Braeburn's Ascension; or, The Courtship of Pinkamena Diane Pie
Let's Start at the End, Shall We?
Love is a funny thing.
At least that’s what Pinkie Pie told herself with a smile as she waited for her turn down the aisle. She stepped on the sweet-smelling petals that Pumpkin Cake had dropped. The little flowerfilly almost did it on purpose, too. Her horn had flickered as she swung the basket back and forth, scattering her burden.
Pound Cake had followed at a more sedate pace, the pillow on his back holding the wedding bands. He fought against his cute little tuxedo, his face a storm cloud of toddler defiance. Despite all protests, he made it to the end, as did Pumpkin.
As did the bridesmares and groomsstallions. Big McIntosh, the Colt of Honor, and Maud Pie, the Best Mare, stood on opposite sides of the altar. Braeburn’s head looked bare without his hat, but he was coping with a nervous smile. Prince Blueblood stood quietly by, a large book held in one foreleg.
Pinkie’s tail twitched, but it was a good twitch. It was a twitch of anticipation, of excitement, of good things to come.
Spike cracked his knuckles and played out the first chords of the wedding march on a pipe organ. Once the next bars came up, Cheese Sandwich joined in with his accordion. They made it work somehow.
Pinkie stepped through the doors and walked between the seats. Her dress flowed around her ankles, her veil danced before her face, her smile sparkled in the camera flashes. Her blue eyes met Braeburn’s green, and his met hers. Her feet moved a little faster. Cheese and Spike sped up the march to match.
Before she knew it, she was at the altar. She was at the altar before most ponies knew it, to be honest. She had a way with just being places she was needed. She also had a way of getting places where she wasn’t wanted, but there was no doubt she was wanted that day.
Blueblood harrumphed as officiously as he could. The phlegm got caught midway up his throat, so he spent the next couple seconds hacking and wheezing and thumping his chest. Most ponies started shuffling around as the noise continued, but Pinkie and Braeburn were locked on each other.
“Ahem. Sorry about that. Yes! Well then.” Blueblood opened the book and began to read. “Family and friends, ponies and otherwise, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Braeburn Apple—”
Blueblood was interrupted by a chorus of hoots and hollers from the Apple side of the assembly. Hats were tossed into the air alongside whoops. Ponies resisted the urge to jump into the aisle and dance. Mothers cried and fathers wept great tears.
Blueblood cleared his throat with much more success than the previous time. “And Pinkamena Diane Pie.” He paused, expecting another series of cheers. When none came, he looked to the Pie side of the assembly. A wall of solemn faces greeted him.
“Yay, Pinkie,” Fluttershy whispered. “Woo hoo.”
Blueblood’s lips drooped down. “Alright then. Please present the bands.”
Pound Cake was busy punching the candlesticks with his tiny hooves. Big McIntosh scooped him up and gave him a light noogie. While the colt was distracted, Maud slid the gold bands off the pillow and handed them to Blueblood.
He lifted the bands in a bubble of magic. “Each of these closed circles represents a pony. Individual. Strong. Precious. Beautiful.” He handed a ring to the bride and the groom. He looked to Braeburn. “Braeburn Apple, do you take Pinkie Pie to be your beloved wife? To give and to grow? To love and to laugh? To share and to care?”
Pinkie Pie snorted.
“As long as you both live in this life?” Blueblood finished.
“Ah do,” Braeburn said. He fiddled with the ring between his hooves.
“And do you, Pinkie,” Blueblood said, “take Braeburn Apple to be your beloved husband? To give and to grow? To love and to laugh? To share and to care? As long as you both live in this life?”
“I do!” Pinkie said.
“Please hold out the wedding bands.” Blueblood flipped a page. “When two ponies come together, it is like two bands looped around each other. Forever linked. Forever side-by-side. Forever one.”
They took the rings and pressed them together. There was a hum, a pop, and a flash. The two wedding bands were linked together like a chain.
“Ladies and gentlecolts,” Blueblood said, “I am proud to introduce you, for the first time, to Mister and Missus Braeburn Apple-Pie.” He smiled. “You may kiss the bride.”
***
“But wait!” you might ask. “What is this about a wedding? Was not the story called The Courtship of Pinkamena Diane Pie? Where is the courtship? Where is the buildup? Where is the emotional stress and the constant suspense of whether or not they’ll seal the deal? What good does it do to start the story at the end?”
Rest assured, dear and perceptive reader, that there will be suspense. There will be excitement. However, this story is not about whether or not Pinkie and Braeburn will tie the knot. Nor is it about whether they live happily ever after in marital bliss. No, this story is a bit simpler than all that.
This story is about the ponies Pinkie Pie loves and those who love her in turn. It just so happens that one of those others is named Braeburn.
Very well, though. Now that we’ve started at the end, it will do us good to cover the beginning. Specifically, the whole “Braeburn’s Ascension” angle. Why should you care about that loud pony from Appleloosa?
Well, I can’t answer that question for you, but I can explain how he got his wings…
***
Sand blew across the barren landscape. Bare, that is, except for one lone stallion.
And those rock formations to the left. And the cacti to the right, rear, and center. And the herd of buffalo rampaging across some ancestral burial grounds or other. And the tumbleweed frolicking past the stallion’s steely gaze.
The not quite lone stallion bent down close to the ground and sniffed. He sneezed out the resulting nostril-full of sand. He adjusted his cowpony hat and nodded. “They’re close. Real close.”
Hoof prints in the sand didn’t last very long, but a scar on the side of the cactus to the right decried a recent puncture. A harvest of one of the few sources of water available to a lost traveler or two. It was barely a day old.
He jerked his vest tighter around his shoulders. He slung back his canteen and then galloped across the harsh landscape. He veered to the side, noting the scrap of fabric caught in the nearby rocky outcropping. He skidded to a halt when he almost collided with another stallion running the opposite direction.
