pie did the same, both watching as Twilight followed Rarity’s gaze to where she urgently pointed at the page.
“Entertainment...” Twilight read, eyes narrowed. “It has a bunch of sub-bullets. Dancing and singing and... oh wow.” Twilight swallowed, and licked her suddenly dry lips. “It says she’s memorized the Kama Sutra.”
“That’s messed up,” Rainbow Dash turned away scrunched her wings up against her side, her muzzle curling back. Even Pinkie Pie’s ears folded back, and she lowered her head to stare at the ground.
“There’s a footnote.” Twilight read aloud, “‘Kamprad Pony Emporium not responsible for the final quality or functionality of any ponies you may use your Jargön unit to produce.’” A weak half laughed escaped Twilight, and she turned to stare blankly at the bookshelves. “So she’s not sterile then.”
“I think that’s enough of this for now,” Rarity said firmly, inserting a bookmark into the instructions, and then shutting them. “Twilight, I think it’s become abundantly clear that whatever... creature did this to poor Jargön, is monstrously evil and must be stopped. Maybe we should focus our efforts there instead?”
“I don’t know what we can do, Rarity,” Twilight admitted, “Spike should be back soon, and even if he didn’t find anything, Celestia might know something. But until then... I don’t even know how we’d start to find it.”
“We could try questioning Jargön again?” Rarity suggested. “The poor dear is obviously very confused, but she might know more than she realizes. Maybe something that gives away a name, or a location?”
“Face it, Rarity,” Rainbow Dash snapped. “Whoever did this to her scrambled her brain. She thinks she’s from bizarro universe Equestria or something. She didn’t even know who Princess Celestia was!”
“Assuming they did this to her at all,” Twilight said. When the other three stared at her, she quickly added, “I mean, she’s a victim either way but... at this point, I think we have to at least consider the possibility that she actually was made in a factory. She may look like a pony, but I’m not convinced she actually is one.”
Slowly, Pinkie raised a hoof -- like a foal in class. She waited until Twilight looked her way before she asked, “But I can still throw her a welcome-to-Ponyville-party, right?”
“Right, Pinkie. As soon as she gets back if you like,” Twilight laughed, but paused suddenly, and looked to the door. “Wait, how long has she been gone?” Twilight glanced at the clock. “Fluttershy and Applejack took her to the bathroom forty minutes ago.”
“Something must have happened!” Rainbow shouted. At once, she was in the air, wings beating furiously beside her. “Let’s go see!”
With Rainbow at the head of the group, the four mares raced through Ponyville Palace to the end of the hall. The bathroom there was empty, as were the corridors around it. Rainbow furiously looked in every direction, zipping back and forth before returning to the other three. “They’re gone!” she shouted. “Okay, we need to split up. I’ll go search Ponyville. Twilight and Rarity can search the rest of the palace while—”
“Sorry, sorry!” Jargön’s voice carried up the hall, along with the sound of pounding hooves. She, Fluttershy, and Applejack came into sight around the bed, three large metal trays floating nearby. Jargön’s magic had a distinct yellow tint to it, sparkly but not quite golden. “Fluttershy and Applejack were giving me the tour and we got distracted. I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“Got distracted by what?” Rainbow demanded, narrowing her eyes as she spread her forehooves. “The whole reason we sent them with you was because we don’t trust you off on your own!”
“I know! I know! They were with me the whole time,” Jargön insisted. “I just felt bad that I was stressing everypony out so much. And Applejack was talking about the palace, and mentioned the troubles Twilight had moving in. That this place has a palace sized kitchen but she and Spike can’t cook so they don’t really know what to do with it? So I made food.” She floated the tray over towards Twilight and the others. “Sorry.”
Twilight and the others looked at the trays, each one covered in a near grid of bite-sized food, each topped with something different. “What...” Rarity spoke first, “are those, exactly?”
“Mini quiches, pecan-raisin micro-tarts, and cheese balls,” Jargön said quickly, her gaze lowered to the ground. “I wasn’t sure what you liked. And I know cheese balls aren’t really proper I was trying to make endives but the bag of nuts in the pantry had gone bad and I didn't’ realize until I was halfway through so I had to improvise. Sorry.”
“You made all that in forty minutes?” Pinkie Pie asked, staring and lifting a hoof to the side of her head.
“More like twenty,” Applejack said, finally stepping up from behind Jargön. “And most of that was waiting for them to come out of the oven. I ain’t never seen a pony work that fast in the kitchen. It was like Pinkie that one time we got sucked into Spike’s comics.”
“I cleaned everything up,” Jargön said quickly. “Spotless. I promise. You can check. Sorry.”
“Stop saying you’re sorry for everything,” Twilight said, gently lowering the trays. “This situation isn’t your fault. You don’t have to try to make it up to me.”
“Oh, I know, you said that,” Jargön said quickly. “It’s just, you don’t really seem to... want me.” She swallowed. “You know. Around. And I hate sitting still. There’s always something to do, right? I’m sure I can find some way to be useful.”
“Right,” Twilight said slowly. Jargön lifted the tray of party food slightly towards Twilight. Twilight pushed it back down. “Jargön, we’ve discussed this. It’s not that I don’t want you around. You seem... very capable. But I can’t own a pony . That’s slavery, and it’s wrong .” Just like before, Jargön answered Twilight with a blank stare. “Don’t you want anything for yourself?”
“Um...” Jargön bit her lip. “Well, I wanted you to like my baking. So, according to some philosophical schools of thought, that could fundamentally be characterized as a selfish impulse. So strictly speaking, in that framework, the only things I want are for myself.” She offered Twilight a stiff smile. “Does that count?”
Rainbow Dash grunted. “Not really.” Jargön’s tail drooped, and she looked off to one side.
“Heh,” Twilight gave a half-laugh, “That’s that B.Q. in Philosophy talking, right?”
“Oh, yeah,” Jargön nodded. “It’s supposed to help make me a more interesting conversationalist.”
“I think that it does,” Fluttershy said, stepping up alongside Jargön. “And don’t worry, Jargön. Twilight likes you. She just... likes you so much she’s having some trouble with it. Like, you know sometimes a pony gets a new toy, and they like it so much they’re terrified of scratching it? So worried about scratching it that having it around actually makes them more stressed?” Her tone was gentle, and soothing, and she rubbed Jargön’s shoulder. “Twilight’s like that right now. She likes you so much that she’s afraid of hurting you by mistake. She just needs a little time, okay?”
“I... I don’t...” Jargön glanced between Fluttershy and Twilight.
“Trust me,” Fluttershy cooed. “Give her a few days and a little distance and she’ll be fine. In fact, why don’t you go to the market with Applejack now? If food in Twilight’s pantry is going bad, she’s probably overdue for a grocery run.”
“Oh, um...” Jargön turned back to Twilight. “With your permission?”
“What? I mean... no!” Twilight shook her head. “Fluttershy, I’m not having her run my errands for me. We need to—”
“Twilight, send Jargön to the market to restock the pantry,” Fluttershy said, her tone suddenly firm as she met Twilight’s eyes. Her glare sharpened when Twilight hesitated, and she added, “Now please.”
“Um...” Twilight looked to Rarity, who nodded. “Okay. Jargön. Please run to the market with Applejack and restock the pantry. Applejack, the petty cash is in the box on top of my dresser.”
“I’ll go with them!” Pinkie Pie volunteered. “We can stop by Sugar Cube Corner. I wanna see this lightning fast baking mojo, and we can bring back some treats for Twilight.”
“Sure,” Applejack said, putting a leg around Jargön. “Come on, Sugarcube. Let’s go.”
“Um...” Jargön looked to AJ, and then back to Twilight. “Okay. If that’s what you want... Twilight.” She lowered the trays of food gently to the floor. “Um... sorry I upset you again. Um. Sorry.”
She turned and left with Pinkie Pie and Applejack. Twilight watched silently until the three of them left the palace, waiting for the distinctive bang of the front door shutting behind them. Then, she whirled, turning to Fluttershy. “Fluttershy, what the heck was that!?”
“That was me, trying to make her feel better,” Fluttershy answered. “You kind of messed it up a bit.”
“You told her I just needed time to get used to being her owner!” Twilight snapped. “Yes, I messed that up. I can’t believe you, Fluttershy!”
“For goodness sake, Twilight! She doesn’t understand!” Fluttershy snapped back, her wings parting from her body. “She doesn’t understand why you’d think slavery is wrong. She doesn’t understand where she is. All she knows is that making you happy is the most important thing in the world to her, and that she disgusts you.”
“Yeah, Fluttershy!” Rainbow snapped. “Because she is disgusting. She’s a tinker-toy pony.”
“That’s not her fault, Rainbow!” Fluttershy snapped, rising up into the air and fixing Rainbow with an angry glare. “She’s a good pony who's had something terrible done to her, and I don’t like it when you make that worse!”
“Woah, woah!” Rainbow lifted her hooves. “Sorry. I just... I wasn’t thinking.”
“No, you weren't thinking were you!?” Fluttershy yelled, leaning in close to emphasize her point.
“Fluttershy, dear!” Rarity called from below. “Please, calm down. This has been a disturbing and stressful day for us all. None of us are at our best. But please, you know Rainbow means well. We all do.”
Fluttershy took several long breaths, and then settled back down to the floor. She stomped a hoof once, and then turned away from the others, snorting as she glared at nothing in particular. It took a few moments before she could speak again. “I just...” she started angrily, only for her tone to deflate. “I just really hope there’s something we can do for her.”
“We all do, dear,” Rarity said, reaching a hoof up to rest it on Fluttershy’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get back to the library and talk about what to do next.”
“What do we do with the food?” Rainbow Dash asked, gesturing at the three trays that were still scattered on the hallway floor.
“Bring it, I suppose,” Twilight said. “If we leave it here, she’ll know we neglected it. I don’t think I could eat any though.”
“You might as well. It’s really good,” Fluttershy said, with a small shake of her head. “Suit yourself, though.”
It was about an hour later that the doors to the palace swung open. The ponies were still in the library, no closer to reaching any sort of conclusion. The snacks lay untouched, and the last few pages of the instructions had provided no insight into Jargön’s origins, save for a “return address,” in a fictional city. Their ears perked up at the sound of the door, and not long later, the quick pattering of little feet.
“Twilight!” Spike called. “I found something!”
“Spike!” Twilight sat up, rushing to the door to greet him. “You heard from Celestia?”
“Uh... no,” he admitted. “But Mayor Mare knew something! I asked about the store opening thing like you told me to, and she said that six months ago, a company called the Kamprad Pony Emporium sent a lawyer to Ponyville to buy some land on the edge of town and apply for building permit to put a store there.”
“What!?” Twilight immediately looked out the window towards the town hall. “Where?”
“That empty lot by the train station,” Spike said. “But, I checked on the way back. There’s nothing there. It’s just scrub like it always is. And the mayor said she hasn’t seen or heard from them since.” Spike paused. “She uh... she had the lawyer's name on the form.”
“Good!” Twilight said sharply. “Send a letter to Celestia with that information. And another one to Shining Armor directly. If any pony with that name shows their face in Equestria or in the Crystal Empire, I want them arrested . And...” She shook out her body. “And then we can run to the print shop. Put wanted posters of those delivery ponies up around town.”
“You don’t think you’re overreacting a bit, Twilight?” Spike asked, earning a sharp glare. “Okay, okay! Sorry. I’ll get going.”
As Spike ran off, Twilight stormed back into the room, huffing and puffing as she went. Silence followed her, until finally, Rainbow Dash spoke up. “You know there’s an easier way, right?” Everypony in the room looked to her, and with a sharp flick of a leg, Rainbow pointed down at the crumpled letter that had come with the box. “Wait for him to show up.”
Twilight paused, shook her head, and walked back to her reading desk without answering. “What?” Rainbow demanded. “We’re not even going to give that a try?”
“I’m certain we will try that, dear,” Rarity said slowly. “But I think what Twilight is trying to express is that... well.”
She glanced down at the note. “That whoever did this is someone we may not want to meet in person.”
Princess Pile Drinking Games
I loved Sassy Saddles as a character, and really wanted to see more of her as the antithesis to Rarity. I'll have a real fic to that effect up soon, but in the meanwhile, witness two old mares fighting for the love of one young, impressionable apprentice.
***
“Shhh. Shhhh, dear…” Rarity lifted a hoof to her apprentice’s shoulder, patting her gently. Deco was on the verge of either tears or a nervous breakdown, staring at the pile of cloth in front of her as she randomly flipped through it. “It’s alright. Take a breath.”
“It’s not alright,” Deco insisted. The fabric in front of her was a loose pile of semi-identical slips of fabric, all roughly the shape of an oval, differentiated only by the color. Some were light blue, some were dark blue, some were colors that had names like “cerulean” or “teal” or “sea swell,” but all were cut to the same specifications. “I knew that the dock flare would be a bit dark when I started. But I thought I could just tweak it. But then I made it lighter and it got even worse .”
Deco’s horn lit up, lifting a slip of Brandeis-Blue slip of fabric into the air. In front of her was a dressmakers frame in the shape of a pony, with a half-assembled gown hung over it’s white fabric frame. The dress was all in blues and greens, decorated with shells and other sea colors. Deco slipped the fabric over the frame’s dock, letting it flare up like it would over a tail. “Look!” she snapped, her throat going tight. “Look Just look! It’s like I took a crap over the rest of the fabric.”
“Language, Deco!” Rarity scrunched her muzzle, frowning like she’d eaten something distasteful. “Goodness! You are a lady. Not a sailor.”
“Sorry. Sorry.” Deco forced herself to take a breath. She a hoof up and dragged it over her face, then up and across her mane. “Sorry. I just meant to say, you know. I don’t think it’s really contest material. Like, rack store stuff? Sure.” She nodded quickly. “But I can’t possibly put that into a competition, much less Canterlot Fashion Week. Everypony knows I’m your apprentice. I’d bring shame on the store. I’ll…” She tapped her own cheer twice. Stared at the floor again. Nodded. “I’ll start over. If I sew quickly, I might be able to do something.”
“Like drive yourself into an entirely new nervous fit?” Rarity sighed, and a bit of a smile touched her face. “Deco? Dear? Look at me.”
Deco slowly lifted her head, tilting her eyes up to look at Rarity. They could hardly have been more different. Rarity was ever the pinnacle of fashion, with her snow-white coat and perfectly curled tail. Her royal-purple mane had gained a few grey streaks since her Ponyville days, and her face a few lines, but they only served to make her appear wise as well as vigorous. Deco, by contrast, looked like she’d gotten lost and wandered into the shop while looking for some sort of street event. Her clothes were utterly unbefitting a dressmaker: square steel earrings, hoof paint, and bulky cargo pants she’d stuffed full of her sewing supplies. She was garish, with an orange coat and a clashing mane and tail she dyed electric blue. She even kept her mane and tail short like a stallion, both of them were mussed and tangled.
“It’s not good, Rarity,” she insisted, flicking her eyes back to the floor.
“That color? No. Not so much,” Rarity agreed. “But you? You, my darling apprentice, are very good. And your dress? Tide Shift? This wonderful dress that you have made?” Rarity stepped up to Deco’s side, and turned her to face the stand. “It is good. And I won’t let a few last moment revisions stand between you and seeing it realized. Now I want you to shut your eyes…”
“And take a breath. Yeah yeah.” While she did not shut her eyes, she did take a breath and slowly let it out. Then she did it again, and ran a hoof back through her mane, making the short hairs spike upwards. When she next spoke, her voice was calmer. “It feels wrong. I don’t like it.”
“The backing needs to be darker,” Rarity said smoothly. “Like the ocean floor. A bit of contrast for the blue to stand out on.”
“No, that’s not it.” Deco tapped her off hoof in the ground three times in quick succession, narrowing her eyes as she stared at the dress.
“I didn’t mean a darker blue. I think you’ve used quite enough of that.” Rarity’s horn shone as she sorted through the pile, until finally she found the darkest scrap of fabric there. A small spell Twilight had taught her twisted its shade just so, down to a true black. Deco watched as Rarity slipped it in over the tail of the dress, letting the richer blues stand out over it.
“Mmm, that’s not quite right. Grey, perhaps?” Rarity glanced over at Deco, who quickly nodded.
“Yeah, grey. That’s… yeah.” She nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. That is better. Maybe a very slightly blue-grey so the contrast is less sharp but… no. The backing works. Particularly since the model could have a lighter coat.” Her tail flicked once, and she lowered her head. “Thank you. I needed that. I’m having all sorts of a day today.”
“It’s your first big fashion competition! Of course you’re in knots.” Rarity smiled, and after one last affirming nudge, lowered her hoof from Deco’s shoulder. “But don’t you worry. Tide Shift is some of your best work yet. There’s a very good chance you’ll be walking home with the prize, and even if not, I’ll make sure the right ponies notice your work.”
“Thanks…” Deco took a breath, then shook herself out, nose to tail. “Phew. I uh… I still feel tense. I actually think I’m going to take a break for a few minutes. Tea?”