The stallions narrowed their eyes. The first held out a hoof. “Howdy, friend!”
“Howdy, stranger,” the newcomer replied. His shoulders shifted beneath a colorful poncho. “What’s a prettyboy like you doing around these parts?”
“Ah’m searchin’ fer a caravan, missed their stop at Appleloosa!” The first stallion quite nearly shouted the name of his hometown. “That tends to happen on account of emergencies and the like. Figured they needed relief. Why? What’re you doin’ out here alone?”
The newcomer sighed. He looked off into the distance with lowered eyelids. “I ain’t alone. I always have my best friend right beside me.”
“Oh,” the Appleloosan said. “Oh, that’s… well, ah’m sorry fer—”
“No, literally, he’s right here.” The newcomer pulled a rubber chicken from his saddlebags. “This is Boneless. Say hello, Boneless.”
The rubber chicken squeaked.
The Appleloosan’s eyes jumped from the chicken to the pony and back to the chicken. He began to wonder just what kinda character he’d chanced to meet. “H-hay, Boneless. Um. Who’s yer friend, here?”
The newcomer pressed his lips tight. “He can’t tell you.”
The Appleloosan jerked his head back. “Uh, okay. Um, do you mind tellin’ why?”
The newcomer said, with the utmost sincerity, “Because he’s just a chicken.”
The Appleloosan’s ears drooped. “Yer just messin’ with me, ain’t yah?”
“Yep!” The newcomer flipped his hat from his head, allowing an explosion of brown curls to jump out. “The name’s Cheese Sandwich, Party-planner Extraordinaire! That’s ‘Cheese’ as in ‘Brie,’ ‘Sandwich’ as in ‘Dagwood.’ I was beginning to think I’d never meet another pony in this part of the desert. I’ve been following my cheesy-sense, you know. It tells me somepony’s gonna need a party pretty quick, here!”
He grabbed the Appleloosan’s hoof and shook enthusiastically. “So tell me, stranger, do you know of any ponies out here in need of a little bit of the party magic? I’ve got my party howitzer parked just around the corner!”
The Appleloosan’s eyes rolled around in his skull. He shook his head. “Sorry. Ah’ve been followin’ the lost caravan ever since they missed the rendezvous. Ah get the feelin’ they’re gonna be more in need o’ a good night’s rest and a glass o’ water than a five-layer cake.”
Cheese held his hat like a shield and thrust Boneless out like a sword. “Then take me with you! Let it never be said that Chesterfield Whittaker Sandwich ever abandoned a pony in need!”
The Appleloosan pushed up his hat. “Well, that’s right kind of you, Cheese, but ah—”
“And I don’t take ‘but’ for an answer.” Cheese Sandwich returned his hat to his head and stuffed Boneless in his saddlebags. “I’ve got all the butts I need to last me for a lifetime, thank you very much.”
“Stick close, then.” The Appleloosan thundered off, heading in the direction of the setting sun. “We ain’t got much time b’fore dark, an’ we don’t need tah hang out with the local nightlife too much.”
“Right behind you!” Cheese said from the Appleloosan’s side. “Say, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Name’s Braeburn Apple,” the Appleloosan said. “Lemme know if you catch any sign of ’em.”
“No sign, but I got this itchy feeling in my scalp.”
Braeburn flicked his tail. “Itchy feelin’? That the—what didja call it—cheesy-sense?”
“Mystique d’fromage, they called it in Prance.” Cheese wiggled his eyebrows.
“Right.” Braeburn’s keen eyes scanned the horizon. There amongst the sand and cacti was a battered, rickety prairie schooner. He smiled. “Got ’em!”
“Sweet!” Cheese Sandwich spun around in midair and careened off into the dust. “I’ll get the welcome wagon!”
“Welcome wagon?” Braeburn raised an eyebrow. He shrugged and continued on, figuring that it wasn’t the weirdest thing the stallion had said all day. He skidded to a stop beside the schooner, and removed his hat. “Hay, everypony! Y’all missed yer scheduled stop at Appleloosa, so ah figured on findin’ yah and gettin’ y’all back where y’ ought tah be!”
There was silence for a moment, then a quiet shuffling. A pair of eyes appeared under the wagon’s covering. “It’s coming!” a voice hissed.
Braeburn pulled off his hat. “Pardon me, little lady, but ah couldn’t quite catch that—”
“It’s coming!” she said a little louder. “It’s been chasing us all this way.”
Braeburn took a step forward. His hoof crunched a piece of wagon wheel. The thoroughly-splintered, completely annihilated wagon wheel. “Wha—?”
“We’re stuck.” The mare beneath the cover shivered. “We’re gonna be eaten!”
“Now hold on,” Braeburn said. “Eaten by what?”
The ground behind him burst in a cloud of dust and rocks. He leaped back against the wagon, his heart racing as a massive something grew up, up, up out of the ground. He gasped as the dust and debris cleared away.
It was a worm. Not your average ordinary nightcrawler, or even a sizable, comparable big brother. It was a pale sandy color, as though it was a part of the landscape come to life. At the top, there was a three-sectioned mouth with rows upon rows of sharp teeth. Tentacles burst from between the jaws, reaching out to grab them.
“Tatzlwurm!” the mare in the wagon screamed.
Braeburn lifted the corner of the wagon that lacked a wheel. Huffing and puffing, he pushed it away from the monstrous monstrosity. Twin black, beady eyes watched him scurry with the prairie schooner. The beast bent over and bit into the sand.
Braeburn looked back over his shoulder. The tatzlwurm was gone. “Shucks, that weren’t so—”
It came up from beneath the wagon, grabbing it with its jaws as its tentacles searched for ponies to munch.
“Ev’rypony out now!” Braeburn bucked a stray tentacle and tore the cover from the wagon. Five ponies lay beneath. “Now, now, now, now!”
They charged from their uncovered hiding spot. It was a mad scramble to follow Braeburn as he led them away from the monster and to the rock formations.
Finding no meals to go with the wheels, the tatzlwurm spat out the wagon and dug through the earth. The ground rose up as it carved a path towards the fleeing ponies. The earth shook with tremors as it drew ever closer.
Braeburn waved the ponies into the rocks, then hopped in himself. He crouched behind a stone and pulled his hat low over his head. After a moment, he was rewarded with a hefty fwump as the tatzlwurm smacked head-first into bedrock. The great sandy beast popped out of the ground and tottered, its beady little eyes crisscrossing.
“Take that and chew on it, yah dang-blasted varmint! Yee haw!” Braeburn stood tall, smirking at the tatzlwurm. His smile fell like a curtain over a bad play. The worm roared, flinging little droplets of spittle to coat his body. He touched one hoof to his blond mane. The mane stuck to the hoof. “Run fer it, folks!”
The six ponies ducked and weaved through the rocky ground, heading for a cave at the far side. The tatzlwurm made like a snake and slithered over the bumps and edges, wincing each time a point hit against its extended belly. It lunged for one stallion, its tentacles flailing, but halted its pursuit due to a rock to the face. It glared at Braeburn as the cowpony hefted a second rock.
“Yah want sommat to eat?” Braeburn said. “Snack on this!” He bucked the rock, which went flying.
Only to be caught in the tatzlwurm’s jaws. The beast bit down, shattering the stone. It hissed.
“Oh, fer the love of—” Braeburn turned on his rear legs and took off at a gallop. He glanced over his shoulder, his mane flying in front of his eyes, to see that all five travelers had gotten safely to the tiny cave. His front hooves quite suddenly ran out of ground to traverse.
He grappled with the edge of a not-really-but-almost-bottomless gorge in the landscape. He gulped. “Well, at least today’s gonna make fer a good story.”
He squinted at the tatzlwurm as it squirmed towards him, hissing and huffing like a marathon runner on his last legs. Its tentacles reached feebly for him. He slid to the side as one slapped down on the ledge. Three others grasped thin air as he ducked and weaved. Despite his best efforts, however, Braeburn soon found himself surrounded by a web of weird wobbly wigglers. He looked into the gaping jaws of the tatzlwurm and grimaced, in no small part due to the creature’s offensive halitosis.
Accordion music filled the air.
“Sing the lyrics loud and clear!” Cheese Sandwich hollered. “Guzzle tubs of old root beer!”
A tank rolled across the desert sands. The treads made deep furrows in the sand as the sheer weight of the metal behemoth crushed cacti and rocks alike. The turret swiveled to face the tatzlwurm. Cheese popped out of the top hatch.
“Hi de ho, it’s monster-stomping day!”
Confetti, streamers, balloons, cupcakes, and the occasional piñata exploded from the barrel of the party howitzer. As one, the various party supplies coated the tatzlwurm from butt to bonce. The beast just stared.
After a moment, a house-sized pie popped out to impact the monster’s face.
Cheese Sandwich pronked down the side of the tank, grinning from ear to ear. “Nothing solves a problem like a good party, I’ve always said.”
Braeburn removed his hat and ruffled his mane. “Ah’m inclined to agree with yah—”
The tatzlwurm growled. It shook off the instant party and lunged for the party howitzer. It lifted the tank into the air, jostled it, and tossed it into the gorge.
Braeburn grunted. “Up to a point.”
The great worm coiled itself like a spring and lunged at the cave, where the weary travelers were watching the goings-on with bated breath. They screeched and dove into the now-noticeably-shallow chip in the side of the outcropping.
Without a second thought, Braeburn grabbed the beast by the tip of its tail. Once that second thought finally registered, he regretted it with every fiber of his being.
The tatzlwurm halted for but an instant. Then, noticing the extra weight holding it back, it decided to remove said weight with all due haste. It wriggled and waggled and rolled and roiled. It jiggled and jaggled and jimmied and jostled. It zigged and zagged and shimmied and shook.
And Braeburn held on the whole while. The worm paused to take a breath, and the cowpony from Appleloosa turned unfocused eyes to Cheese, his smile missing at least one tooth. “Did ah get ’im, Mister Worcestershire?”
The worm got its second wind and carried on hopping. Braeburn spoke each time he was lifted into the air. “Get! The ponies! To safety! Now!”
Cheese Sandwich threw him a hasty salute. He chugged off towards the ponies and waved them out of the cave. When they refused to follow, he drew forth a plying candy cane out of his mane. When that didn’t work, he grabbed two of them around their waists and took off on his hind legs through the desert. The jaws of the other three dropped, but they apparently felt that closeness was the key to survival, so they followed.
The tatzlwurm stared at its rear, and the little pony clamped on tighter than a bear trap. Braeburn grinned a gap-toothed grin. The worm curled around, its mouth open to bite down hard. At the very last moment, Braeburn bounded onto the creature’s head.
The worm’s rows and rows of razor-sharp teeth bit down on its own tail tip. It was an unpleasant experience to say the least. Rest assured that if the tatzlwurm was able to speak, it would have let loose with a string of very naughty words, such as “horseapples” and “dagnabit.”
Braeburn balanced atop its head as it thrashed. He reached out and grasped a stray tentacle to keep from being flung into the rocks. At last, the worm stopped, save for swaying in the wind. Braeburn grinned and patted the beast on the head. “Good wormy.”
The best sighed and slumped down on the ground. Braeburn hopped down and yanked on another grabber. “Now you listen up, hear? Ah don’t wanna find out about you chasin’ after any more travelers! You got plenty to eat out here in the badlands without munchin’ on ponies! So you tell me, are yah gonna eat ponies?”