“That would be lovely.” Rarity turned back to the shop as Deco trotted off, taking a few moments to open the window and air the room out a bit. The new Canterlot Boutique location was quite a bit larger than the old one, and with a much better view. As the city had grown, replacing alleys with wide roads and one-story structures with tall white towers, Rarity had been forced from her old locale. Rather than join the throngs of fashion shops in the city center, she’d decided to move up and out, to the edge of the city further up the mountainside. There she had fresh pine air, unobstructed sun, and when she opened her window, a flawless view of the city. It’s white towers shone, their golden caps sparkled, and in the center of it all she could still see the old palace.
The crash of breaking china sounded from the kitchen behind her. A frustrated snarl came shortly after. “Fucker!” Deco’s voice echoed. Then a moment later. “Sorry! Sorry. Don’t worry, it was just my old scratched up cup.”
“It’s ponyfeathers , dear! Ponyfeathers! Because we are civilized creatures who do not strip the paint off the walls at the slightest provocation.” Rarity gave a small sigh, but smiled and continued to look out over the city. The air was pleasant and cool, and it was a good way to pass the time as she waited for the tea to be done.
Then she heard a sound. A regular thumping, and under it, an equally steady swishing noise. They kept time with each other, beating so quick they formed a steady purr. Rarity’s ears picked up, and she stuck her head out the window. Her new neighborhood was full of traditional artisans, and the street’s usually held nothing but customers and the occasional wagon full of crafting supplies. But coming around the bend, she could see the source of the sound—an off-blue motor car, working its way up from the city.
“Mmph.” She frowned, and watched the large, close-roofed vehicle as it deftly navigated the crowds. The driver moved at a speed most would consider reckless, weaving around clumps of shoppers moving along the road. It was a luxurious vehicle, all polish and silver fittings. And it was headed directly for the end of the street. Rarity followed it with her eyes until it pulled so close the corner of her building cut off her view. She stepped away from the window, and moved to the foyer. She was on the second floor, looking down over the entrance from the top of the grand stair.
She didn’t have long to wait before the door opened, and a new pony pushed in. The little bell rang.
“I’m sorry, but we’re…” Rarity began, her voice trailing off into silence. She licked her lips. “We’re closed. I’m sure you can read the sign.”
“Yes, Rarity. I can read. Closed for Canterlot Fashion Week?” Sassy Saddles lifted her head to Rarity, observing her from below. Time had not been so kind to her as it had been to some. While her body was still strong and her trademark gold-and-black-cloth saddle still fitted her frame well, there were a number of discoloring spots in her coat, and her tail had grown thin. Her mane style was interesting, with the hair left to dramatically obscure the right side of her face, while her left ear was decorated with square steel earrings. But Rarity read enough gossip magazines to know it wasn’t an affectation. Rumor had it she was totally blind in her right eye, and that the hair was just a cover.
“Most designers are closed now.” Rarity leaned forward slightly to peer more closely at Sassy. Her head was turned slightly, so her left side faced Rarity. Outside, the car was still running, and the steady purr of its small steam engine drifted in through the open door. Rarity snorted and leaned back. “Not that you would know.”
“I actually know quite a few designers.” The door behind Sassy pushed open, and three more ponies walked in. Two of them were unicorns, one grey mare with a clipboard, and one green stallion with saddlebags full of pen and paper. The last was a pegasus stallion, white and brown dappled, carrying nothing. “But most of them are closed so they can be present at the events. You’ve been conspicuous in your absence. Getting ready for the last-day competition I would assume?”
“That’s none of your affair, now is it?” Rarity replied, narrowing her expression and sharpening her tone. “This is my boutique, and as I said, we’re closed. You have no business here, Sassy. I’m going to have to ask you and your flunkies to leave.”
The mare with the clipboard glowered at the pony who had just called her a flunky, but Sassy showed little change in expression. Her face stayed sharp, but neutral, keeping an eye on Rarity above. “It is your boutique,” she agreed, “and you are closed, but I do have business here. I had a lunch meeting scheduled with Deco today, and she did not appear. I’d like to know if there’s a problem, or if she needs to reschedule.”
Rarity narrowed her eyes at the pony below her. Turning her head without taking her eyes off Sassy, she called out into the back. “Deco! Could you come out here please?”
“Sure! Just a second!” Deco called back from the next room, the words shortly followed by the sound of her hoofbeats from the end of the hall. “Water’s boiled.” She nodded to Rarity when she came into view. “I put it to one side and…”
When she stepped out of the hall into the foyer, and her eyes met Sassy’s, she stopped so suddenly it was like she’d walked into an invisible wall. Her tail went down between her legs, her ears folded out to the side, and she stared straight down at the ponies below. “Uh…” she stammered. “Shit.”
“Horseapples,” corrected Rarity.
“Raving rick-rack,” corrected Sassy, in the same breath. The two spoke over each other, and briefly each glanced at the other. Then they went back to Deco. “You missed lunch and our interview. I do hope nothing is the matter.”
“Interview.” Rarity’s expression settled into something steady, her eyes lidding by a few degrees as she looked at her apprentice. Deco shifted from hoof to hoof, glancing rapidly between the two. “Oh, spit it out, dear.”
“Sassy, uh…” Deco shifted her jaw, then cleared her throat. “Asked to interview me for a designer job at her factory, starting after I finished my apprenticeship. We were going to get lunch, tour the facility. All that. I uh… well.” She looked down at Sassy below. “I’m sorry for not letting you know in advance, but on second thought, I’m going to have to decline. The big fashion competition made me realize… well. I’m trying to get taken seriously as a designer, you know? Build a name. Save up for my own store one day. I can’t be getting distracted from that goal.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that, Deco. You’re a very talented young designer. I was hoping I’d at least have the opportunity to try and persuade you.” Sassy nudged her muzzle up towards the second-story archway. “You’re working on your entry now?”
“Uh… yes,” Deco nodded quickly. “It’s pretty much done, but, you know. Some last moment touches.”
“That’s good. Back in the day, Rarity always put everything off to the last second. It would turn into such a production. Fussing over the colors and the lighting.” Sassy’s tone was warm, but she didn’t smile, and neither did Rarity. “She did her best work that way though. Would you mind if I took a look?”
“You have your own entries in the competition,” Rarity cut in, with sharp words. “It would be highly inappropriate for you to get a sneak peek at the competition.”
“Paisley and poplin, Rarity.” Sassy brushed away the comment with a hoof. “The competition is for young ponies. Besides, I’m no designer.”
“Neither are the hacks you employ, but that doesn’t stop them from entering on your behalf every year.” Sassy showned little reaction to Rarity’s comment, but the mare with the clipboard glared up all the more intensely, and the other two began to glare as well. “I’m sure with a few dozen entries, at least one of them will have managed to rip off somepony with genuine talent.”
“Rarity!” Deco sucked in a breath, looking quickly between Rarity and Sassy. “Sassy, I’m sorry I… Rarity doesn’t mean that.” She paused to make eye contact with Sassy’s three tag-alongs. “Sorry. To you too. Yes,” she looked back to Sassy, “you can see my dress if you’d like. But my answer is still no.”
“I’m sure Rarity is just getting into the spirit of the competition.” Sassy smiled a thin smile as she walked up the stairs, her followers not far behind. “No offense taken. This is Flash Recall,” she indicated the pegasus, “Mail Call, and Fine Print,” her hoof moved to the unicorn mare and stallion. “Everypony, this is Deco.”
Each of them muttered or mumbled a greeting. Flash Recall shooks hooves with her. “Uh… a pleasure,” Deco nodded. “This way then.”
It was only a few steps back into the design room. Tide Shift sat just where they’d left it, surrounded by work tables, bolts of fabric, and other dress templates with bits of fabric hanging off them in various stages of completion. “This is it,” Deco said, taking a few quick steps to get ahead of the group. “It’s called Tide Shift . Inspired by this trip to the beach I took a few months ago. The style is the interesting part for me.” Sassy walked right past the stand without stopping, looking at the other work tables in the room. Her followers waited by the door. “It’s an update to the uh… the old stirrup dress design. I made it lighter and um…”
Sassy waited until Deco had trailed off. “This is all your work?” she clarified, not looking up from the bench of designs she was examining
“Yes,” she nodded. “Rarity’s workshop is across the house.”
“So you’ve sewn every single item of clothing in this room yourself?” Sassy asked. Her one good eye made contact with Deco’s gaze, and held it for just a hair too long. “Except for my saddle.”
Deco stood stiff, and it took her a moment to nod. “Except for your saddle,” she agreed.
“It’s very good work.” Sassy smiled, turning back to the shelves and hangers at the edge of the room. Rarity glowered at her back. “It really is a shame I can’t persuade you to at least consider my offer.”
“Like I said, I’m planning on opening my own shop.” Deco forcefully shrugged. She glanced back at her teacher. “Like Rarity. I need to build some credibility for that.”
“Have you sold anything yet?” Sassy asked. Deco shook her head. “No, of course not. You’re still apprenticed. It’s a big hurdle.” Deco nodded again. “Would you like to change that? I think a few of the items here are useable.” Before Deco could object, Sassy made a wide gesture around the room. “I’ll give you fifty thousand bits for the exclusive manufacturing and licensing rights to any one outfit in this room. Except Tide Shift of course. That actually would be cheating.”
“Fifty…” A choking sound emerged from inside Deco’s throat. “What?” Rarity wore her own shock less openly, but it was there to see, mixed in with a guarded suspicion.
“Bobbins and bodkins, mare. Breathe.” Sassy tittered. “Blushing doesn’t go well with your coat color.”
“Fifty thousand is…” Deco forced herself to swallow, then take a breath. “That’s kind of a large bribe just to get me to interview, isn’t it?”
“It’s not a bribe, it’s a purchase. Fair price.” She nodded her head to Deco. “I buy dress designs all the time, and that is how much I pay for something I think is brilliant. A truly good design can easily earn fifty times that much in a year.”
“Which dress do you want?” Deco looked quickly over her old designs. Sassy shook her head.
“Mmmm. I’ll pick later,” she waved the matter off. “Fifty thousand for any one outfit you’ve made, except for Tide Shift.”
“Except for Tide Shift.” Deco’s whole body was stock stiff, and her head jerked sharply as she nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Deal. I mean, that’s enough to start my own shop, I’d have to be fucking thick right? No. Um.” She turned back to Rarity. “What do you think I should do?”
Rarity gave Deco a stern look, and her tail swished sharply. But she paused a moment before she answered, and in that brief pause, visibly calmed herself. “Deco, dear, you’re a grown mare,” she spoke without the edge she had possessed a moment ago. “You hardly need me to tell you what to do. And while I may find the mare offering you money distasteful, that… is a very generous offer for one of your practice dresses. Just be careful. Money is a means to let you express your creativity. Don’t let it become your end.”
“I know. I understand. I uh…” Deco paused, shifting her jaw. She nodded. Then she nodded again. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m in.”
“Wonderful. Fine Print?” Sassy gestured. The stallion stepped forward, and produced a set of pre-prepared paperwork. He spent a moment filling in the little blanks where the designers name went and the amount they were being paid, and then Deco spent a moment signing her name to all the dotted lines. Fine Print wrote the check as well, handing it off to Deco.
She took it like it would explode holding it perfectly still in the air in front of her. “Wow,” she managed, staring at the writing. “I uh… wow.” A wide smile appeared on her face, and she abruptly hugged the paper against her chest. “Uh…” She looked around the room, still smiling, and reached up to push her mane back. “Heh. I kind of want to go cash this right now.”
“You’ll need a ride to the bank.” Sassy gestured to the door. “If you’d like, we could even stop for lunch on the way.”
“Uh…” Deco looked back to her teacher. “I… Rarity needs me to get some work done this afternoon.”
“Flights and fancy! Rarity’s invited. She can be our chaperone.” Sassy chuckled at the idea. “To make sure I’m not corrupting your innocent young head. Isn’t that right? Besides. Rarity hasn’t seen the new factory. Perhaps it will make a good impression. Maybe we can even mend some fences. Talk about the old days.”
“If…” Deco trailed off, staring at Rarity. “I mean, I am still your apprentice. You can say no.”
“You’re not a bird in a cage, dear. Besides, I suppose bribery is the highest form of flattery, in her case.” Rarity let out a sharp sigh. “Let’s go then.”
Nopony spoke much during the walk to the car. The steam engine was still running, letting out its soft purr and a small cloud of steam behind the vehicle. The back was roomy, pull of plush, inward-facing couches that left plenty of room for everypony to stretch out. The driver was still waiting in the front, and once they were all settled in, the vehicle rolled away. Mail Call made small talk with Deco for most of the way, chatting about the city and the other fashion events and some new band called Princess Buzzkill.
“You see that? The bridge there, with the decorative work integrated into the iron?” Sassy said to Rarity about halfway through the trip, keeping her voice low so as not to interrupt the two gossiping young mares. Around them, the new towers and bridges of Canterlot slid past as the motor car made its way up the smooth streets. Where once there had been single-story structures as old as Equestria, there were now elegant arches, huge multiple-story markets, monolithic white towers, and bridges of finely wrought steel, all of them capped with Canterlot’s signature gold.
Rarity’s first reaction was not to follow Sassy’s pointing off, but to look at the mare herself. Her head was twisted around to an uncomfortable angle, so that her left eye instead of her right faced the exterior of the car. Rarity watched her like that for a moment, before turning back to the glass and spotting the bridge in question. “What about it?”
“One of my designers made it.” She returned her hoof to the seat, and moved her head to look at Rarity normally. “The decorative work that is. He quit about three years ago to go back to school and study architecture.”
“It’s quite good,” she agreed. “I can see why he left.”
Rarity and Sassy spent the rest of the ride in silence. It wasn’t too long a ride. The motorcar made good time through Canterlot’s streets, as the driver wove among carts, pedestrians, and railcars. Once in awhile, they’d pass under one of the bridges or elevated rails, and a train would clatter past, leaving a trail of steam in its wake. The steam always smelled a little minty fresh, but that was unicorn magic. Soon, they were at the opposite edge of the city, pulling up to a nondescript white building next to a private railyard. A sliding metal door in the side swung open for them, and let them drive straight in.
“I think this is worse than the old one,” Rarity said, watching through the window as the car came to a stop. The door opened and all the ponies inside piled out, starting with Deco, then the assistants.
“It’s cleaner. It’s brighter.” Sassy pointed out, scooting along her seat to the door. “There’s plenty of sunlight and good ventilation. We shortened the shifts to six hours so everypony can stay alert.”
“Well, put that way, I guess killing designers hopes and dreams is marginally better than killing your employees.” Rarity slid out of the car, her hooves making a distinctive click on the concrete. In front of them was a single, massive, unbroken stone floor stretching off into the distance. Rows and rows of work benches filled the space, arrayed along a dozen assembly lines that snaked through the facility. Massive clocks along the walls kept the time, as the slowly moving belt brought dress stands from station to station. At each station, a young unicorn or a diamond dog could be seen, drawing from a box of identical fabric scraps to add their singular piece to the final creation. The floor was white stone, and the area was clean. So clean it seemed empty, despite how crowded it was.
Rarity tilted her head up, and above it all, she could see a series of glass-walled rooms hanging from the ceiling. The glass was tilted out, to give a “command view” of the floor below, and a number of drafting tables and fabric boards could be faintly seen.
“That’s the designers area. And where we’re going,” Sassy said, following Rarity’s gaze. “This way.”
Princess Pile Drinking Games
This story was attempt to say something profound about identity, based on a conversation with Pav. It isn't bad, but it didn't work out quite how I wanted. The hook was very strong, which I enjoyed, but... I don't know. It somehow never seemed to quite click in the end.
***
Fluttershy was sometimes given to wonder if two wrongs could make a right. Of course, she would never admit her doubts. Such questions, safe in silence, became dangerous when spoken aloud. But there were times she noticed that the arc of the world was not so simple as Celestia and Harmony might portray it. Like today. For surely it was wrong, upon hearing her friend romantically engaged, to sneak a peak in Rainbow's window. It was a gross violation of her privacy. And yet, the things Twilight and her had seen.
The upraised wings. The flushed features. The tail, lifted in the throes of passion. The eyes clenched shut, and the blissful smile that spoke of joy without words. Long legs, and graceful feathers, and flanks, adorned by a bright star, surrounded by five others.
And here Rainbow sat in Twilight's library, crying as earnestly as she ever had, begging her friend's forgiveness. Fluttershy wasn't sure what to think of that.
"No, Rainbow! You're not sorry! You're sorry you got caught!" Twilight bellowed, her rapid steps carrying her all over the library. Her wings were aroused, but not with ardor, and it wasn't lust that kept her features flush. "I can't believe you, Rainbow. I can't believe you. I trusted you! "
The other Twilight had no opinion of the conversation. She didn't seem to have an opinion about much of anything, when not specifically animated by some magical command. She just stood in the corner, staring straight ahead, still as a statue. Though she was physically indistinguishable from Twilight, Fluttershy had no thoughts of difficulty distinguishing the two. Even when awoken, they did not act the same.
"I know, I know. I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Twilight." Rainbow's voice was broken by little gasps and sobs, as the tears ran down her face. "Please don't stop being my friend."
"Oh, so we're friends ." Twilight curled back her lip, and lashed her tail. "That's the way you'd describe our relationship, is it?"
"Twilight, that's enough." Fluttershy stepped up behind Rainbow Dash, and lowered her head to nuzzle behind Rainbow Dash's ears. "You have every right to be upset. And to punish her, if you see fit. But this is becoming cruel."
"Cruel? This is cruel?" Twilight sucked in a sharp breath, and her eyes narrowed. "After what she did to me, all I do is yell at her, and you think I'm cruel? I'll show you cruel you dumb-!"
Twilight's horn lowered, and Fluttershy quickly shielded Rainbow Dash with a wing. Across the library, she stared down Twilight, as Twilight drew her breath in quick, angry gasps. Twilight's breaths grew sharper with each repetition, her eyes wider, until finally she let out not a word, but a scream. Her head turned sharply to the left, and a blast from her horn shattered one of the spare tables into a thousand pieces.
Rainbow and Fluttershy said nothing, as Twilight proceeded to smash the remains of the table until they were nothing but toothpicks, and her breath was ragged. She sat there in the corner, staring at the wall, until her panting subsided and she was able to breathe once more.
"I'm sorry, Twilight," Rainbow said, her voice so soft it was almost a whisper. "Of course I want to be your friend. You're the best friend a pony could ask for. That should have been good enough." She let out a loud sniffle. "No. It was good enough. It was great. But I was greedy. And... and I broke it."
Twilight didn't answer right away. She leaned her head forward, until the tip of her horn brushed the wall, and held her position there for several long breaths. Her ears were folded nearly all the way back, and her wings out and loose, but gradually she forced her body back to a more steady pose. Her ears lifted with her head, and her wings returned to her side.
"Tell me where you got it," she finally said.
"A little magical curios shop in Trottingham. Baubles and Bangles . I was hitting the town when I was out there with the weather team, and I walked in and..." Rainbow Dash trailed off, and turned her head away, her gaze resting on the ground beneath her. "I saw it."
"Fine." Twilight's words were sharp, and she still didn't turn around, her eyes fixed on the wall. "Go home. I'll let you know when I decide if we're still friends." When Rainbow failed to move, Twilight turned her head, just in time to catch Rainbow's rising gaze. Their eyes met across the library. "I said get out."
Rainbow's eyes filled with fresh tears. She rose, turned, and fled the library.
The door slammed behind her, and for a time, all was quiet. In the wake of her departure, Twilight snapped: "You want to go comfort her, you can go ahead after her."
"I..." Fluttershy swallowed, her ears and jaw pulling back a few degrees. "I do want to go comfort her. But I also want to comfort you. And... and to make sure. Um." She took a breath. "That you're okay, Twilight. This is the angriest I've ever seen you. And it's frightening."
Fluttershy opened her jaw, then shut it again. "I really thought you were going to hurt Rainbow. I thought..."
Fluttershy trailed off, and looked away to the side. Twilight did the same, neither pony willing to meet the other's eyes.
"I wasn't going to hurt..." Twilight began, her voice quieter. "I'm not going to hurt Rainbow."
"That's good," Fluttershy said, her own voice sinking as well, until she was mumbling and barely audible. "Because... you know. You have a lot of power, Twilight. And sometimes it's... that is..."
"I know. I know." Twilight lifted a hoof to rub her face. "I'm sorry, Fluttershy."
Fluttershy didn't answer right away. When she did, it was only to ask: "Are you going to Trottingham?"
"Yes." Twilight glanced up at the clock. "Yeah, I am. I'll catch the early morning train."
"I... um. I think I should go with you. You could use the support. And... yeah." When Twilight didn't object, Fluttershy continued. "You should go write Princess Cadence. Or your brother. Or somepony you can vent too. And... try to get some sleep. I'm going to get rid of the... golem. And go take care of Rainbow. And I'll meet you here in the morning. Okay?"
After a moment of silence, Fluttershy repeated: "Okay, Twilight?"
"Maybe. I don't know." Twilight's wings fluffed outwards. "How are you going to get rid of it?"
"The rock grinder at the quarry. It's just made of dirt and stone, right?" After Twilight nodded, Fluttershy went on. "Then that will be fine. I'll see you here in the morning, Twilight?"
Finally, reluctantly, Twilight nodded. "Okay. I'm going to... I don't know. Go write Cadence. Or something." She turned and marched upstairs, leaving Fluttershy alone downstairs.
Fluttershy watched Twilight until she was lost to sight, then listened until her hoofbeats faded away. Only once the library was completely silent did she step up towards the other Twilight. She stood there, as still as she had been an hour ago, her eyes unblinkingly fixed on the middle of the room. Lifting a wing, Fluttershy brushed her side, and exalted the gentlest touch of pegasus magic through the tips of her feathers.
The other Twilight blinked.
"Hey there, beautiful," she spoke with Twilight's voice, taking a half-step forward, until her nose just barely touched Fluttershy's. Her breath was hot, and curled along Fluttershy's cheeks. "I missed you today."
"It would be sexy," Fluttershy said, without intonation, "if you followed me to the quarry, silently, without drawing any attention to yourself, then threw yourself into the rock grinder."
"Oooh, kinky." The other Twilight giggled. "But if that's what you want." She took a half-step to the left, so she was following Fluttershy by the tail. They she stopped, and stared straight ahead, waiting for Fluttershy to move.
Fluttershy took a half step to the left. The other Twilight did as well. She took a half step to the right, and that action too was mirrored. She watched the golem behind her, studying its face for a few long seconds.
Then, Fluttershy left, and the golem left with her.
***
The merchant, Fixer, was pleased to see them. Pleased to see Twilight. He'd never had a Princess in his shop. There was no concern in his expression when he welcomed them inside at first opening, save a mild surprise at the early hour. A trace of hesitance showed when Twilight ignored his questions and asked after his golem stocks, but he lead her into the back of the shop just the same. The golems were up on the second floor, in a little display room all their own. Posed on chairs with little dime-store novels, like they were reading.
There were five, in total: one Princess Twilight, one Princess Celestia, one Spitfire, one Prince Blueblood, and one Prince Luna who was posed with a smirk that made it clear he enjoyed being a shapeshifter.Very clear.
"Well, here we go, your Highness." Fixer stepped to the left to clear Twilight's view as she entered, and bowed to her again once more for good measure. "I'd like to think it does you justice."
Princess Pile Drinking Games
A short I did for a writeoff, about our very favorite pony princess. Prompt: "Best Laid Plans." It wasn't long enough to be is own thing, but I still quite enjoyed it.
“Um… excuse me? Twilight?” Rarity called out into the halls of the Crystal Palace, taking slow and timid steps forward as she looked for her friend. Twilight was not far, seated at reading desk, and she quickly looked up.
“Oh! Hello, Rarity,” she said, closing her book. When she looked up, she saw that Rarity was not there alone, but that all her other friends were behind her, hiding under the library archway with Rarity in front. “Uh… and everypony else. What brings you all here so late?”
“Twilight…” Rarity look a deep breath to steady herself. “The others have all nominated me to ask a question on our behalf. One we’d very much appreciate it if you could answer directly.”
Twilight sat up straight at her desk, her wings tightening against her side as she saw how serious her friends looked. “Yes, of course. Of course I’ll answer any question you have.” She swallowed, and looked between the nervous ponies under the arch. “What’s wrong?”
“Well…” Rarity said. “You recall when you first came to Ponyville. That Princess Celestia gave you a seemingly innocuous task that somehow, precisely, resulted in you doing what she needed you do and defeating Nightmare Moon.”
“Yes…” Twilight nodded slowly.
“And now you’re a princess,” Rarity continued.
“That’s right. Wings and all,” Twilight agreed, her tone still cautious as she waited to see where this was going.
“Specifically, you became a Princess when you realized you could manipulate the destinies of others,” Rarity continued, “and since then, you’ve been sending us on little innocuous tasks. Like when you invited Trenderhoof to see Ponyville. Or when you—a powerful wizard—failed to notice that Spike’s comic book was magic. Or like that time you told Applejack to take the cutie mark crusaders to the rodeo. Or when you sent Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash to Griffonstone, but insisted they couldn't take anypony who could have actually saved the idol.”
“Rarity, what are you saying?” Twilight asked, holding her hoof over her chest. “Those were all accidents!”
“Yes, dear. Yes, of course. But accidents seem to happen an awful lot around you and Celestia. Now, we’re not upset, but we do need to ask…” Rarity took a long breath, let it out, and locked eyes with her friend. “Are you using your Princess magic to manipulate us into going on magical friendship adventures?”
“Ugh…” Twilight looked down, and flicked her tail left and right. “No. I don’t know how you could possibly… think that! I would never…”
“Oh my gosh, she’s lying!” Pinkie Pie shouted. “This is what lying Twilight looks like. It’s true. It’s all true! Free will is an illusion!”
“I knew it!” Applejack stomped her hoof hard on the crystal floor. “That’s why so many of our adventures just so happen to end with one of us picking up your groceries!”
“No, no!” Twilight quickly stood from her chair, walking over to her friends. “It’s not like that, everypony. It’s not like I have some master plan and you’re all just running along it. I can nudge things a little, but that’s all.”
“Dear…” Rarity drew her lips into a line. “That seems like a rather fine distinction…”
“No, here, I can prove it,” Twilight said, turning back to her reading desk. “Oh, Rarity, hand me that red book on the shelf over there would you?”
“And that’s how we defeated the book demon, saved Ponyville, and learned that just because Twilight has a few powers we don’t, doesn’t make her any less our friend,” Fluttershy dictated. All the friends sat in a circle, with Spike in the middle, his quill working rapidly as he took dictation.
“Awww, thank you, Fluttershy!” Twilight beamed, rising to spread her wings. “Group hug, everypony?”
“Group hug!” Pinkie Pie shouted, and all the friends piled in around each other. “Aww, it feels like friendship!”
“You’re all the best, you know that?” Twilight said, her voice warm and friendly. “The best friends a pony could ask for.”
“Aww, shucks, Twi,” Applejack said. “We know that.” After a moment she added, “Oh, by the way, I picked up your groceries on the way back.”
“That’s great,” Twilight said, giving the group hug one last squeeze. “Just put them over there.”
“Sure thing, Twi.” Applejack laughed. “Good to be a Princess, huh?”
“Aww, it’s not that different.” Twilight smiled. “Although, while we’re on the topic, how would you feel if I started calling you all ‘my little ponies?’”
Princess Pile Drinking Games
The Wizard and The Chalkboard
Written for a Writeoff short fic event. Posted thanks to psychomotorboat, who reminded me that it existed.
Once, there was a powerful unicorn named Twilight Sparkle, who valued planning and organization above all things. Determined to become enlightened in the ways of the world, she forged a mighty artifact out of crystal, wood, stone and wax. It was a small portable chalkboard, of the type she often used to solve simple math problems or plan out her day, but her magic granted it special properties. When the chalkboard was held aloft, and a problem was spoken aloud, it would display a flawless, fully detailed plan for how a solution might be implemented.
“Alright, Chalkboard,” Twilight proclaimed when her creation was done. “Tell me—how shall I determine if you are working properly?”
A moment passed, before flowing script began to appear on the board, and under it, a neat grid of lines: “Asses effectiveness of magical artifact though testing on statistically significant number of sample problems. Apply frequentist statistical methods to interpret outcome.”
Pleased with this answer, Twilight set about doing just that. First she asked it how to reorganize all the books in her library, then how to most efficiently straighten the kitchen. Then she asked how to reformat her study guide for the next week, and how to fill in the study guide without all the colored markers making her dizzy. She was still working on this task, when the patter of little feet on the floor behind her made her turn.
“Twilight, Twilight!” called Spike, fast approaching behind her. “I finished my nap. I’m bored. Is Moondancer going to come by later? Can I go out with you if the does? Can you get me some ice cream before she gets here? Can you? Can you?”
Twilight was not an unkind caretaker, but she was very much in the middle of something, and wished to be left alone. And so she lifted her board so it was visible only to her, and looking directly at him, asked, “Tell me—how shall I make a little dragon be quiet while I work?”
“Inform child he is old enough to get his own ice cream. Praise his maturity,” appeared written on the tablet. Twilight nodded, did as it instructed, and Spike scampered off energetically. Pleased with the results, Twilight returned to work, but it was not long before she was interrupted again. This time, it was by the palace gardener, working outside her window.
“Inform gardener that Princess Celestia was very displeased with her work, and that she should go home early,” the tablet said, and the gardener left. Later, Shining Armor came by to visit, but he could not stay long, as he had to return to his barracks before dark.
“Forge letter from soldier's commanding officer retroactively approving his leave. Use dragon’s magic to falsify letter delivery via magical post,” the tablet said, and Shining Armor stayed to play all afternoon, as well as being very impressed with Twilight’s new creation. Later, the tablet solved the problems of her not wanting to exercise, of it being a long way to the main palace library, and of her heater being broken, among numerous other difficulties.
The sun had just set when Spike stumbled out of the kitchen, empty ice-cream tub in hand, and threw up on Shining Armor. From that sprang forth a series of events involving a sick dragon, a furious drill sergeant, a rocket-powered bicycle, a significant boiler fire, and a wailing gardener who had gone all the way to the Princess that her children needed to eat and so she couldn't be fired. Twilight ended the evening sitting on her front step, a fire-blanket put over her shoulders as the pegasus ponies extinguished her library.
“I’m sorry, Princess,” she said. “I really thought I did the magic right. I did.”
Princess Celestia gently took the tablet from her student, held it up in the air in front of Twilight, and said: “Tell me—how shall Twilight best learn and grow as a pony from these unfortunate events?”
“Realize that knowing to ask the right questions is often more important than having the answers,” the chalkboard displayed. “Accept that not all problems have simple and convenient solutions and that there is a difference between having a plan and true wisdom. Discard chalkboard.”
Twilight stared at the answer, unsure what to make of it. As she did, Celestia smiled, and leaning down, nuzzled her student between the ears. “I think you did just fine, Twilight,” she said.
It was by this means that Twilight became enlightened.
Princess Pile Drinking Games
Sometimes, I give pony stories as gifts. Any topic my friends like for twenty-thousand words. And if you're thinking 'that sounds like a huge mistake,' you'd be correct! Because every year, my so-called friend inevitably give me prompts that drive me spare. In this case, Cold in Gardez asked for a Thunderlane/Twilight shipping fic, focused on the theme of accidental marriage. It looks like it'll be out mid-February, but in the meanwhile, have some rejected chapters!
Later, with the full benefit of hindsight, Twilight would admit there were warning signs she might have heeded—subtle indications that all was not quite as it seemed. She might have paid more attention to the fact that Thunderlane was in his full uniform, and had properly groomed his normally messy mane. She might have noticed the long, curious looks he gave her in the minutes leading up to their meeting, or how many pegasi from the weather team wanted to stick around to watch until Thunderlane shooed them away. She might have noticed how nervous he was and asked more directly why it was he wanted to speak with her. But she did not do any of these things. She didn’t know Thunderlane that well, after all.
Eventually, the other pegasi from the weather team left Twilight’s palace, and she and Thunderlane were alone. Twilight didn’t turn to him right away, but busied herself with the notes and affairs from the meeting. There were papers to be gathered, action-items to be added to her to-do list, and numerous other affairs of weather control. “Sorry, just a second,” she said, without looking up from her work. “I want to get this down before I forget.”
“There’s no rush,” he replied, keeping a respectful distance, with his hooves held evenly apart in the formal pose. “Good things take time.”
“Oh… thanks.” Twilight smiled at him for a moment, before returning to her work. “So uh… you needed to talk to me about something?”
“I did.” He paused a moment, and took in a breath. He squared his shoulders, straightened his spine, and stretched his wings out until the joints popped. His tension seemed to leave him as the breath did, his wings returned to his side as his pose became more relaxed. “If you’ll have them, I have gifts for you.”
“Gifts?” Twilight lifted her eyes as Thunderlane approached the table. Across the left side of his formal weather uniform was strapped a small saddlebag. It was the old kind that military messengers once used, with the cross-strap that ran across his chest. He opened it with a wing, and then reached his head down inside, withdrawing a single-bit coin and placing it in front of her.
“Oh… a bit?” Twilight asked, frowning slightly as she considered the gift. “Did I buy you lunch and forget about it or something? I… wait.” Something about the way the metal glinted caught her eye, and she levitated the coin closer. Where the front should have held Celestia’s face, there was instead a star surrounded by five others. It wasn’t a perfect replica of Twilight’s cutie mark, but it was close. Flipping it around, she found that the other side contained the image of her old tree library, elegantly carved into the metal surface.
“‘Friendship is Magic,’” she read the inscription from the cutie mark side, followed shortly by the tree side, “‘Knowledge is Power.’ Thunderlane, what is—”
“It’s the new bit coin. The one for your coronation,” he explained, stepping up to her side. The edges of his feathers brushed the edge of hers, his little scrub brush of a tail not-quite reaching the hairs of Twilight’s own. He smiled at her, just a hint of a blush coming to his cheeks, and nodded down at the coin.