The tatzlwurm growled. He jerked the feelers. “Ah said, are yah gonna eat ponies?”
The beast shook its head. He smiled. “That’s better. Now gowan, scoot!”
He slapped the tatzlwurm on the side and watched it glide through the loose sand. He sat down hard and chuckled. “Whoo-ee. Now ain’t that one fer the campfire?”
He turned around and beheld the ponies he’d rescued, alongside Cheese Sandwich, all looking on with wide eyes. He whistled through the space left by his missing teeth. “Y’all ready to head back to AAAaaaaa—” He splatted face-first on the ground, unconscious.
Cheese Sandwich jutted his chin out. He sweeped his hat off his head and held it across his chest. “Welp, I think that just about became the strangest thing I’ve seen all day. But then, I haven’t looked in a mirror.”
Before they could blink, Braeburn’s body glowed with pure magic. There was a flash, a pop like a light going out, and the Appleloosan was gone. Cheese Sandwich pressed his lips together as his pupils shrank.
“You just had to have the final word, didn’t yah, Braeburn?”
***
Braeburn stood in the middle of nothing. He looked up, down, left, and right, and found nary a thing to even tell him which direction he was facing. He looked to the sky, but found no sky. He looked to the ground, but found no ground. He looked at his hat, and was at least satisfied to see that it was the same old, same old.
A twinkling sound drew his attention. He looked forward and saw a star. He smiled and walked towards it. He slowed as he realized it was also heading towards him. He ducked down and held onto his hat. The star buzzed by overhead, followed by another, another, and another. So the parade continued, light after light after dazzling light.
He peered through his hooves. The stars were not stars after all, but flying images. Moving images, at that, like the ones he saw at the cinema. Each one featured one colt: Himself.
They were events from his life. His time growing up in Dodge Junction. His first apple bucking. The peace treaty with the buffalos. It was all there.
At the end of the line was an image of him galloping through the sand, following clues as to the whereabouts of the missing travelers.
A brighter light than that of the images blinded Braeburn. He rubbed the spots out of his eyes with little success.
“Twilight Sparkle, my faithful student,” a regal voice said, “I’m so proud of—”
The spots cleared. Braeburn lifted his head. He beheld none other than Princess Celestia, Diarch of Equestria. His jaw dropped, and he bowed at the knee.
“You aren’t Twilight Sparkle,” she said.
“Ah… um… thank you fer noticin’, yer Majesty.”
“You’re really not Twilight Sparkle.”
“Not a’tall.”
“You quite frankly could not be further from Twilight Sparkle.”
“Ah’m startin’ to get a lil’ uncomfortable, yer Majesty.”
Celestia rubbed her forehead with a pristine white hoof. She summoned a mug of coffee from nowhere. “Well, even if you’re not Twilight Sparkle—my most faithful student and sure to be future princess—this is most certainly a cause for celebration!”
Braeburn stood and removed his hat. “Celebration, yer Majesty?”
“Why your coronation, of course.” Celestia took a sip of her coffee before also conjuring a cup of creamer. “It’s not every day somepony becomes an alicorn prince.”
“Alalalalala—” Braeburn’s eyes bugged out. “Alicorn prince?” he squeaked.
Celestia nodded as she perused the moving images. “Indubitably. It seems as though you ascended due to the exceptional use of your tracking skills to save a group of waylaid wayfarers. Not to mention the impressive taming of a lesser desert tatzlwurm.”
“L-lesser?”
“All very noteworthy. Be proud, Braeburn Apple, for you shall go down in history as the second male alicorn.”
“Second?” Braeburn nearly dropped his hat. “Who was the first?”
Celestia’s teeth ground together. “Blueblood.”
“Oh.” Braeburn rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah guess news ain’t gotten as far as Appleloosa!” He covered his mouth with his hat. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Celestia said. “Appleloosa is a wonderful place. You should be proud of it.” She vanished her coffee cup and pointed her horn at Braeburn. “Please step forward, Braeburn, it has already begun.”
Now that he thought about it, there was a lightness in Braeburn’s chest. It tingled as it spread outward to every part of his body. “Wha—what’s happenin’, yer Majesty?”
“You’ve ascended, Prince Braeburn of Pioneering.” Celestia smirked. “Welcome to the club.”
His very coat began to shine like the light of the sun. His heart beat faster and faster as wings sprung from his back. A horn sparkled atop his forehead. His mane was tousled to and fro by currents of magic. The world around him spun and vanished in a poof.
Celestia smiled at the now-empty mystical plane. She turned to remove herself, but was stopped by a small “pop!”
She broke out into a grin and turned around. “Twilight Sparkle, my faithful student, I’m so proud of—”
“Where the heck am I?” Nurse Redheart said. “Where’s the hospital? Where are my patients? If this is another prank, Doc, I’m gonna—”
Celestia summoned up another coffee alongside a little something for her growing headache.
***
“I’m beginning to think you have no idea where you’re going.”
Cheese Sandwich fought to keep a smile on his face. The dark desert night was closing around, alongside any number of carnivorous creatures willing to munch on a pony or six. “All I gotta do is follow my cheesy-sense, miss…”
“Rose Quartz,” the earth pony mare said. “And you really have no idea where you’re going. Just what is a cheesy-sense supposed to be?”
“It’s a tingly feeling I get that tells me where I need to go, and it hasn’t failed me once.” Cheese Sandwich gave her a sad smile. “Really, I know what I’m doing.”
Rose Quartz’s eyes darkened. She clicked her tongue. “Oh, you’re one of those ponies. Fair enough, I won’t bug you.” She scrunched her muzzle. “But the second we get anywhere near civilization, I am out of here.”