“I heard from Rainbow that you hated the old design for them. The one with your face on the front and the crystal palace on the back?” He cleared his throat a moment, his words coming just slightly too fast. “She said you hated the idea of spending money with your face on it because it felt… well. It felt wrong. Like you don’t like being called ‘Your Highness.’ But I know you don’t like to make a fuss with Canterlot and let it pass. So I called up my cousin Silver Lining who works at the mint, and he talked to his boss, and so on and so forth until… well.”
He reached into his saddlebag, and pulled out a small satchel. It clinked when he dropped it on the table, and when his teeth took the drawstring and pulled, a little wave of bit coins spilled out onto the table. “It’s the first production run. For your approval.”
“Oh, wow.” It was Twilight’s turn to blush, as she looked back and forth between Thunderlane and the little pile of metal. “That’s… really sweet. And kind of abrupt. I had no idea you… I mean…”
“Yeah, I know.” He smiled and looked a few degrees down at the base of her neck. His wings ruffled, and it took him a moment before he could lift his head to her again. “I know we haven’t spoken much before now. It’s a little personal and out of nowhere. But I wanted to show that I was doing this for Twilight, the mare, and not for ‘Princess Twilight Sparkle, Her Royal Highness.’ And…”
Thunderlane again needed a moment, and took that moment to draw a breath. But when he let that breath out and continued, he was no longer speaking too quickly, and his voice had lost its tremor. Instead, he spoke in a calm, and steady cadence, holding her eyes with his. “Twilight, you’ve saved my life at least five times. Probably more. Beyond that, you’ve saved the lives of my family, and my friends, and my little brother. You’ve woken us from our nightmares and revitalized Ponyville. By rights, there’s nothing in this world I don’t owe to you.”
He gestured down at the pile of bits with his muzzle. “But I know you hate it when ponies owe you. Or feel obligated. I wanted to give you something not because I owe you, but just because I like who you are. You’re the hero, sure, but you’re also the unicorn -- or, alicorn, either way -- who actually cares to learn about weather teams and pegasus traditions. And you're also our librarian, and our Winter Wrap-Up organizer, and that cute mare up the way. So the coins felt right and… I also wanted you to have this.”
Thunderlane stuck his nose down into his bag, and carefully drew out the next item inside. It was a set of golden laurels -- real laurels, designed to rest over a pony’s ears and along the side of their head. The construction was crude, and the many dings and pockmarks along the side of the piece showed its age. But it was well cared for, and had been polished until it shone. “This was my great-grandfathers. He was awarded it on his Triumph after the Battle of Horseshoe Bend. It’s been in the family ever since. And—”
“Woah, no. Thunderlane…” The blush in Twilight’s cheeks was practically red by that point, and her wings were tucked in tight against her side. “I can’t take one of your family’s relics. That’s a part of your history.”
Thunderlane lifted a hoof and held it base-up, gently depositing the laurels there. “No,” he said softly, looking into her eyes. “Not on their own. On their own they’re a chunk of soft metal. Laurels only become special when a special pony wears them. Somepony who’s earned them.” He paused a moment and licked his lips. “I’m not a warrior, and I certainly haven’t earned a commendation for valor. But you have. And… I can’t imagine these bringing as much honor to my family in a closet as they could on your head. Not nearly as much.”
“Um. Wow. Okay.” Twilight took a half-step away from Thunderlane, fluffing out her wings as her gaze went up to the ceiling. “Uh. This is kind of a lot to take in all at once.”
“Yeah. It’s okay.” Thunderlane’s soft smile evolved to something closer to a grin. “I did practice that speech for awhile, it it helps.”
“That… does not make this any less awkward, no.” Twilight smiled a little too though, and her gaze lowered back down to him. She glanced at his saddlebag, and saw there was still a distinctive lump at the bottom. “Please tell me there’s nothing else in that bag.”
“Just one thing.” Thunderlane again reached down into his bag, but this time, he pulled out what appeared to be an old flag, carefully folded despite the obvious signs of wear and age. “It’s the standard of the House of Thunder, and our battle colors, from when that still mattered. Something suitable for a Princess of Equestria to hang over her door. It’s a silly old tradition, but it means a lot to me.” A little breath that was almost a laugh escaped him. “I know, it’s sudden. And I won’t be offended if you say you can’t accept. But I can’t think of a mare in the world I'd rather give it to.”
He drew a breath and let it out quickly, rolling his left shoulder until the joint cracked. Neither of them spoke. “Well,” he said, when the silence grew long, and Twilight’s embarrassed, overtaken expression had not calmed. “You’ll want some time to think this over. Talk with family and such. I’ll leave you to it, and—”
“No.” Twilight shook her head sharply. “I mean, not no I won’t take it. No I don’t need time. It’s just… I… this was very sudden, Thunderlane. And maybe the next time you want to show your thanks for saving Ponyville, just get me ice cream or something, okay? This was kind of over the top. But, yeah. I accept. I’d be honored to wear your family’s laurels.”
“What?” His jaw fell open a few degrees as he stared at her, and he shook his head as though to clear it. “I mean, you accept, like. Right now? Yes?”
“Is there some reason I shouldn’t?” Twilight asked, hiding her embarrassment with a hoof.
“No. No, not a reason in the world.” It was Thunderlane’s turn to laugh. “Here, we’ll step outside. Do the ceremony the traditional way. I’d have brought witnesses, but, you know! I didn’t think you’d accept so quickly.” His grin was practically giddy. He gathered up the laurels and the banner, and stepped outside to Twilight’s balcony. It was a beautiful spring morning, and Twilight’s castle afforded her a view of all of Ponyville.
Once outside, Thunderlane drew his deepest breath yet, and with a booming voice, shouted out to the world: “In the name of Cloudsdale and the infinite sky above, can I get a witness!?” His voice bounced off the homes and buildings of Ponyville, and many a pony looked their way. It wasn’t long at all before a little crowd of pegasi had gathered around the balcony, some hovering and some on clouds. They shouted encouragement and congratulations, telling Twilight she was lucky, or beautiful.
“Hello, everypony! Yes, thank you. Thunderlane decided to do something nice for me.” Twilight waved to them, adding under her breath: “And, you know, thanks for making this less embarrassing and not a big production or anything.” As they gathered, Thunderlane took the old family banner in his teeth, and draped it over the edge of Twilight’s balcony, a few knots in the old cords neatly holding it in place. Then he took the laurels in his teeth, and nodded to Twilight. She lowered her head.
And just like that, he brought the old laurels to rest over her ears. They fit perfectly.
“Witnessed!” cried out one of the pegasi, soon echoed by the others. “Witnessed! Witnessed! Witnessed!” There was cheering. Shouts from below. A scrawny pegasus colt snapped a picture.
“Yes, yes, everypony, thank you.” Twilight twitched her ears as she lifted her head, taking a moment to adjust the fit. “Yes, thank you. Okay, yes. Yes, thank you. I…”
“Hey!” Thunderlane shouted. “Give her some space, would you!? Ceremony’s over. Shoo.”
After a few more shouts -- and the threat of hitting them with a broom -- the cloud of pegasi dispersed, flying back to Ponyville. Thunderlane and Twilight spent a moment more in silence, watching them go, and watching each other.
“Well, uh… this was… interesting,” Twilight finally broke the silence. “But, I need to go meet with my friends, and—”
“Yeah, no.” Thunderlane agreed quickly. “Busy day ahead. I’ll let you have your space. And, Twilight? Thank you. I’m lucky to have met you. And I’ll see you soon.”
Then, Thunderlane left. Eventually, Twilight went back inside. She put the laurels on a convenient shelf, finished her weather control paperwork, and then spent a soothing hour reading about the history of aluminum manufacturing. It was just what she needed to calm herself down after a stressful social encounter. Before long, it was near noon, and time to go meet her friends for lunch. She checked on Spike, headed downstairs, and pushed open the door to Ponyville.
“Congratulations!” There was a pegasus on the road near the palace, chatting with a few of her friends. She waved, and Twilight waved back. Then came another congratulatory shout, from a cloud nearby. “You looked beautiful!” shouted a third, this one all the way off on the nearby bridge.
“Yes. Um… ha ha. Thank you,” Twilight spoke quietly, and waved back to the three, a tense and artificial smile appearing on her face. “Did not realize this was going to be such a big deal… okay. Well that’s one more thing to get used to.”
She made it all the way down her front step before she noticed the newspaper. She’d already collected her morning papers, but there at her doorstep was a copy of the Foal Free Press, bundled up with an unusual bright red string that wasn’t their usual. Pausing in her steps, Twilight picked up the paper, and unrolled it in front of her.
“SPECIAL BREAKING-NEWS EDITION” the front page read. “PRINCESS TWILIGHT SPARKLE TO WED LOCAL WEATHERPONY.” And there was the picture, of her blushing as Thunderlane put the laurels over her ears.
She glanced over the headline before turning to the middle to find the Science and Technology section, as well as the antiques classifieds. It always astounded her how comprehensive the school newspaper had become.
She paused.
Then she turned back to the headline and read it over again. She read it three more times, just to make sure she wasn't hallucinating.
Her eyes crept up to her balcony, where the House Thunder banner still hung, clearly visible to the entire town.
"Oh."
Princess Pile Drinking Games
Twilight had a plan. Step one was to find Thunderlane and explain that she didn’t fully appreciate the significance of laurels in traditional pegasus culture, vis-a-vis, “Of course I’m not marrying you, you feather-brained lunatic. I barely know you!” Step two was to contact the Foal Free Press and get them to issue a retraction. Step three was to hide in her library and read about spackle until it all blew over.
It seemed like things were going well at first. She managed to find Thunderlane’s house, and only thirteen ponies congratulated her on her marriage on the way there. Plus one who said that Twilight hardly even looked pregnant.
“Thunderlane!” Twilight bellowed, her hoof slamming on his front door. His house was a little two-story thing in center of Ponyville, just spitting distance from the town hall. Ponies from the market and the square started as Twilight nearly beat the door down. “Don’t you pretend you’re not home! I can hear you moving around in there and I’ve already lit one pony on fire today!”
There was no answer, and after a few more moments of pounding, Twilight let out a sharp snort. Her wings spread, and she lifted off the ground, zipping around to each of the buildings windows. “Thunderlane!” she called, peering in one. “I know you’re in there!” She peered in another. Finally, she caught a hint of motion and the sound of hooves. “There you are!”
Vanishing in a flash of purple light, she reappeared inside the house, glaring hard ahead. “I am going to rip your wings off and—oh.”
It was Thunderlane’s little brother, Rumble. He was a sharp colt, a fast learner, and fast on the uptake. Thus, when confronted with an enraged alicorn wizard, rather than doing what most foals would have done and trying to explain himself, he cut directly to the inevitable step three: screaming and running.
“Help! Bridezilla!” he shouted, fleeing into the house as fast as his little legs would carry him.
“Oh for the love of—Rumble!” Twilight chased after him, out of the little playroom and into the front stair. He took the stairs two at a time, his little body shaking as he half flew and half glided down.
“Quick, everypony!” he rushed for the front door. “Warn Thunderlane before-” Twilight’s magic surrounded him, and swept him up off his hooves, holding him still in the air in front of her. “Oh yeah!” he bellowed. “Well I can still shout! And everypony will-” Twilight held his jaw shut.
Rumble floated there in silence for a few long seconds, as Twilight caught her breath. She flexed her wings, and popped a joint. “Okay,” she finally said, releasing Rumble’s jaw. “I’m sorry I startled you, Rumble. Could you please tell me where Thunderlane is?”
“No!” Rumble snorted, and flicked his tail in the air. “You’re only going to turn him into a newt or make all his hair fall out or something.”
“I promise I definitely probably won’t do those two specific things,” Twilight said, in her best reassuring tone. “I just need to talk to him about our ‘engagement.’”
“Nuh-uh!” Rumble insisted. “You said you were going to rip his wings off! You’re like the villain from those old faerie tales where a pegasus marries a unicorn princess only she turns out to be evil and a sorceress and makes him sell his boat.”
“Rumble!” Twilight lifted a hoof to her face and let out another long breath. “I am not marrying Thunderlane . I need to meet with him to call the wedding off . I don’t want to marry him. I don’t know him . It was an accident. I didn’t understand that those things he gave me were a wedding proposal.”
Rumble paused. “Wait, what?” he asked. “How do you not know about the gifts? Treis Dóra is like this huge thing—”
“Yes, this huge thing in Cloudsdale. I get it. Traditional pegasus culture.” Twilight let out an angry nicker. “I’m from Canterlot. I didn’t know. Now, where is Thunderlane?”
“Uh… probably in Canterlot.” Rumble twitched his ears, once. “I mean, normally, in Cloudsdale, the bride’s family does all the wedding planning. The guy’s family pays for it. It’s a tradition.”
“Oh you’re kidding me!” Twilight took a sharp step forward, and Rumble flinched away. “He’s in Canterlot right now telling my parents we’re engaged!? He couldn’t have waited a week!?”
“Well… no.” Rumble said, after he had a moment to recover. “That’s half the time. You’re getting married in two weeks. That’s the first new moon after the proposal and… um…” Rumble slowly trailed off, and leaned as far away from Twilight as his little neck could move. “Um…”
Twilight's left eye twitched sharply as her teeth ground together. “I mean, uh…” Rumble coughed. “Not… that.”
“No no.” Twilight gently put Rumble down. “That’s okay , Rumble. It’s not your fault. Thank you very much for telling me what I needed to know. And sorry for giving you a scare there earlier. I should get out of your house! Just one last question. Which room is Thunderlane’s room?”
Rumble pointed. Twilight made her way up there cheerfully, opened his window with a broad-spectrum laser blast from her horn, and calmly flew out of the house.
“Okay,” she said, as she made her way by air to the Ponyville Train Station. “This isn’t so bad. I just need to hop the first train to Canterlot, tell Thunderlane the wedding is off, tell my parents at the same time, and then it’s right back to Ponyville! No problem. I’ll make it a day trip.” Curiously, nopony bothered her on her way to the station. In fact, many made room for her, and the ticket line just cleared up when she reached the station.
“Well hello there!” she greeted the station attendant, an older stallion with greying hair. “One ticket to Canterlot please! Departing immediately.”
“I’m sorry, Princess,” he said, swallowing slowly. “But uh… the next train to Canterlot doesn’t leave until seven this evening.”
“That’s okay!” Twilight said, bright and cheerful and friendly. Exceedingly so, in fact. “I’m sure you can schedule another train! Leaving right now. I mean, I am a Princess you know. I’m sure you can manage that.”
“The track is occupied, Princess, even if we had another train-”
“Princess Cadence doesn’t have to take the commercial trains. She has her own private car that runs wherever she likes.” Twilight leaned in closer to the ticket manager, who in turn flinched and backed away. “She seems to manage getting around just fine.”
“Well, yes!” The old stallion nodded quickly. “Yes, that’s true. Princess Cadence does have her own car. But she… well. She pays the train company for the privilege. And there are crystal ponies to see to all the details. She rules an empire, you know? And you’re just kind of the pony up the street…”
“So what you’re saying is,” Twilight nodded forcefully, “that if I want to get to Canterlot today, my best option would be to conquer Ponyville and form an independent state. Is that what you’re telling me?” Her eye twitched. “Is that my best option right now!? Because I can turn a pony into an orange and don’t you think I won’t! Everypony, oranges, all the time! Plus it’s even better because oranges can’t turn up at my wedding and-!”
“Woah there!” a new voice cut into the discussion, as Rainbow Dash landed next to Twilight. “Cool it, pint-size-Sombra,” she ordered with a firm tone. “Come on , Twilight. It’s been awhile since you freaked out like this. I thought you were getting over this anxiety disorder stuff?”
“I am! I am so over it that I-”
“Then do your breathing exercises and stop bothering the ticket stallion. Jeeze.” Rainbow lifted off the ground just enough to cross her forehooves and stare down at Twilight. Twilight looked between her and the ticket counter, took a deep breath and let it out. “There. You feeling a bit better?”
“I… guess,” Twilight managed, though the strain in her tone was still obvious. She took another breath. “Sorry,” she said to the ticket stallion. “That was just the stress talking. I promise, I’d never really enslave Ponyville and then turn you all into oranges.”
“Oh.” He laughed quietly, taking a half-step towards the window. “I know, Princess. Wedding stress can be-”
“I mean, how would you even enslave an orange? It’s not practical.” Analyzing a complicated problem always made Twilight feel better. “Plus, there’s no way Princess Celestia would just sit there and stand for it. If I ever did turn evil, I’d be way more likely to just put a few local community leaders under mind control and-”
“Hey, Twilight. You know what you need?” Rainbow Dash flew up close and leaned in between the two. “Ice cream.”
“Ice cream?” Twilight asked, blinking. “Because it’ll make me feel better?”
“Because you can’t talk and eat at the same time.” She rolled her eyes. “Come on. Let’s go flying.”
After another word of apology to the ticket stallion, Twilight flew off with Rainbow Dash. They weren’t headed anywhere inparticular, but circled around Ponyville several times in silence. Twilight did her breathing exercises, and after a few laps, the tension left her shoulders and her brow, and she let out a long sigh.
“Thanks for the help back there,” she said. “I was really not at my best. I’ll have to do something nice for that poor stallion later.”
“Yeah, probably,” Rainbow agreed. “Wedding jitters are really getting to you, huh? I heard about what happened at Thunderlane’s house.”
“I guess I made a bit of a scene.” Twilight sighed, beating her wings once to catch up to Rainbow and float by her side. “This is just… not how I planned to spend today.”
“Yeah, I know.” Rainbow offered an understanding smile, and bumped Twilight’s shoulder. “I was really surprised you agreed on the spot like that. But, you know, I think you did the right thing! Thunderlane is a great guy and—”
“Rainbow, I’m not marrying him.” Twilight’s words were more weary than sharp, but she pressed on just the same. “It was a misunderstanding. I didn’t understand the significance of what he was doing. I thought they were just… odd gifts and he was asking if I accepted them.”
“Wait… what?” Rainbow put on a burst of speed and pivoted so she was flying backwards, looking Twilight head on. “How do you not know about that? Treis Dóra is one of Cloudsdale’s oldest traditions! It’s a symbolic representation of everything a husband and wife should provide for each other.”
“Rainbow, you know I grew up in Canterlot.” Twilight let out a firm breath and shook her head.
“Yeah, but…” Rainbow let out an exasperated breath as she tried to find the words, and spread her forehooves wide. “It’s still a big deal! This huge cultural… thing! And besides, even if you didn’t know the details, didn’t any of it strike you as odd? Like, three symbolic gifts, ending with the standard of his house? That it required a ceremony with five witnesses? You didn’t ask about any of that?”
“I know! I should have asked.” Twilight waved vaguely in the air with a hoof. “It just… didn’t come to mind, okay? I thought it was some silly pegasus thing.”
Rainbow’s hooves crossed over her barrel. “Silly pegasus thing?”
“Ugh!” Twilight lifted a hoof to her head. “Please, Rainbow? I’m kind of having a bad day. I don’t need this on top of it. I didn’t think to ask, okay? And it’s not exactly how I pictured my proposal.”
“Oh really? How did you picture it?” she demanded. “Mare down on one knee? Ring? Long courtship?”
“Well… yeah.” Twilight agreed. “Just… you know. A normal wedding.”
“Twilight,” Rainbow gestured over her entire body with one smooth motion of a hoof. “Where would I wear a ring?”
“I, uh…”
“You thought you were going to marry a unicorn.” Rainbow’s words were flat and direct.
“Uh!” Twilight stammered. “No! I mean… maybe! Statistically it’s likely. But that doesn’t mean I have anything against marrying a pegasus. Or an earth pony! All races are beautiful and valuable and should be treasured as equals!” She emphasized her words with a snort. “And… and that’s not the point!”
Twilight flapped her wings hard several times, banking towards Sugar Cube Corner and forcing Rainbow to catch up to her side. “The point is, it was wrong of Thunderlane to propose in the first place. And if he had gotten down on one knee with a ring, I’d still be upset. Not because he’s a pegasus—because I barely know him!”
“So?” Rainbow demanded. “I barely knew my husband before we got married.”
Twilight stared at Rainbow Dash in gaping silence.
Then she plowed face first into Sugar Cube Corner.
Princess Pile Drinking Games
“So you knew about this all along?” Twilight asked, as Pinkie Pie held the ice-pack to her forehead. The three of them had found a little table in the back of Sugarcube Corner, only a few paces away from the Single Cake. Pinkie Pie wanted to surprise Twilight with a wedding cake, but when she heard the news, she’d realized she had to improvise. It was a lot like a wedding cake, except instead of little figurines of Twilight and Thunderlane on top, it had a little figure of Twilight holding a book and eating from a tiny tub of Häagen-Dazs.
“Hat hainhow—” Pinkie Pie shifted her stance, so she was holding the icepack with her hoof instead. “That Rainbow Dash was married? Yeah, totally! I didn’t get to do their wedding ceremony because I was too young but I got to bring cookies to the reception and her husband was super nice. His name is Shade Throw and he lives in Trottingham and writes scripts for plays that are super witty and all like ‘sick burn!’ But in person he’s actually super friendly! I like calling him Shade but he prefers Throw because Shade sounds all dark and menacing and that’s just not him.”
Pinkie Pie inhaled. Twilight considered her situation. Rainbow took a slice of cake. “Anypony else want some of this? No? Okay cool.” She cut a second.
“You said you were ‘too young’,” Twilight observed, speaking slowly. She lifted a hoof to her forehead, taking the ice pack from Pinkie with a small nod. “How long has Rainbow been married?”
“Since I was sixteen,” Rainbow mouthed around a large chunk of cake, her muzzle and jaw splattered with icing. “So like, four years now?”
“Okay.” Twilight worked her jaw as she mulled that over. “And, before I recoil in horror, he was also sixteen at the time, right?”
“Ewww.” Rainbow scrunched up her muzzle, and after a brief pause, licked the frosting off it. “Yes . Don’t be gross, Twilight. I’m like six months older than him.”
“And I’m assuming…” Twilight continued, still with her slow tones. “That from your age, this was an arranged marriage?”
“Yeah, basically.” Rainbow shrugged, and took a bite out of the rest of her cake. “Like, we hung out for a day first and stuff so I could check him out. He seemed okay.”
Twilight cleared her throat. Nodded again. “And… he lives in Trottingham now?”
“Uh-huh. He wanted to write scripts and I wanted to be a weathermare. Odds of us ending up in the same place?” She made a smooth gesture with her hoof. “Pretty low.” Leaning down, she took another bite of cake, and chewed as she continued: “I fly over there like once a month so we can talk and bang and stuff.”
A hot blush rose to Twilight’s cheeks, and she lifted a hoof to hide her face. Pinkie Pie giggled. “When she says ‘bang’,” Pinkie whispered, in conspiratorial tones. “She actually means they—”
“I know what that means, Pinkie!” The blush in Twilight’s cheeks got hotter, but she forced it down and returned her hoof to the table. “Okay, um. I have like ten million questions right now. But let’s start with ‘Is this normal for pegasi?’”
Rainbow wiggled a hoof. “It’s normal for Cloudsdale. That means most pegasi, but like, I know Fluttershy hates it. It’s part of why she moved away. Plus traditions change over time. Like, more ponies do it Thunderlane’s way these days. Wait until they’re older, all that cool stuff. He probably got his parents blessing first though. That’s still a big deal.”
“Okay…” Twilight slowly nodded. “Second question. Why have I never heard of this before?”
"I don't know, Twilight.” Rainbow added a firmness to her tone and a bit of a pointed stare. “You read all the time, you lived in the capital. Didn't you ever read anything about it?"
“The romances I read were mostly about unicorn…” Twilight coughed. “Yeah, okay. But… you and Shade Throw…” She let out a breath. “I mean, I hate to ask this but… I mean. You only see eachother once a month. Are you even in love?”
“Pfft.” Rainbow snorted. “No. But he’s a cool guy. You know. Legit.”
“And you’re okay with this?” Twilight’s question elicited a blank look, and she pressed on. “I mean, you’re okay with being married to a pony you only see once a month, who lives in another city, who you admit you don’t love? Like…” She grappled with the air for a moment. “What if he slept with another mare?”
“That depends, is she hot?”
“What does that matter!?” Twilight shouted. Pinkie Pie’s ears folded back, and her smile faltered a few degrees. Quickly, Twilight moderated her tone. “Sorry. Sorry. I didn’t mean to shout. But Rainbow… seriously, why?”
“I can’t have my husband sleeping with ugly mares, Twilight. That reflects on me.” Rainbow pointed both hooves at her chest. “Ponies will be all like, ‘Wow, what’s wrong with her that that’s an improvement?’ If he’s sleeping with another mare she better be smokin’.”
“Okay, no.” Twilight removed the icepack from her head, gently setting it down on the table. “That’s not marriage. That’s a parody of what marriage is. Marriage is about love and closeness and emotional support and deep caring for another.”
“Well…” Rainbow paused. She glanced at Pinkie, who shrugged. “That’s what unicorn marriage is about, sure. But, like, Pinkie Pie’s parents were picked to marry by a magic stone. Right, Pinkie?”
“Uh-huh!” Pinkie Pie nodded. “I touched it once and it went BOOONG and then this other mare walked up and I was like ‘are you here waiting for your husband too?’ but I think she was confused and she might also have been a mime because she kept saying she was in an invisible closet. Then her parents came and said she’d done something bad and took her away and I never saw her again.”
Twilight and Rainbow paused for several long moments. “Ooookay,” Rainbow drew out the word. “Um. We… should probably come back to that later. But the point is for earth ponies, marriage is about the family and the community. And for pegasi, marriage is about three things: kids, money, and status. So like…” She drew out a line in the air. “Think less ‘true love forever’ and more ‘business partners for life.’ I mean, Throw and I do care about each other? Totally do. But it’s like…”
Rainbow swirled a hoof in the air, circling it a few times. “I dunno.” She shrugged. “My dad always said that love isn’t something you fall into, it’s something you grow into. Or you don’t. It’s like, if I loved somepony, I’d go out with him, have some fun, maybe go back to his place for the evening. Keep it up for a few months or years or however long we feel like. But I’m not going to add a room to my house for him. You need to keep these things in perspective.”
“That’s horrible.”
“Twilight, I’m getting a little irritated with you using that word to describe my…” Rainbow let out a sharp sigh, and tapped her forehead twice. “Okay, think of it this way. Pretend we were starting the conversation over and you were hearing this all for the first time.” She made a point of clearing her throat. “Twilight, there’s this stallion a few towns over who I go to see once a month. And he’s nice and we talk about stuff and one day I think we might get a house together and have some foals. Is that so bad?”
“Oh, neat!” Pinkie Pie’s ears perked up. “You want to have foals?”
“Eventually, yeah.” Rainbow Dash nodded. “Not, like, now? I’m way too young for that. But, I don’t know, eventually? They’re super cute and think you’re cool and you can make them do chores and stuff. That could be good.”
“I don’t think you’ve thought through all of the implications of having foals, Rainbow.” Twilight rubbed her temples.
“No, I have. I just really hate doing dishes.”
“Okay.” Twilight lowered her hoof back to the table. “Okay, I concede that what you’re doing isn’t evil but it’s still messed up.”
“Well, it’s how Cloudsdale does it.” Rainbow lifted off so she could defiantly cross her forehooves. “And last I checked, Ms. Dainty Unicorn Princess, that’s about a third of Equestria. So get used to it.”
“Dassshie,” Pinkie Pie warned. “Don’t be mean. Twilight is having a hard time with this too.”
Rainbow frowned a moment, but uncurled her forelegs, and landed next to Twilight. She scratched the back of her head. “Sorry. Um…”
“No, it’s okay,” Twilight was quick to reply. “I just… you know.”
“Yeah, I know.” There was another long silence, which Rainbow eventually broke by offering Twilight a hoof. “Still super awesome friends forever?”
“Yeah,” Twilight smiled faintly, and tapped her hoof to Rainbow’s.
“And uh… hey.” Rainbow looked up and away, not meeting Twilight’s eyes. “He’ll be here for the wedding. Or, not-wedding. I’ll make sure he shows up. You know. So all my friends can meet him. I’m not going to pull a Shining Armor about this thing.”
“Okay? First? You totally Shining Armor’ed this thing.” Twilight’s hoof made a smooth motion across the table. “Second, that’s not a verb!” Twilight’s tone played at harsh, but Rainbow looked back, and the two exchanged brief smiles. Twilight laughed.
“And, you know?” she added after a moment, “It’s okay. This has been embarrassing and stressful and apparently I have a lot to learn about pegasus culture, but nopony got hurt or anything. There wasn’t even any real harm done. I’ll just get the train this evening, tell Thunderlane it was a mistake, and hug things out with my parents.”
“Yeah!” Pinkie Pie rushed over to squeeze Twilight’s shoulders. “That’s the spirit! You’re single and loving it and nothing’s gonna get you down!”
“That’s right, Pinkie.” Twilight laughed, then took a breath and let it out. “So, can I get some of that cake? The bit with the little me on it. I want that little ice cream she has.”
Twilight ended up having two slices—Pinkie Pie significantly more than two—and there was still enough Single Cake for everypony in Sugar Cube Corner. They were just finishing up when Spike ran into the building, shouting at the top of his lungs and waving a scroll.
“Spike!” Twilight sat up. “What is it? Is everything okay? Does Princess Celestia need me to go on a magical friendship adventure?”
“No! I mean. Maybe. Kind of?” He paused. “I guess, philosophically, you could view all of life as a magical friendship—”
“Just read the message, Spike!”
“Okay okay. Yeesh.” He unrolled the scroll, clearing his throat. “My dearest Twilight, yaada yadda. Watched you grow from a filly to a mare. Blah blah. So proud. Blah blah. Next step in your grand journey. Etc etc….” He hurriedly worked through the paper. “Get to the point already… aaaaand. Okay. Princess Celestia sends her love and also wants you to know that Princess Cadence’s train just left Canterlot. She heard the news and offered to help, and your parents accepted. She’ll be here tonight by eight and offers to officiate the ceremony. She also says that Cadence will be bringing you a half-dozen casks from the palace cellar as an early wedding gift.”
Twilight took in a long breath, but then she held her hoof to her chest, and slowly let the breath out, extending her hoof as she went. “No,” she said, calmly. “No, that’s okay. That doesn’t change anything. Cadence will understand. And honestly, I could really use her advice right now. I kind of feel like freaking out, but, this will be good.” She licked her lips. “Why would Celestia be sending me wine casks?”
“Right. Forgot to mention that,” Rainbow Dash took another bite of cake, mouthing around it. “Pegasus weddings are open parties. Like, there’s no invitations or anything. Ponies just show up?” she swallowed, gesturing down at Spike. “With a Princess getting married I’m pretty sure everypony in town will be there.”
“Oh. Okay.” Twilight stared down at the table. After a moment, she managed to ask: “Anything else, Spike?”
“Not for you, but there’s one for Rainbow Dash.”
“Is it about my wedding?” Twilight’s wings scrunched tight against her body.
“No, it’s about weather control,” Spike answered, and Twilight’s wings relaxed. “They’re moving Cloudsdale closer to Ponyville ahead of schedule so Thunderlane’s pegasus guests can make it, and Princess Celestia needs to make sure the pony weather control team can… Twilight?”
“Twilight, breathe.”
Princess Pile Drinking Games
By the time the sun set on Ponyville, Twilight was well entrenched in her library. She’d made a nest, composed equally of books on pegasus culture and used wine glasses. There were treatises on tradition in Cloudsdale, a history of marriage in Equestria, pegasus/pegasus romance novels, and quite a few other things she hadn’t gotten too yet. She read quickly, chewing through tomes as she drank her way through the finer things.
“Spike!” she called, when the glass she held to her lips turned out to be empty. “Refill!”
It took only a few moments for the pitter-patter of little dragon feet on the stairs to become audible, and for Spike to appear in the doorway. He looked in on Twilight, and her glasses and her pile of books, but notably was empty handed: “I uh… I think you’ve had enough, Twilight.”
“It’s my castle, I’ll drink as much as I want,” she insisted. “Celestia is sending us six casks of wine. It’s not like we’re going to run out.”
“But…” Spike tapped his claws together. “That’s not wine, that’s grape juice.”
“Excessive drinking makes me feel sick.” Twilight shook out her tail, trying to focus on her book. “Plus I don’t want to be drunk when Cadence arrives in an hour and a half.”
“But…” Spike frowned. “Then why do you keep having me bring it to you in a wine-”
“Because mimicking self-medicating behaviors is itself a form of self medicating behavior!” Twilight snapped, letting out a frustrated snort. “Honestly, Spike! It’s like you didn’t even read those books on anxiety disorders I got you for your birthday.”
“Uh…” Spike scratched the back of his head. “Yeah. How could I forget… that birthday.” After a moment, he let out a sigh, and trotted up to Twilight’s side. “Well, have you found anything interesting at least?”
“You could say that.” Twilight lowered her head, shut her eyes, and blindly gestured down at the book she was reading. “They’re about affairs.”
“What is?” Spike asked, glancing over the titles around him as he walked into Twilight’s side of the book nest.
“All of it. Classical legends. Philosophical works on the nature of love. Contemporary romance novels.” Twilight shut the book she was reading and held it up to Spike so he could examine the cover.
“Blown away?” he asked, eyeing the cover art. It depicted two pegasus mares hoof and hoof in the clouds, wings upraised, surrounded by an artful halo of swirling shed feathers. “‘You’ve seen the movie, now read the book.’”
“It’s a story,” Twilight said, checking over her empty wine glasses for some remnant of liquid before letting out a long sigh, “about a mare named Both Ways, trapped in a boring and loveless marriage, who realizes that she has feelings for other mares when she falls in love with Misty, a friend from her old college days. She pretends to take up distance flying so her family won’t think it’s odd that she’s out of the house so much, and for six months , she has a secret affair with Misty under the nose of her apparently faithful husband.”
“Eesh…” Spike frowned, and tapped his claws together. “That’s kind of grim. Does it just, end like that? Or do Ways and her husband break up or something?”