The desert sand lit up with light from above. The travelers looked up to see a giant apple symbol descending from the sky. They cleared a space amongst them as it fell. When it touched down, it flashed once and reconfigured itself into an alicorn stallion with a sandy-blond mane and a tan coat. The stallion grinned, his teeth restored to full.
“Shucks, folks, howdy,” Prince Braeburn said. “Ah was hopin’ to run into you.”
Rose Quartz’s eyes ran along Braeburn’s wings and horn. She nibbled on the edge of one hoof. “Maybe I’ll be sticking around after all.”
Cheese Sandwich bounced up and exchanged a hoofbump with Braeburn. “Well, well, well! Didn’t I say somepony was gonna need a party?”
Braeburn chuckled. The laugh got caught in his throat. “Oh sweet apple pie, ah’m a prince.”
He keeled over onto his back then and there, his legs hanging in the air.
Author's Note
Here's to the latest entry in the Blueblood's Ascension Series! 
Come on everybody! Smile, smile, smile!
Braeburn's Ascension; or, The Courtship of Pinkamena Diane Pie
A Most Noble and Somber Affair
Pinkie Pie glared at Twilight Sparkle with a firm, thin line of a mouth. The unicorn glared back, her own face a mirror of her friend’s. The silence in the train car surrounded them, smothered them, enveloped them with tension that could be cut with a knife. Or maybe an axe. Or a chainsaw.
The chainsaw came in the form of Rainbow Dash’s uproarious snoring. The pegasus was laid out on her bunk, her left two legs hanging over the side. They waved in midair in time with the swaying of the train. Underneath her bunk, Fluttershy did her level best to focus on brushing Angel Bunny rather than let the pressure pervading the room get to her.
“Heck if that mare don’t sound like she’s got a whole beehive livin’ in her mane,” Applejack said. “Ah’ve half a mind tah let her sleep on the roof.”
“I’ll have the other half, if you need it,” Rarity moaned from a cushioned bench. “The poor dear sounds like a congested elephant.”
Pinkie kept her thoughts to herself, so focused she was on Twilight Sparkle’s glaring lavender eyes. A faint stinging feeling brushed past her lashes as her own baby blues dried out.
“Maybe we should have brought a cloud of steam.” Fluttershy caressed Angel’s ears, eliciting a grumble of complaint from the pampered pet. “It always helped her when she and I had sleepovers in Cloudsdale.”
Rainbow Dash sawed logs in agreement.
A trickle of sweat rolled down Pinkie Pie’s face from her hairline to her chin. She gritted her teeth in determination as Twilight’s ear gave an involuntary twitch.
Rarity pressed a hoof to the base of her horn. “I’m afraid that a solution, no matter how brilliant, is hardly a solution without the necessary ingredients.”
Fluttershy’s bangs fell over her nose. “I suppose you’re right.”
The vibration started at the tip of Pinkie’s tail. It ran helter-skelter through her body, from the edge of her hooves to the cockles of her heart.
“Don’t take it the wrong way, Fluttershy,” Rarity said, her mouth pulled down in a sympathetic frown. “I’m sure it would be a wonderful plan. Had we access to a cloud of steam or some such thing.” She poured herself a glass of grape juice and held it to her lips. “At that point, I’m sure we could calm down Rainbow’s problems as quick as a—”
“BLINK!” Pinkie Pie yelped. Her eyes shut tight, her whole body lifting into the air from the sheer force. She flopped onto her back, her mane frazzled and her chest heaving.
Twilight Sparkle pointed a hoof alongside a victorious grin. “Ha! Gotcha!”
Rarity looked down at an empty cup and a soaking, sticky chest. She daubed herself with a ready, damp handkerchief and poured herself a further glass. “A genius play, Twilight darling.”
“Thank you, Rarity.” Twilight lifted a sheet of paper and marked it off with a pencil. “Play time-consuming games with friends on trip, check!”
She twisted in her seat to face Applejack with a keen, determined expression. “Now, explain in detail how your cousin ascended to alicornhood.”
Applejack’s sigh expanded her chest to the limits and let it out in a rush. “Ah can only tell yah what ah read from the letter, Twi. Apparently, Braeburn was wrasslin’ a stinking Tatzlwurm out in the desert somewhere and woke up with wings and a horn. Ain’t gonna be able to say much more’n that.”
“I beg to differ,” Pinkie Pie said. She popped a pink crayon into her mouth and held it at the ready over a stack of paper. “What sort of cake does Braeburn like? What color streamers? Does he prefer bouncy houses or ball pits?”
“Pinkie, we’ve already told you,” Rarity said. “Braeburn’s coronation already has a planner. Somepony by the name of Cheese Sandwich, I believe. You needn’t worry over the details. Simply enjoy yourself and the glamour of high-society!”
“High-society?” Applejack snorted. “Rares, you’ve been tah Appleloosa before. Does it strike you as the height of social standin’?”
“Rural though it may be…” Rarity batted her curls and fluttered her eyelashes. “Your cousin is a prince now, and with that comes certain expectations. You can’t expect Appleloosa to be the same little country town after one of its residents becomes one of the most powerful beings in the world.”
“Magically and politically,” Fluttershy whispered.
Twilight shook her head. “I dunno about that. Cadence has been a princess for years, but was never anywhere near Celestia’s equal. She didn’t even really hold an office until the Crystal Empire reappeared.” She sniggered. “And the last executive decision Blueblood made was to declare himself the Twice-Crowned Prince of Equestria.”
“Regardless.” Rarity stressed the word as far as her mouth could carry it. “This is not going to be a birthday party, but a coronation ball the likes of which are rarely seen outside of Canterlot. I feel bouncy houses will seem out of place.” She rested a comforting hoof on Pinkie’s shoulder. “Be at ease, friend. This Cheese Sandwich has it well in hand.”