“No!” Twilight shook her head. “Misty and Both Ways break up. After six months, Both Ways gets bored with Misty and realizes that, in her words, ‘it’s not my husband’s fault that passion has a shelf life.’ She decides it’s not worth losing her kids and house over ‘some mare’ and the two have a tragic breakup scene!” Twilight huffed, loudly. “Apparently, it inspired a movie! A movie that’s super popular in Cloudsdale but that was banned from just about every ground-based movie theater.”
“Because…”
“Because it’s morally horrifying!” Twilight lifted a hoof to the air, adding quickly. “Also, because it had a lot of graphic s…” She eyed Spike. “Kissing.”
“Ew.” He made a face. “Why would you show that in a movie?”
“I don’t know! I don’t know why Pegasus romance apparently requires me to know what sort of… kissing, makes Both Ways…” She paused. “Temporarily very happy. But that’s not the point!” She shook her head, and rose from where she sat. “The point is, they’re all like that. That’s not how a romance is supposed to work. Mare meets stallion, mare and stallion get to know each other, mare and stallion fall in love, mare asks stallion to marry her, live happily ever after!”
Twilight huffed in silence for several seconds, before stamping her hoof in the ground. “And that’s what Cadence and Shining did and she’s the Princess of Love! That’s how it’s supposed to work.” She shook out her mane, and trotted sharply over to the window. “At least now I understand how I never got exposed to this stuff growing up. It’s vile!”
“So is uh…” Spike asked, hesitantly tapping his claws together again. “Is this going to make things, you know, harder with you and Thunderlane?”
“I don’t know.” Twilight lifted her hoof to her face. “I assume he’s going to be with Cadence and my parents on the train, so… they must have been talking that whole way. By the time they arrive, surely Cadence and my parents will realize I barely know him? Honestly, this might self-destruct without my even needing to call it off. And even if it doesn’t… well. Rainbow says he’s an even-tempered guy and that he’ll understand. So it’s not like I’m anticipating a big fight. It’s just… a heck of a thing to discover.”
“Like discovering that you’re destined to wield the element of magic and also an immortal princess?” Spike suggested, hurrying up to Twilight’s side. “Because, you know. That was a big thing too, I mean. And you got through that just fine.”
Twilight turned her head down from the window to look at Spike, and after a moment, smiled. “You know, Spike? You’re right.” She reached out with a hoof to noogie his head. “And you know what else? I’m sorry I’m dragging you through all this craziness with Thunderlane. I know you get swept up in these adventures every time. But no matter how crazy they get, you’ve always been there for me. I didn’t learn about the magic of friendship until I came to Ponyville, but in a way, you were my first and best—”
Downstairs, a loud bell chimed to announce a pony was at the castle gates. “Oh, nevermind. Spike go see who it is, would you? And bring these glasses downstairs while you’re at it.”
A few minutes later, Fluttershy found her way up into the library. Under the best of circumstances, Fluttershy was a slight creature, but as she stepped over to Twilight she seemed to shrink inwards. She ducked low to keep out of sight of the windows, kept her tail tight in against her body, and wore a heavy hooded cloak that kept her head, wings, and cutie mark concealed.
“Fluttershy!?” Twilight rushed to her friend’s side. “What’s wrong? Are you—”
“Shhhh,” Fluttershy lifted a hoof to her lips. “Don’t say my name.” She checked out the window quickly, and then hurriedly ducked her head out of sight. “Twilight, is it okay if I stay in one of the palace spare rooms for a few days? Or a few weeks, maybe? And you can’t tell anypony I’m here.”
“Yes, of course,” Twilight said at once. She leaned in close to Fluttershy, ducked below the window, and lowered her voice. “But… what’s happening?”
“Oh, it’s awful, Twilight!” she whispered back, squeezing her eyes shut a moment. “With the wedding planning, all sorts of pegasi are arriving in town! I know your wedding isn’t for two weeks, but all the inns and spare rooms in Ponyville are going to be rented by tomorrow morning, so they’re here now! Ponies I never wanted to see again. Ponies I left Cloudsdale to get away from.”
“Oh, no!” Twilight reached out to hold Fluttershy’s hoof with her own. “Are you okay? Did anything happen?”
“No, I got away in time, but… Twilight.” Fluttershy sucked in a tight breath. “My wife is in town. And she knows I’m here!”
Twilight drew in a long breath. She lowered her head. Let it out. “I hate pegasus culture so much. ”
Fluttershy’s eyes opened wide. “You too?” she asked, hopeful. “That’s great! But then, why did you agree to a traditional marriage with Thunderlane?”
“I didn’t. I’m not…” Twilight thought back to the argument with Rainbow earlier. “It was a misunderstanding. I’ve never seen the gifting ceremony before and he never used the word ‘married’. I didn’t recognize it until after it was done, and I’m going to call it off tonight when he, my parents, and Cadence all get into town. They’ll be here in an hour.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Fluttershy said, squeezing Twilight’s hoof back. “It’s an awful custom, Twilight. Just awful! You don’t know how lucky you are to avoid it.”
“Okay, right…” Twilight rubbed her temples with her free hoof. “Let’s go back to the part where you have a wife? I mean…” Twilight gestured. “Is that even a thing for non-unicorns? Nopony would think that’s odd in Canterlot, but Pinkie Pie said her family didn’t approve of homosexual relationships.”
“Pinkie Pie is an earth pony, Twilight.” Fluttershy shook her head. “It’s best not to ask what they think.”
“Wow. There is a lot more socio-racial tension in Equestria than I previously realized.” Twilight sat there in a daze for a moment, trying to assimilate the new information in front of her. “And, how has this never come up before?”
“Because I don’t want it to come up!” Fluttershy ducked even lower, like her unseen observers were just outside the window peering in. “I was sixteen, Twilight! I was just moving from Cloudsdale to Ponyville to get away from those bullies and that awful city and the traditional pegasus ways .” She sneered as she emphasized the phrase. “And then my parents showed up with this noblepony named Shady Sands in tow, and everypony was staring at me. I couldn't handle the pressure, Twilight! I said yes just to get away from them!”
“Oh… oh my gosh.” Twilight frowned, leaning in closer to her friend. “What happened? You’re hiding from her?”
“I have too. I wouldn't call it off, or talk about divorce. There was just too much pressure. All those ponies staring!” Fluttershy let out a loud squeak. “I told her I joined the army. I’ve been writing letters to her every month about fighting the changeling menace!”
A long sniffle escaped Fluttershy, and she buried her head in her free hoof. “I just can’t deal with it, Twilight! I tried to see her. To make it work. I did! But every time I stop over, just trying to talk with her, she’s cooked something special for us and there’s a trail of rose petals leading to the bed and she uses those little tips of her teeth to nibble on my ears and whisper that I’m beautiful.”
“I mean, she paid for my cottage and a house in Cloudsdale just so I could live wherever I wanted! Two houses!” Her sniffling grew more intense, and her eyes watered up: “How is one mare supposed to handle that!? ”
“That. I, uh…” Twilight coughed. “That does sound terrible. I mean it… no.” She shook her head firmly. “No, you know what? Forget it. No, Fluttershy. You can’t stay here. Because I’m your friend, and friends don’t let their friends live their lives in fear!” She wrapped a leg around Fluttershy’s shoulders, and pulled her to her hooves. “We’re going to go find your wife, right now . You’re telling her you don’t love her, and by the power invested in me by the Equestrian monarchy, I am declaring you two divorced.”
Fluttershy gaped. “Twilight! No, you can’t possibly… I mean. Can you even do that?”
“Can I fly?” Twilight demanded. “Do I have big hooves and oddly strong hindquarters? Do I shoot lasers from my forehead?”
“Well, yes, but-”
“Then I can do that!” Twilight’s voice boomed, in a remarkable impression of Luna’s own Royal Canterlot Voice. “And I’m going to do that.” She gave Fluttershy an affirming squeeze. “Right now. I’m bucking this awful tradition. Are you with me?”
“Yeah…” Fluttershy agreed quietly. Then more loudly, “Yeah! Let’s march into town right now! I am so ready to do this!”
The two of them flew into town from the palace balcony, checking with each of the inns and public houses to see if a mare named Shady Sands had rented a room there. Finally, as time went on, a helpful pony in the square directed them to one of the townhouses near the market. Apparently, it rented. Resolute, the two of them flew that way, pressing through the evening crowds that were moving in and out of the taverns or clustering around the train station.
Then Twilight knocked.
“I’m so ready,” Fluttershy said, though her voice was barely above a whisper, and had picked up a nervous wheeze. “So ready. So ready. Just going to tell her that I don’t love her, and that’ll be that. So ready for this.”
“You are,” Twilight assured her, patting her shoulder. “It’s time to hold your head up and look your oppressor in the eye!”
Then the door opened, and both of them looked Shady Sands in the eyes. Her golden, slitted eyes. They were the only things that stood out in the dark. The interior of the house was unlit, but the light of the street lamps was enough to make her eyes shine. Everything else was half-observed. Vague shapes in the shadows. A dark coat that faded into the gloom, visible only as the motion of legs and the movement of the body. Leathery wings that were no more than a vague impression of purple, and the little tips of claws. A short tail, like a brush, attached to an athletic frame. There was strength, and there were curves, tufted ears, and the all-seeing eye of Luna on a choker around her throat. There was a little gasp of breath. The flash of fangs in the darkness.
“Fluttershy!” Shady Sands whispered. A hoof gestured, and Fluttershy was pulled through the door like metal to a magnet. In an instant, she was in Shady Sands hooves, their noses so gently pressed together. “My brave soldier.” In the shadows of the house, Shady was still concealed, Fluttershy half in the light and half hidden. Twilight could see their lips brush, see Shady’s choker fog with the heat from Fluttershy’s breath. Shady’s hoof stroked back Fluttershy’s mane, holding her face so steady. Shady leaned in.
“Woah! Woah!” Twilight’s horn came to life, illuminating the entire ground level of the house in a bright purple glow. She shoved her way through the door, and pushed Shady back. She stumbled away, now clearly visible. A bat pony, with hair like a stallion but curves like a mare. Bright eyes and sharp fangs. And something mystic about her. Her jewelry. Her motions. The way a thought was enough to pull Fluttershy in.
“Excuse me?” Shady recovered quickly, taking a half step towards Twilight. “You may be a Princess, your Highness, but this is my house and that’s my wife.”
“Huh?” Twilight snapped out of a daze, shaking her head. “Yeah, well! Uh… you may be physically perfect, but uh…” She coughed. “Fluttershy has things to say to you!”
“Yeah, um… Shady?” Fluttershy looked at the ground. “That is… um. You know. We’ve known eachother for a long time? Well not that long a time in the cosmic sense of things. Actually a relatively short time. But it’s been an eventful time. And I’ve been away a lot. So I guess, you know…”
“Oh. Oh. ” Recognition dawned on Shady’s face. “Oh, Fluttershy. Is that was this is about? Shhh.” She cooed. A hoof reached down to catch the underside of Fluttershy’s chin, gently lifting her head from the ground. Only once it was level did Shady plant a kiss on her forehead, nuzzling up against her coat. She laughed. “You gave me a bit of a start there. But it’s okay. I know.”
“You… do?” Fluttershy hesitantly pulled away.
“Of course. You have been at war for many years! Almost as long as we’ve been married. It changes a pony. You meet new ponies. Sisters in arms.” She wrapped a leg around Fluttershy’s shoulder, and gestured at Twilight. “And the Princess is obviously jealous.”
“I am-!” Twilight stammered. “So not jealous!” Her hoof stamped. “And you cut your hair like a stallion! That’s dumb and confusing!”
Shady smiled, revealing her two little fangs. “You see? There’s nothing to confess.” She nosed against Fluttershy again. “I won’t say I was looking forward to this day. But with you at war so long… well. I knew it would happen.”
“Oh… you did?” Fluttershy’s ears perked up. “And, you’re not mad?”
“Well, I’m not happy, but…” Shady let out a long breath. “Well, we all make sacrifices for those we care about. And really, a Princess! It’s not like you could have done better. Now how about you come in? I’ll make that tea you like and get to meet your lover.”
“Woah woah! No!” Twilight spread her hooves. “No, Shady! That is not the direction this is going!” She looked at Fluttershy. “Tell her.”
“Shady…” Fluttershy took a deep breath. Steeled herself. A squeak escaped her. “I’m leaving you.”
Shady stared. Gaped. “What?”
“I never wanted to marry you. My family just pushed me into it. And…” Fluttershy tightened her frame, shivering as she pulled away. “I can’t deal with anymore.”
“No no. Fluttershy. Shhh.” Shady took a quick step forward and brushed Fluttershy’s mane with her hoof. “Shhh. No no. Please. Don’t be afraid. Whatever this is, we’ll fix it. Just… just don’t be…” She looked between Fluttershy and Twilight. Then her eyes settled on the princess, and narrowed, the slits in them tightening until they were nearly lines. “You. You made her say this.”
“I did not!” Twilight insisted. “She’s felt that way for years.”
“Oh, sure. She’s felt that way for years, never said a word, but suddenly comes out now that you’re here!?” Shady bellowed. Another two sharp steps brought her face to face with Twilight, her fangs barred. Twilight stumbled back, and the two ended up in the street. “It wasn’t enough to sleep with another pony’s wife while they’re at war, you had to make sure you had her all to yourself!?”
“Woah woah!” Twilight backed up another step, her own eyes narrowing. “It—no. It is not like that. Fluttershy and I aren’t together . And I didn’t make her leave you. She doesn’t love you, Shady!”
“And she does love you, is that it!?” Shady bellowed, another sharp step pushing Twilight back. Her fangs bared, and a low hiss escaped her throat. “Enough to hang around by your side while you go marry the money-and-title from Cloudsdale? Fluttershy is a beautiful creature. She needs to be free. You can’t own her!”
“I don’t want to own her!” Twilight bellowed back. “I told you, we’re not like that! And she is free! And now that she’s free she certainly doesn’t want to be with you anymore, does she?”
“You wife-stealing HARLOT!” Shady launched herself at Twilight, her hoof colliding with the side of Twilight’s face. Ponies gasped and stared as the two went down in a pile. Hooves swung, hair was pulled, sharp knees were applied to unprepared ribcages. A cloud of dislodged feathers floated around them as the two neighed and whinnied at each other, until finally, a purple light shone out of the grapple.
“That’s enough!” Twilight shouted, a purple glow surrounding Shady and lifting her high off the ground. Bruised and scraped, Twilight stumbled back to her hooves, sucking down a number of long, deep breaths. “Shady Sands, your marriage to Fluttershy is a farce and it always was! She doesn't love you, and she needs to be with somepony who loves her.”
Twilight lifted off the ground and spread her wings in her best impression of Princess Luna, her voice booming and ringing out so loud that all of Ponyville was woken from their beds. “And so by the power invested in me by the monarchy, by the power of Harmony, and by all of Equestria, and declare your marriage to Fluttershy null and void! Now get out of my town!”
Twilight’s horn shone, and Shady Sands vanished with a pop and a flash of light.
Twilight settled back to the ground, catching her breath. She looked around to make sure everypony was alright. Fluttershy was hyperventilating and would obviously need a hug, but she didn’t seem like she’d gotten hurt. There were quite a lot of bystanders around, but nopony had been close enough to the fight to catch a stray blow. And there was Princess Cadence, and Shining Armor, and her parents, all staring.
They seemed fine too.
Princess Pile Drinking Games
I've always loved the idea of a hive-mind as a story concept, but I'm often irked by the way it's implemented. Why, when you average a large number of fairly nice people, is the result a sociopathic and emotionless all-consuming terror? Surely, if you took a group of people and put them all together, the result would at least generally bear the traits of its component parts?
Particularly if those parts were colorful cartoon ponies.
Rarity nibbled on Rainbow Dash’s ear. Rainbow touched Rarity’s face. Rarity sniffed Rainbow’s mane, and Rainbow did the same to her. They faced each other, and pretended they were a mirror, mimicking each other's motions perfectly. And all the while, they giggled like school fillies, in on some fantastic joke the rest of the world didn’t share.
Ponies stared, of course. They were making quite a scene, and while they weren’t exactly in the center of the market, but they weren’t alone either. The road connecting Carousel Boutique and Twilight’s castle was busy enough that they typically had a crowd of a half-dozen or so onlookers, first children, then their concerned parents, then Twilight herself.
“Are they in love?” asked one little filly of her Princess, pointing at Rarity and Rainbow Dash shared a passionate kiss. Her mother pulled her away.
“Being in love doesn’t make you act like that ,” opined a passing pegasus. “You ask me, they’re stoned out of their minds.”
Twilight frowned, for neither theory seemed particularly likely to her. But they were her friends, and so she approached them, and called out: “Rarity! Rainbow Dash. What are you two doing?”
They ignored her, continuing to act out by the roadside. Their kiss broken, they stared into eachothers eyes, and then took turns examining each other's hooves in great detail. “Rarity,” Twilight repeated. “Rainbow Dash!” she called. Still, no answer, until she stomped forward, raised her voice and bellowed right into Rarity’s ear: “Hey! ”
Both of them leapt backwards in shock, each scrambling half a step away from Twilight. It took them a moment to recover, but their expressions of shock soon faded into looks of recognition: “Oh, hello, Twilight,” Rainbow Dash said. “I’m sorry, were you trying to get my attention? I got a bit distracted.”
They both smiled. “Darling ,” Rainbow Dash added, producing another fit of giggles.
“What is up with you two?” Twilight demanded, irritation and confusion running through her tone in equal measure. “You didn’t eat some of Tree Hugger’s special brownies, did you?”
“Nah,” Rarity said, shaking her hoof as though to brush away the matter. “Sorry, I was just… well. It’s actually all rather hard to explain. But you recall that time Spike brought me that magical book from the old ruins?”
“It would be hard for me to forget,” Twilight grumbled. “I spent three whole days undoing what you did.”
“And I said I was sorry!” Rainbow spread a hoof and her wings to emphasize the gesture. “But well, you see, I was doing some exploration out there, looking for some inspiration in the tapestries, when I found this.”
Rarity floated an ancient, heavily bound tome out of her bag, and floated it over to Twilight. Twilight hesitated and took it, flipping open it’s heavy cover. “The end of walls, the end of names, the end of life, the death of claims. Let my chains be devoured and…” Her muzzle scrunched up, and it was with considerably more caution in her voice that she kept reading. “...and by your power set me free. Let my borders be as the sky and let me dwell in every welcoming home.”
Twilight swallowed, and shut the book quickly. “Rarity, this is dark magic. This is serious dark magic. Tell me you did not cast this.”
“I…” Rainbow Dash scratched the back of her head. “Fully admit, it wasn’t my brightest move. But I egged me on and, well. Here we are! I’m not actually sure exactly what it did. But there’s just this sense of newness about everything. Like you never really look at your own face, you know?”
Twilight paused. “Rainbow Dash?”
Both of them looked puzzled. “Sorry,” Rarity said. “I don’t quite follow.”
“Rainbow Dash,” Twilight looked firmly at her pegasus friend.
“Yeah… sorry. No. I still don’t get it.” Rainbow Dash scrunched up her muzzle. “What do rainbows have to do with this?”
“That’s your name!” Twilight’s voice rose, and her eyes flicked between her friends. “Your name is Rainbow Dash.”
“Uh… no? Not ringing a bell.” Rarity shook her head.
Twilight whirled on her. “Not you! Did you two…” Her eyes grew wide, and she glanced back at the spellbook. She went quiet, and it was with a pleading voice that she asked: “Did you two switch bodies or something?”
“Twilight… are you alright?” Rainbow Dash spoke, but both of them looked concerned for her. “I don’t know who else you think is involved with his, or who these “Rarity” and “Rainbow Dash” characters are, but…” Each of them gestured at the other. “There’s only one of me here.”
“No! Is there a reason it should seem odd!?” Rarity snorted and spread her hooves wide, while Rainbow Dash just put her hoof over her face and let out a long sigh. “I’ve been telling all of you for years that my life’s dream was to open a boutique in Canterlot while being a member of the Wonderbolts. Why should that change now?”
“So you don’t feel any…” Twilight made a vague gesture their way with a hoof. “Any different. You actually have no idea what the rest of us are upset about.”
“I mean, okay, sure,” Rainbow Dash said, “I’m a little confused about some stuff that’s happened today? Like, I talked to myself a lot this morning and I swear it made sense at the time. So that’s a little weird, yeah, but don’t blow it out of proportion!”
Princess Pile Drinking Games
Because sometimes you just want a sad immortal Twilight fic, even if you know that genre is terrible. Sadtwi is the literary equiviliant of eating an entire jumbo tub of popcorn instead of a meal.
That is to say, delicious.
“I want a funeral.”
Princess Celestia paused for several moments, her entire body going still as though frozen in its own little bubble of time. She elected then to finish her biscuit and then nodded to Twilight, as though what she’d just heard was the most normal thing in the world.
“Are you dying?” she asked, careful to keep her tone one of mild curiosity.
“You know I’m not,” Twilight said, a bit of an indignant grumble in her words.
“Then you must suspect that somepony intends to kill you.” Celestia’s words were smooth, the fragments of uncertainty she’d shown earlier hidden away. Canterlot palace was her home, afternoon tea her private domain, and masterful calm her natural gift, even if Twilight had momentarily caught her off guard.
“No. I made friends with Equestria’s last villain a month ago.” Twilight sighed, swirling her hoof as thought to hurry the conversation along. “And she wasn’t even really a villain! She was just a very stern bicycle enthusiast who also happened to practice necromancy, but that wasn’t like, her thing.”
“Suicide?”
“No. Yes. Well, kind of.” Twilight made an elaborate gesture with her hooves, visibly struggling to find the words. “Like, yes, because there’s going to be a funeral and everypony should go ‘oh it’s so sad she died.’ But without the part where my heart stops and my soul leaves my body and I start to stink. So you know. Metaphorical suicide.”
Celestia considered this for a moment, sipping her tea to stall for time. “So essentially,” she said, pausing for emphasis as she returned her cup to the table. “You’d like to have a rather somber party where everypony comes and says nice things about you. While you listen from the casket, presumably?”
“No!” Twilight’s ears shot up, and her shoulders lifted with the very thought. “Well, I mean, okay, yes to the first part, but you can’t attend your own funeral. How narcissistic would that be? No, I mean…” She took a deep breath, her eyes slipping from Celestia’s face and down to the table. “I’d just like it if you declared me dead of natural causes and then we had a funeral so everypony could move on, and then I was going to change my name and move to Baltimare.”
Again, Celestia nodded: “Why Baltimare?”
“I’ve heard it’s nice and the rent is cheap.” Twilight scrunched her wings and tail up against herself, seeming to wilt under Celestia’s gaze. The sun princess offered her no respite, staring down at her student. “I was going to dye my coat,” Twilight mumbled. “And I made a spell to hide my horn so everypony will think I’m a pegasus.”
Celestia raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t know. What do you want me to say?” Twilight scrunched up her muzzle, her words coming faster. “That all my friends have had funerals and I feel left out? Because I do. I’m not suicidal, but it is kind of a mortals-only party. But that’s not the only party Princesses get left out of.”
She shook her hoof sharply, and managed to lift her head to Celestia, her voice tight as she went on. “There’s just so much going on in Equestria right now. So much change and innovation and social issues that are getting worked out, and I can’t be a part of that from the top of the pile. I can’t even see most of it. A teenager is not going to crack jokes about her student loan problems with royalty, and buisnessponies won’t be honest with the mare who sets their taxes. I want to be a part of the world again.”
Twilight took a deep breath, and abruptly let it out: “And I’m bored, okay? I’ve been a princess for nearly a hundred years. I think I’ve got a pretty good handle on it. I’m ready to buy a smartphone and take an unpaid internship and learn what social media is.”
“You could do all that as a Princess,” Celestia observed. “Nopony is stopping you.”
“I’m stopping me.” Twilight snorted, and turned her head away.
Celestia considered that for some time.
“I think,” she finally said, “I will tell them I poisoned your tea with a vile draught that pulled you into an eternal sleep. Cureable only by a hero who is pure of heart.”
Twilight looked back.
“Well,” Celestia said, her tone practical. “We need some way to bring you back to life after you get bored of mortality again.”
Princess Pile Drinking Games
I'm back, baby! After a long dry spell dealing with writer's block, I'm back in the game with two entries in the "True Colors" writeoff contest that I'm very happy with. Both of them are, I think, eventually going to be turned into their own proper long-form stories. But since that takes time, in the meanwhile, here's the first entry in full: "The Truth Hurts."
It's a little story about measuring that which is valuable, and about valuing that which is measured.
When Rarity sat at her desk for the evening, she didn’t have high expectations. She was no great magical scholar, and creating a truly new spell was a feat that even prodigies like Twilight would be blessed to accomplish twice in their careers. By all rights, it promised to be a waste of an evening. And yet, she carried on.
Her magical reference books were laid out before her. Her more elegant glasses rested over her muzzle. Candles were lit. She’d had one glass of wine already and left another on her desk to sip. Briefly, she reflected on the fact that the proper conditions for magical study and the proper conditions for traditional romance were strikingly similar.
Her reasons for that attempt were complicated. Part of it was simple vanity—Rarity often had a high opinion of herself. Part of it was humble expectations, for the spell she sought to create was quite simple in its function. Part of it was curiosity about what the attempt would be like, and a desire to brush off magical training she hadn’t used since her schoolfilly days.
But a part of it was something deeper. It was cultural tradition. It was identity . Some unicorns are great sages, and some unicorns are dentists or dressmakers, but every unicorn thinks they’re a wizard. Research knew no nobility, and anypony with a curious mind had the potential to discover something great. One never knew where the next great discovery might come from.
Far into her research, as the candles burned low, Rarity paused. She squinted at the page.
Her eyes went wide.
“TWILIGHT!” Hours later, rarity pounded on the castle doors, shouting up at the windows far above. It was well past midnight, and the stars were out. Rarity’s voice echoed far through Ponyville’s silent streets, and a few lights even came on in its wake. “Twilight, you open this door right now!”
“Okay, okay!” From inside the castle’s entranceway, Twilight yanked the double doors open with her magic, pulling Rarity inside in the same motion. Her mane was a mess, her face creased and her eyes bloodshot. “Is something wrong?” she asked, squinting through the haze. “Is Ponyville under attack?”
“No, Twilight. I’ve discovered something.” Rarity stood breathless and panting, gesturing wildly with a foreleg as she spoke. “I was researching a new spell, and I think I found something wondrous! I need to use your library.”
“You woke me up at 3:30 in the morning because you were doing magical research and it just… couldn’t wait?” Twilight scrunched up her face. “I have really mixed feelings about this.”
“Yes yes. You’re an adorable bookworm. But seriously , Twilight, look at this.” Rarity held up a giant mass of loose paper and parchment in front of her. Twilight could only assume it was her notes. “You know the old philosophy problem of color. Is my color red the same as your color red. That old thing?”
“Sure.” Twilight sighed. She took a moment to rub her eyes, trying to work some of the sleep stuff out of them. “It’s an illustrative question about the subjective nature of perception.”
“Well, I was working on a spell to help me more elegantly blend colors for my fall dresses, and…” Rarity took a deep breath. Her whole body tensed up. “I solved it!”
“You… solved it?” Twilight frowned.
“Yes!” Rarity let out a loud squeak of joy. “I realized that our existing collection of color-altering spells only make sense if color is an objective quantity in the universe, and that you can measure to what extent an individual's personal perceptions align with that reading! Not only can we measure if your red is the same as my red, we can determine how close each of us is to real red!”
Twilight stared. She laughed. Her hoof went to her face. “Okay… Rarity. It’s not a solvable problem. Like, not it isn’t solvable because it’s hard. It isn’t solvable because it doesn’t even make sense to say you solved it. The point of the problem is that perception is subjective , so you can’t measure-”
“Oh for goodness sake!” Rarity grabbed Twilight with one leg, and held her notes with the other. She pulled the two together, until Twilight was face to face with her scribbles. “Read.”
“Ow! Rarity! Okay, this has…” Twilight trailed off as one of Rarity’s diagrams caught her eye. “Wait. Why would you…” She separated some of the pages. She stared. She read. “Oh, that’s… clever. That’s…”
Finally, Twilight let out a soft: “Huh.”
And so it came to pass that color was objectively verifiable. With nothing more than a color wheel and a guide to basic spellcasting, any competent unicorn could measure a pony’s chromatic perception. It became a quite popular parlor trick, and many a pony enjoyed learning precisely how well their notion of color corresponded with that of their neighbors.
As it became more popular however, other discoveries followed. Those who were gifted in the visual arts nearly always had perceptions that closely aligned with objective reality, while those whose perceptions deviated were far more likely to purchase salmon wallpaper or unironically dress in neon. The facts were clear, and because the ponies who compiled those facts had excellent perception, the facts were also arrayed in visually pleasing color-coordinated graph and charts. Something had to be done.
Thus, Twilight invented a technique for enchanting lenses such that they could correct color like normal lenses corrected focus. All a pony had to do was slip on a pair, and they would know with certainty that their perception of reality aligned with the truth, and that their fears of unknowingly being a tasteless clod were at best only partially justified. They became so popular that schools started giving them away to fillies and colts before art class, and red-and-black hair dye became an endangered species. It was a glorious time.
Then, Cadance got involved. She was part unicorn too, after all.
The color-correcting glasses craze had reached the Crystal Empire, and Cadance’s subjects could finally confirm what they’d always known—that their sense of color coordination was amazing and that Equestria didn’t have nothin’ on them. But the very idea of objectively measuring what was once a subject of perception tickled Cadance’s fancy, and she set to work at her own desk, with her own candles, and with her own two glasses of wine. And she made something.
It measured love. Or, more accurately, the potential for love. Cadance had been able to do it for years, so it was just a matter of replicating her natural powers into a simple enchanted object. One pony held one end of a wire, and the other pony held the other end of the wire, and the meter in the middle went “foop” and “bing.” Then, a card came out of the slot in the top.
Cadance tested it with Shining Armor, and the card read: “True Love.” Then, she tested it with Flash Sentry, and it read: “Not that into you, but will pretend to be in the hope of a threesome with your husband.” That was when she knew she had a winner.
The romamoeter, or “love meter” for the masses, was an instant hit in Equestria. Speed dating had never been speeder or more accurate. No longer did ponies have to go through the complex back and forth of dating, courtship, ritual. They could just sit across a table, each grab a wire, read the resulting card, and thank their lucky stars they dodged that disaster. It was such a simple, practical device.
Some ponies thought the concept could go even further.
“Twilight!” Applejack roared. Her hoof hit Twilight’s door and took it clear off its hinges, sending the two shattered halves of the gateway back into the castle foyer. As she stormed inside, Twilight appeared up the hall and gaped.
“Applejack,” she called. Her eyes were wide. “You broke down my door!?”
“I knocked .” Applejack growled. “It’s the traditional way earth ponies knock on castle doors,” she got into Twilight’s face, muzzle to muzzle, “when they are extremely angry with the unicorns living inside.”
“Well technically I’m an alicorn…” Twilight squeaked. Applejack growled. Twilight broke out in a cold sweat. “But you know, point made. What’s bothering you, very good friend of mine who would never do violence to another good friend?”
“This .” Applejack pulled a piece of paper from her saddlebags, shoving it towards Twilight. Twilight took in from her, studying her.
“Applebloom’s… report card?” She frowned. “What does this have to do with me?”
“Because it’s not a report card for her . It’s a report card about her. Specifically, about how good a job I’m doing raising her!” Applejack tapped her chest with a hoof, her voice rising from a humble shout to a full-throated bellow. “They say that you discovered that a happy childhood is objectively measureable from brainwaves, and so now all the kids are getting their heads scanned so their parents can learn what they’re doing wrong!”
“Oh. Um… gosh.” Twilight’s eyes flicked back and forth between Applejack and the paper. “It looks like they gave you a B-. I mean, that’s pretty-”
Applejack took a step forward, until her muzzle pressed into Twilight’s. “They said I was raising her to be resistant to change . Can you believe that!? They told me to try being more open to new things, Twilight! ”
“Oh, uh…” Twilight croaked. “I mean, that’s obviously wrong…”
“Yer gul-darn right it is!” Her hoof hit the floor hard enough to leave cracks. “My great grandpappy was open to change, and my grandpappy was open to change, and my pa was open to change, and that means I’m open to change, and darned if I’m going to hear some fancy machine tell me otherwise!”
“Yes. Yes. You know. That’s a very good point.” Twilight nodded quickly. “I will talk to the school and get this sorted out right away.”
“You do that! I’m telling you, Twilight. This craze has gone too far. Ponies won’t stand for it no more! You get that sorted right now, or I swear I’m gonna go sort it for you.” She snorted and stormed away, pausing only briefly on her way out to repair Twilight’s door in full. It was just neighborly.
Twilight needed a few minutes to breathe after the encounter. Then, she hurried outside and into the streets of Ponyville. It was a long walk to the schoolhouse, and she saw things on the way there.
She saw red slips affixed to doors. While beauty did take many forms, it was objectively measureable, and so the city had done away with its complicated zoning laws. Instead, they passed a simpler law, that ponies' homes could not be more than 20% ugly by mass. The assessment was made by automated pulchriograph, and notices left for the offenders.
She saw a bookstore owner putting up a new sign in his window. “90% of everything is terrible,” it said, “and we now carry just the other 10%! All books now biblometer filtered. Guaranteed compelling and well-written! Plus textbooks.” A giant pile of books filled the dumpster behind the shop. Mostly self-help books and fantasy novels with sultry mares on the cover.
She saw a pony comparing apples and oranges. He didn’t have a fancy machine to do it or anything. It was actually pretty straightforward. And in retrospect, it always had been.
Then, she saw that Barnyard Bargains was having a 2:1 sale on pitchforks, torches, and looting sacks. Ponies had formed a long line that stretched around the block, and were chatting amicably as they waited. Parents had brought their foals to try things out before they bought them.
She sighed. “Ah, ponyfeathers.”
The riot burned itself out eventually. Mostly because Ponyville had run out of things to burn and/or steal. The townsponies thought it was a great time. Everypony got lots of exercise, worked some aggression out of the system, and little Dinky Do got to run around wearing her neon-pink “Anarchy Now” mask. She even sprinted around the square lighting the most objectively beautiful buildings on fire, and screamed “No gods, no masters!” so high her voice cracked, which everypony agreed was adorable.