Pinkie rubbed her chin. “Cheese Sandwich. Why does that name ring a bell?” She spat out the crayon and reshuffled her papers. “Just because I can’t plan the party doesn’t mean I can’t bake a cake or twenty. What flavor, Applejack?”
“Uh…” Applejack rubbed her head just below the brim of her hat. “Ah think he likes apples.”
“Oh my, what an astonishing surprise.” Rarity took a dainty sip. “Do tell us more of the dark, mysterious secrets your family holds.”
Rainbow Dash let out a stuttering rumble.
The door at the end of their car rattled. “Is it alright tah come in?”
“Go ahead, Big Mac,” Applejack called. “We’re decent as we’ll ever be.”
Big McIntosh ducked his head as he entered the room. He had left his hefty yoke behind in Ponyville, ready for a weekend of celebration. His broad, bare shoulders almost didn’t fit between the bunks. He brushed past the sleeping Rainbow Dash, accidently nudging her legs.
She bolted upright with a yelp, sending her head careening into the roof of the train car. She flopped back down, cradling her cranium and spewing profanities. “Aw cuss darn it! What gives? Whose bright idea was it to—?”
“Sorry ’bout that, Miss Dash,” Big Mac muttered, his head low. “Didn’t mean tah startle you.”
She opened her eyes wide. Her expression changed from that of barely controlled outrage to completely carefree in a Manehattan minute. “Aheh. That’s fine. Mistakes happen. No problemo. Bygones and forthwiths and all that, you know? We’re cool. Better than cool.”
Big Mac kept his face blank until she had run out of words. When she paused to catch her breath, he gave her a small smile. “Good. Thanks.”
As he trotted further into the car, Rainbow Dash let her head fall to her pillow to muffle a groan.
“Mackie!” Pinkie Pie bounded over to the hulking stallion and squeezed his neck. “Maybe you can help us where Applejack has failed!”
“Wait, what now?” Applejack’s muzzle scrunched into a scowl. “Ah told you he likes apples!”
“Again, such scandalous allegations,” Rarity chuckled.
“Alright, fine.” Applejack waved Rarity off with her hat. “Big Mac, what sorta cake does Braeburn like? Pinkie’s got it in her head that she needs tah contribute.”
“It’s a party, AJ. Duh.” Pinkie grinned, clutching the pink crayon in her teeth. “Big McIntosh, what sort of cake does Braeburn prefer? Any specific flavors?”
Big Mac scratched the hair on his jaw line. “Ah recall that he asked for confetti cake on the birthday he spent at the Acres. It had little candy pieces baked into the batter. Good eats.”
“Ooh, that’s some good taste.” Pinkie scribbled like mad across the paper, already plotting out recipes and other mad science. “What about fruit filling?”
“Oh, do tell!” Rarity leaned forward, her smile curling up at the ends. “Was it apples? Don’t hold us in suspense! It was apples, wasn’t it?”
“You’re asking for a good—” Applejack pulled the sides of her hat down to cover her face.
Big Mac laughed. “He had raspberry fillin’, if ah recall correctly. That or it was strawberry. One of those berries. Maybe blue?”
“‘Some sort of berry.’ Got it!” Pinkie dropped the crayon and stuck her tongue out one side of her mouth. “But now I gotta figure out what sort of filling goes with confetti cake. Talk about the possibilities! Maybe I’ll just go with a frosting filling and save on time…”
Big Mac turned to Applejack and Twilight Sparkle. “Conductor says we’ve just ’bout arrived at Appleloosa. Might wanna get your stuff together.”
“Already on it,” Twilight said. “By my calculations, I gather that we are exactly ten minutes away from the town. We have ample time to collect the Crusaders and Spike from next door.”
Big Mac nodded. “That’d be just dandy if the train to Appleloosa wasn’t always eight minutes early.”
Twilight chuckled. “Oh, of course.” She blinked. “What.”
“Train’s always early. Never quite understood the math mahself, but somewhere along the line we get goin’ downhill and get a lil’ faster.”
Twilight blew a breath through her teeth. “Pinkie, hand me the crayon. I need to make some adjustments to my schedule.”
Pinkie handed her friend the writing utensil out of basic politeness, but also took the opportunity to hang a foreleg over her shoulders. “Twilight, Twilight, Twilight. Don’t worry about the schedule today! Don’t worry about organizing things to the letter. It’s a party! Parties are fun and fun is spontaneous!”
“Fun can also be rigidly structured.” Twilight slid off her seat as the train came to a stop. “You can’t tell me it’s impossible to have rigidly structured fun.”
“It would be silly for me to say that.” Pinkie Pie bounced her way towards the doorway, where Rarity waited. “But then, we’re not going to a hoofball game; we’re going to a coronation!”
Rarity bobbed her head in a most classy and fabulous manner. “A coronation being a ridged and structured affair. Please do remember the Gala, Pinkie. It’s more along those lines.”
Pinkie smirked out of the side of her mouth. “It’s still Appleloosa, you know.”
Fluttershy giggled from her place on the bottom bunk. Rainbow Dash swung her head down, her colorful mane trailing beneath. “What’s funny, ’Shy?”
Fluttershy held a hoof over her mouth, hiding her smile. “I was just imagining a buffalo in a tuxedo and top hat.”
Rarity indulged herself in a prolonged eye-roll. She gripped the door handle with a ready spell. “How very amusing. Ladies and gentlecolt, I give to you the height of society and fabulousity, Braeburn’s coronation!”
She slid the door outwards, expecting a sea of fancy dresses and genteel conversation. She got quite a few dresses, but her fantasy was shattered by a herd of ten-gallon hats, woops and hollers, dusty roads, and what appeared to be a carnival on the far side of the Salt Lick Saloon.
Pinkie Pie looked up at a towering Ferris wheel which glittered with lights. A bouncy house contained a small army of foals at various altitudes. Cotton candy was passed out like it was going out of style. A nearby strength test went ding as a hefty stallion hit the mallet just right.
Pinkie wiped a tear from her eye. “Every single misgiving I had about Mister Sandwich being the planner is gone forever.”
“But of course.” Rarity’s ears drooped. “You can take the pony out of the ranch, but you can’t make her drink.”
Applejack coughed into her hoof. “Ah think you got your idioms mixed up, Sugarcube.”
“I couldn’t decide which fit better.”
An elderly earth pony cackled as she disembarked from the neighboring car. “Sure as shootin’ ah was afeared ah was gonna have tah wear mah Sund’y best! Ah guess ‘buck nude’ is the word of the hour!”
Applejack failed to suppress a grin. “Now, Granny Smith, it’s proper to wear somethin’ fancy when a relation gets crowned royalty.”
Granny’s wrinkly face grew even more wrinkled when she returned the smile. “Says who? Ain’t no Apple ever gotten crowned afore. Ain’t no precedent!”
“Whatever you say, Granny,” Applejack said with a wink.
Pinkie bounced her way towards the market, her list clutched lightly in her mouth. Fluttershy raised a hoof and her voice. “Do you need any help, Pinkie?”
“Hmm…” Pinkie jumped into the air and clicked her hooves together. “Sure! The more the merrier! You can be my eye in the sky while I shop for ingredients!”
Applejack slung a foreleg over Twilight’s shoulders. “Come on, Twi. Ah’ll show yah where we keep the cider stores and we’ll have ourselves a good old fashioned taste test.”
Twilight gave her schedule one last forelorn look. Her smile brightened as she tossed it into the depths of her saddlebags. “Aw, heck. Let’s do this thing. Have fun, Spike!”
The short dragon waved as Big Mac lifted him onto his shoulders. “See you, Twilight!”
Applejack adjusted the brim of her hat. She cast a glance over her shoulder. “You comin’, RD? There’s some Sweet Apple Acres Cider in it for you.”
“Yyyeah, in a sec…” Rainbow didn’t so much as look their way when she waved them off. “You go on ahead. I’ll catch up.”
Applejack raised an eyebrow, shrugged, and trotted off to cider and victory.
Through her fog of surprised numbness, Rarity felt a tug on her leg. She looked down into the all-too-innocent face of Sweetie Belle. “Hi, Rarity! Can I go with Apple Bloom and Scootaloo and Spike and Granny Smith and Big McIntosh and go on the Ferris wheel and bumper carts and roller coaster and eat cotton candy and—”
“Stay close to either Big Mac or Granny Smith at all times,” Rarity rattled off. “Do as they say. Don’t spoil your supper. Don’t get your mane or coat dirty. Have fun, dear.”
Sweetie Belle squeezed her sister’s leg. “Thank you, Rarity!” She scampered off with her friends, in the wake of Big Mac’s hefty strides.
Rainbow Dash watched him go. She licked dry lips with a dryer tongue. She sucked in a deep breath, folded her wings at her sides and took a step forward.
“This hardly seems fair, Rainbow Dash!” Rarity moved in front of Dash, blocking her view of the red-coated stallion. “The one event in recent memory with some semblance of high-class and it turns out to be a dud!”
“Yeeeah…” Rainbow Dash glanced around quickly. “Um, at least ponies seem to be having fun. I guess I’ll be on my—”
“Fun!” Rarity shut her eyes, crossed her forehooves, and turned her snout to the sky. “Did it never occur to anypony that stuffy parties are fun?”
Rainbow Dash scratched the back of her mane. “That’s a pretty hard sell.”
“A hard sell,” Rarity said, “is a royal coronation that has a dratted pin-the-tail-on-the-pony game!”
Rainbow Dash’s head bobbed up. “They do? Cool!” A sidelong glance at Rarity’s face brought her back down. “Er, I mean, geeze that’s a hard sell.”
“A hard sell indeed.” Rarity nodded curtly. “Well, if I am to be the only source of class in this entire dustbowl of a town, then classy I shall be!”
Rainbow’s eyes scanned the crowd for any sign of a certain set of red flanks. Spotting his head above the sea of Technicolor, she spread her wings. “Well, good luck with that, Rarity. More power to you and all that. Bye—”
She rose into the air, but her tail was encased in a bubble of blue magic. “Rainbow Dash!” Rarity all but squealed. “Look!”
A troupe of ponies marched down main street, banners and streamers flying above their heads. A marching band followed after, sousaphones blaring. At the rear of the procession, a curly-maned stallion with a coat like burnt cheese hobbled under the weight of his one-pony-band, complete with accordion. The fierce expression of concentration on his face did nothing to dispel the aura of silliness surrounding the entire thing.
“Did you see that?” Rarity gasped.
“Nice parade,” Rainbow Dash said, still in Rarity’s iron grip. She scanned the crowd, but found no sign of her target. “Really nice. Liked the tune. Gonna be humming it forever. Would you let me go now?”
“He was perfect!” Rarity screeched.
Rainbow Dash fell from the sky. Her face plopped in the dirt road, her tail still held aloft by Rarity. She spat dirt and turned incredulously to her friend. “What the what?”
Rarity regained some presence of mind. She dropped the last vestiges of Rainbow and cleared her throat. “That stallion leading the procession! His bearing of silliness! His intense concentration! His ability to play one-million instruments simultaneously! Can’t you see it? He’s perfect!”
“Er…” Rainbow Dash dusted off her wings. “Um. Eh. He was kinda skinny. I thought your preferred stallions with more muscle on their—”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, I didn’t mean for me.” Rarity assisted Rainbow Dash in cleaning off the dirt long after all visible traces had been removed. “Think of this: Who among us, besides yourself, has never been in any sort of romantic relationship before?”