Of course, the pulchriograph was the first thing to be burned, along with the little red notices. Then the biblometers went, and the machines that detected if children were happy, and the little dating device that went “foop” and “bing.” Then went the town hall that contained laws about beauty, and the school that thought it could send snippy letters to parents. And finally went the glasses that corrected color, and the fumes from their chemical flames formed a beautiful rainbow that stretched high into the sky.
Twilight’s castle was spared. Partially because it was non-flammable, and partially because of Spike’s shocking and unexpected aptitude for street brawling. And so it came in time to pass that Twilight and Rarity sat on the castle porch, and together watched the sun rise over the smoking and blacked remains of Ponyville.
“Thank you again for letting me use your guest room,” Rarity said. The Carousel Boutique was currently a vaguely circular pile of timbers and burnt fabric. “I’m… sorry. I got this whole thing started.”
“Oh, it’s… nothing.” Twilight waved her off. “And, don’t be. You just made the discovery. I was the one who started with a practical application.”
“Somepony else would have thought of it if you didn’t.” Rarity said. Twilight shrugged, and the two lapsed into a long silence as they watched the town.
“Did we just go too quickly?” Twilight finally asked. “Could this have worked if we’d been more patient? Or do ponies just not want to hear the truth? Maybe we just prefer to believe it’s all subjective?”
“Ponyville isn’t the whole world, Twilight -- much as it often feels that way. The craze is still going strong in Canterlot. So I wouldn’t make judgements as to the character of the whole pony race just yet.”
“Yeah, but…” Twilight gestured out at the town. “You know what I mean. In a sense, isn’t this… moving backwards? Embracing our worst nature?”
“I’m not sure much changed, actually.” Rarity sat back, drawing in a deep breath. “Take fashion, for instance. Oh, we didn’t measure it with machines, but it was never really that subjective. There was and is such a thing as good and bad taste. But even if I could somehow get away with it, I wouldn’t tell every customer in the boutique what they have to wear. Because it’s not just about objective beauty. It’s about…”
She gestured high into the air, and let her hoof fall back to her side. “Self expression. It’s not about what clothes are best. It’s about what the clothes say . And sure, maybe sometimes what they say is that the wearer is colorblind, but isn’t that just admitting something true about ourselves?”
“So what are you saying?” Twilight asked. “That the perfectly quantified, objectively perfect town is the real lie? That this is the honest Ponyville?”
Rarity shrugged. “Take a look for yourself. They’re already rebuilding the town -- rebuilding it the way they want it to look. It’s a rare moment of mass, pure creative expression, and the new town will, I think, reflect the true desires of its inhabitants.”
Twilight sat up in her chair. She squinted down at some of the new buildings, already under construction.
Finally, she came to a realization. “They look awful .”
“Like the south end of a horse going north,” Rarity agreed.
“Gosh, that’s just an eyesore.” Twilight flinched. “Hey, if you’re going to be my guest for a few days anyway, you want to just take a trip to Canterlot until this all blows over? I heard the palace now has the most objectively comfortable beds ever constructed.”
“Oh, certainly!” Rarity said. She refilled her and Twilight’s glasses of wine, and they clinked the two together. “That sounds way better than self-expression. Cheers!”
And it really was.
Princess Pile Drinking Games
Princess Pile Drinking Games
While trying to come up with an entry for a writeoff, I started a fic called Truth . In it, Princess Celestia, Twilight, Luna, and Cadence are all relaxing and playing a drinking game, but when Princess Celestia gets a bit roundhoofed and says something she shouldn't, the conversation suddenly turns serious. I decided not to finish the fic for a variety of reasons (the premise had more holes than I thought), but I did get a good bit of the way through the intro before I reconsidered. And so now, for your enjoyment, princesses playing drinking games.
There is a game that ponies play called Circle of Truth, and its rules are very simple. A group of friends sit in a circle and take turns asking eachother questions ranging from the amusing to the embarrassing. Whenever a player answers, the other players have the option of accusing her of lying, and she must then reveal if she was telling the truth. If she was, everyone who accused her of lying has to drink. If she wasn’t, everyone who believed her has to drink. And then the next turn goes.
Each pony race has their own version of the game, varying in the fine details. For instance, the earth pony version of the game is called Cider Talk, and the turn order proceeds clockwise. By contrast, the pegasus version of the game is called Four Winds, and the turn order is determined by who drinks first. The unicorn variant is called Coven, and turn order is determined by horn length, usually measured with a bit of innuendo and giggling. It is that sort of game.
But while details of the rules may be of interest to sociologists and historians, the essential nature of the game is unchanged. It is a way to relax around ponies, to get to know them better, and to come closer to them as friends.
And so, when the recently crowned Princess Twilight Sparkle was invited to play with her three fellow royals, it was all she could do not to squeal with joy.
“Mmm,” Princess Celestia said, at the start of the game’s fourth round. She was sitting comfortably on a bed of pillows next to the fire, occasionally snacking from a bowl of apple slices situated nearby. She’d done particularly poorly in the early rounds, having overestimated Twilight’s innocence, underestimated Cadence’s, and incorrectly assumed that she knew all of Luna’s tells. She didn’t mind losing though, and there was a smile on her face as she searched the room for a target.
“Luna.” Celestia picked her target with a soft word and a faint nudge of her muzzle. “My dear sister.” She smiled. “As a shapeshifter, what is the most embarrassing request to change your form you’ve ever granted?”
Luna kept a good poker face as she pretended to mull the matter over, taking the time to examine the face of her fellow players. All four of them were in one of the royal lounges of Canterlot Palace, seated comfortably in a rough circle. Celestia was next to the fire on a pile of pillows. To her left was Twilight, legs tucked under her upon a broad and soft cushion. Next was Cadence, stretched out on a particularly comfortable looking divan. Last, on Celestia’s right, was Luna. She was sprawled out over a dark purple bean bag, a device she had earlier cheerfully declared a wonder of the modern era.
Luna licked her lips, and reached down with her magic to take another oat from the bowl. With deliberate slowness, she held it between her teeth, and then slowly crunched as she mulled the matter over.
“When I first had occasion to meet Twilight’s parents,” Luna spoke, just that opening enough to prompt a nervous grin on Twilight’s face, “her father requested I turn into an earth pony because, and I quote.” Luna turned her smirking face on Celestia. “‘I already get in enough trouble when Princess Celestia visits. It is not my fault her hips are at eye level.’”
Cadence burst out giggling, almost losing her glass as her concentration on her magic momentarily wavered, Twilight quickly found something in the carpet to stare at, the nervous grin on her face advancing to a deep blush. Luna and Celestia both smiled, but it was clear to everypony involved that they were taking careful stock of each other.
“I fail to see how that’s embarrassing for you,” Celestia said evenly, lifting her chin slightly as she considered her sister.
“You didn’t say it had to be embarrassing for me ,” Luna answered, holding Celestia’s gaze. Celestia waited for a few long seconds, her eyes slowly narrowing.
“Lie,” Celestia said.
“Truth!” Cadence rose her voice, giggling again as she lifted her glass. “Don’t be ashamed, Celestia. Those hips of yours have strained many a marriage.”
“Ooooh.” Twilight groaned. “I don’t want it to be true, but with my dad... oh. No. Not even he’s that tactless.” She scrunched up her muzzle, and lifted her face. “Lie.”
Luna grinned. “The Princess of Love doth speak wisely about all matters of romance, including my sister’s hips. Truth!”
Twilight groaned and lifted a hoof to her face, as Celestia’s melodious giggle joined Cadence’s. “Dad.” Slowly she dragged her hoof down her face and the back to the floor. “Kill me now,” she said, in a truly wretched tone.
“Oh, don’t feel bad Twilight,” Cadence said, stretching her wings out as she sought to get comfortable. “You’d be hard pressed to find a stallion in the city who hasn’t checked that out.”
“If you’re quite finished?” Celestia asked, and though her words were a bit pointed, they kept their good humor.
“She has only just begun!” Luna proclaimed energetically, lifting a leg in emphasis. “For if memory serves, you and Twilight must now drink. And when you do, I have a question for our lovely crystal princess.”
Celestia gave a good natured sigh and levitated her glass, directing it Twilight’s way. “Cheers,” she offered. Twilight returned the gesture, and their glasses clinked together. It only took one good sip to empty Celestia’s, though Cadence was quick to refill it.
“Now then,” Luna said, turning a predatory eye on Cadence. “Princess of Love, tell us: Before you married Shining Armor, precisely how many stallions and mares had you been with?”
“Oh my gosh, that is so unfair,” Cadence, rolled her eyes and let her head slump to the pillows. “I’m the princess of romantic love. True love! The deep spiritual bond between two ponies who care about eachother.” She held her forelegs in close to her underside, emphasizing her heart. “Why does everypony assume I’m a whore?”
“Because you’re evading the question,” Celestia replied without missing a beat.
“Indeed. Thine guilt is as plain to see as thy suggestively unshorn fetlocks,” Luna said, her amusement running through her words.
“Celestia! Luna. That’s not fair,” Twilight said, nodding Cadence’s way. “Besides, it’s not true. Cadence is a class act.”
“Thank you, Twilight,” Cadence answered firmly, turning to Celestia and Luna. “Two , if you really want to know that bad.”
“Lie,” Celestia and Luna spoke together at once.
“Truth!” Twilight insisted, looking expectantly at Cadence. Cadence only blushed though, and looked awkwardly at the pillows.
“Um...” she glanced at Twilight, then at the floor. “Well, this is awkward. Sorry, Twilight. You know Shining is my one true love. It’s just a little embarrassing to admit...”
Twilight looked bashful as well, but managed a smile. “It’s okay, Cadence. I take it the real number is higher than two?”
“Well...” Cadence flicked her tail. “It has a two in it.”
Twilight froze, her tail and ears going stock still. After a moment, she managed to ask: “Twelve?”
“Nope.” Cadence shook her head.
“Twenty?” Twilight’s mouth fell open. But Cadance shook her head. “But... in the twenties?”
“Just a hair past—”
“Thirty two!?” Twilight shot to her hooves, as Luna’s howls of laughter echoed through the room. “You slept with thirty two ponies before you married my brother!? But that... that’s like a new pony every month for three years!”
“No! No.” Cadence lifted her hooves. “Not every month. How cold would that be? I want to get to know a pony longer then that. I dated most of the ponies I knew for half a year at least. I was just... well, you know. Dating six ponies at a time.”
Luna’s laughter only grew louder as Twilight’s jaw fell open in horror. “Oh, don’t you judge me,” Cadence snorted, giving a very regal flick of her mane as she munched on another oat. “We’re herd animals. It’s natural . You’re all just really repressed.”
“Oh my... ugh!” Twilight shuddered, and then quickly took her drink. “I can’t believe it. I’m never going to get that image out of my head.”
Princess Pile Drinking Games
Siren Song Side Stories: Going Home
So, I wrote this other fic you may have heard about . It was kind of a thing, and I promised it would have side stories. Which it will! But of the three side-stories I drafted, one of them was clearly not quite as good as the others. Its title was Going Home, and it was my attempt to write a mystery. I think the mystery is okay... if you've read Siren Song. But if you haven't, you'd need to be psychic to get it.
University of Van Hoover, School of Medicine
Report of Findings
Decedent Name: CHAIN LINK
Decedent Date of Birth: Unknown
Cause of Death: Heart Failure
Date of Injury: 48th, Summer, 1045 CE (Estimated)
Autopsy performed by: Gentle Passing, MD
Death certificate signed by: Gentle Passing, MD. Go Softly, PHD, ACA.
Report:
Deceased was first examined by a coroner on the 50th day of summer in response to a request by officers of the Maypony police department for a formal investigation of what they deemed a probable death due to supernatural causes. First coroners on the scene were myself and Go Softly, arcane matters investigator. We arrived at the deceased’s residence by late evening on the 50th, the body having been discovered by officers late the previous night.
The deceased had not been moved by officers prior to our arrival, and was visible inside his residence, sprawled over the kitchen table with legs extended (see attached drawing). After Go Softly’s unicorn magic detected no immediate danger, I began my examination.
Initial examination of the body revealed a number of deformities which were the cause of the officer’s initial concern. The deceased (identified as Chain Link by officers on the scene), had visibly impacted ribs, with three distinct points of concave barrel formation. Deformed areas were surrounded by large bulges in the skin, tentatively identified on the scene as cancerous. Each point of impact was also adorned with a tattoo depicting, respectively: a crate and a set of tools, a number of abstract mathematical symbols, and a violin.
Go Softly proceeded to investigate the body for any lingering traces of magic (See attached ACA report). Initial report was negative. Further investigation of the body revealed the early onset of autolysis. Time of death was therefore estimated as two to three days prior. Officers identified a newspaper found with the subject (subsequently removed as evidence), dated two days prior. Time-of-death estimate was therefore made for the 48th of summer, likely no later than mid-morning. After consultation with Go Softly, I recommended that the body be removed to the morgue for autopsy.
Findings of autopsy, conducted later that day (see attached autopsy report), are summarized below:
At the request of the coroner’s office, further investigation into the deceased was conducted by the Maypony police department into the state of Chain Link’s health prior to his death (see attached special report). From this investigation, a number of key facts were obtained.
Questioning of the deceased’s neighbors revealed that they were unaware of any past health problems. The deceased was, by universal description, in the habit of wearing a heavy jacket at all times. No neighbor of acquaintance could cite a single incident when he removed it. While not conclusive, this does suggest that the deceased’s health problems had been present for some time, and that he took steps to conceal them.
When asked if there was anypony who might be able to confirm the state of Chain Link’s health prior to his arrival in Maypony, multiple neighbors and acquaintances confirmed that no such information was available. By mutual report, Chain Link moved into town five years ago, purchased his residence (a cottage at the edge of town) in cash, and never spoke about his life prior to his arrival. Neighbors reported that this was a source of considerable speculation and rumor, but with no actual evidence of any wrongdoing, did not seem worthy of police attention.
Deceased was generally described as affable or friendly, but was noted by neighbors as suffering from mood swings, particularly sudden bouts of anger or depression. After consultation with Head Shrink, MD, descriptions were determined to be too vague to make a meaningful assessment of possible psychiatric illness. While not conclusive, multiple neighbors did note that these incidents appeared to be growing more frequent over time.
A curious and unanticipated point emerging from the report was uncertainty as to the deceased’s age. Visual examination of the body suggested the deceased was in his early twenties, but reports from neighbors suggested figures as high as late thirties. Of particular note were insistence from multiple parties that he had looked much the same age upon his arrival five years ago (placing his actual age at a minimum of twenty-five). Deceased also, by mutual testimony, made first-person reference to events occurring more than ten years past.
The deceased was noted by neighbors as habitually drinking from a flask, despite a stated intolerance for alcohol. Police investigation of his residence did locate this flask, but it was determined to be empty.
Despite what, to an outside observer, appears to be considerable grounds for suspicion or ostracization, the deceased was evidently accepted by the community of Maypony and was considered active and welcome in civic life. This became relevant to the investigation when two correlations were discovered.
After statements from neighbors that the deceased taught violin to a number of local foals, the abrasion callouses on his left shoulder were determined to be consistent with the repeated bracing of a violin for extended periods.
Additionally, after statements from local sailors that the deceased was active in the marina and took small craft out into the harbor on a regular basis, the tools on his first tattoo were identified as longshorepony’s pikes. Stress injuries in the subject’s legs were then determined to be consistent with stress injuries suffered by longshoreponies and teamsters as a result of carrying heavy loads for extended periods. Extent of stress injuries suggests between eight and fifteen years of regular activity.
Finally, inquiries into relations and family members were negative. Neighbors did identify one of his older students, Feather Brain, as a possible source of information, stating that the deceased had always been more open with him than others, including making a gift of a sea-jacket to him before he left Maypony. Unfortunately, police were unable to locate Feather Brain.
While police investigation is ongoing, I deem the available information sufficient to asses a manner of death. Evidence suggests that the deceased died of natural causes, brought on by his obvious and extreme health problems. While an exact cause cannot be determined due to the extent of his injuries and the condition of the body, I find no evidence to suggest foul play. The deceased was clearly aware of his medical problems and took steps to conceal them. While it is possible or even likely that magic played some role in causing his condition, any such incident would have been years ago, and I deem his actual death to be mundane. In lieu of specific evidence, cause of death is assessed as heart failure.
ADDENDUM:
By the request of the Canterlot Police Department, the investigation was briefly re-opened, and all materials and reports relevant to the investigation were formally reviewed. Feather Brain’s behavior during questioning was considered “highly evasive” by the on-duty officer, which paired with his sudden departure from Maypony shortly after Chain Link’s demise, was considered ground for further investigation.
Review of relevant materials revealed no substantive grounds to alter the initial coroner’s report, and by internal review, the initial assessment of heart failure was permitted to stand. Feather Brain was able to produce adequate evidence that he had been accepted on a merit scholarship in math at Canterlot University, for which he had departed ten days prior to Chain Link’s death. The Canterlot Police Department withdrew their request, and the matter was again closed.