Rainbow scratched her chin, sending a not-entirely-surreptitious glance Big Mac’s way. “Applejack?”
Rarity rolled her eyes. “Besides her.”
“Um. Fluttershy?”
“Ah. I suppose I hadn’t thought of her. But that’s not what I meant.”
“Twilight Sparkle?”
Rarity stomped a hoof. “Oh come now, I obviously mean Pinkie Pie! Why else would I look at that nut of a stallion and say ‘isn’t he just perfect?’! They complete each other! Like halves of some sort of... of particle accelerator of kookiness.”
A very cold chill, reeking of bad things to come, ran its way down Rainbow Dash’s spine. “You’re gonna meddle, aren’t you?”
“‘Meddle’ is such an ugly word.” A devious smirk worked its way across Rarity’s face. “I only want good things for my friends, Rainbow Dash. One must simply take a step forward to get things in motion.”
Rainbow sidled away from Rarity, trying to pick out individual ponies from the crowd. “About that… I was just gonna—”
“But today, things get set into motion.” Rarity chuckled from the depths of her soul. Her magic wrapped around Rainbow’s tail once more. “Today, Pinkie Pie will meet her soul mate. Whether she’s prepared to or not!”
Rainbow Dash strained against Rarity, but the unicorn’s matchmaking powers were irresistible. She was dragged backwards through Appleloosa, in the complete opposite direction of the festive carnival.
***
Braeburn Apple, Prince of Pioneering, peered around a corner. His wings trembled uncontrolled at his sides. His horn tingled atop his forehead. His hooves ground into the familiar and comforting dirt. He took a deep breath through the nose. His face brightened up. He figured that he just had to look on the bright side. There was a carnival in progress! There was candy to eat and rides to enjoy!
He looked down at his lengthened legs and hoped that he still fit in the roller coaster. He took one step out into the road.
“Aha! There you are, Prince Braeburn!”
Every single muscle in Braeburn’s body tensed. He pivoted on her hind legs and looked over at the stallion who had called his name. It was a white-coated, blond-maned stallion with a sharp horn and a delightful set of glistening wings.
“Er, Prince Blueblood, ah presume?”
Blueblood chuckled and straightened his blue bowtie with a flash of magic. “One and the same and very happy to meet you, sir. I was beginning to think that I would remain the sole male alicorn in Equestria.” There was a small twitch in his left eyelid. “It is not as pleasant as one might suppose at first blush.”
He walked alongside Braeburn as the latter headed for the festivities. “While I have learned to live with Princess Luna and Auntie Celestia, these new arrivals are an entirely different breed. Princess Vinyl Scratch has made evenings at the castle ear-splitting affairs, but she’s nice enough when she’s not getting into arguments with this friend of hers.”
Blueblood turned his eyes up and to the side. “Princess Redheart is a hard read, I’m afraid. It seems at times that she is unhappy with her circumstances. Princess Heartstings is most certainly a right terror, being the source of most of the aforementioned arguments with Princess Scratch. All told, I am honored to have another stallion by my side.”
He presented Braeburn with a congenial smile. “Now, then, down to business! How did it happen? Where and when did you ascend? Some new science? A magic discovered? A noble deed accomplished?”
“Ah wrassled a lesser desert tatzlwurm to th’ ground an’ saved a cart of settlers.” Braeburn adjusted his vest to sit higher on his shoulders. “It was kinda neat.”
Blueblood looked at Braeburn with lowered eyebrows. “Huh.”
“That pretty much sums it up.” Braeburn tipped his hat. “How ’bout you?”
“I made a robot.” Blueblood sucked in his lips. “One that tried to take over Equestria in my name”
“Huh.” Braeburn spread his wings. He examined the feathers waving in the wind. “Ah guess ascension is a real funny thing, ain’t it?”
“Completely, my good fellow,” Blueblood said.
They were a short ways into the marketplace when Braeburn caught sight of two familiar faces. “Oh hay, just saw a couple of mah cousin’s friends. Ah’m gonna say hi.” He trotted their way, waving a hoof. “Hay, Miss Fluttershy! Hay, Miss Pinkie Pie!”
Fluttershy turned around to return the greeting. Her eyes fell on the stallion beside Braeburn, one who brought memories only of terrifying things: Robots and yelling and bad manners! She squeaked and hid behind Pinkie Pie.
Pinkie had no such qualms about facing the ponies before her. “Hi, Braeburn! Hi, Bluey!”
Blueblood froze. Memories flooded back of the pink mare: Hyperactiveness and unpredictability and itching powder. He gulped and disappeared behind Braeburn.
“So Braeburn,” Pinkie Pie said. She jumped to his side in a single bound, leaving Fluttershy cowering behind a fruit stand. “Just the stallion I wanted to see! I just heard it was your coronation—total congratulations, by the way!—and I knew it in my knower that you needed a coronation cake. Or three, if I can get enough ingredients. So, Big Mac said you liked confetti cake, right?”
“Uh, yeah. Ah love confetti cake.” Braeburn did his best to ignore the stallion hyperventilating behind him. “Darn near puts a smile on mah face all by itself.”
“Excellent!” Pinkie pulled the pink crayon out of her mane and scribbled on a notepad she pulled from who-knows-where. “Now what about the fruit filling? You have a thing for berries, or were you more into the whole ‘frosting everywhere’ craze?”
“Raspberry’s mah favorite, but whatever you can scrounge up in time should do the trick.” He smiled at her. “Thanks kindly. Ah ain’t had a homemade cake in ages!” He peered around Pinkie to catch sight of Fluttershy, who had gathered up the courage to peek out from under her hooves. “Nice tah see you gals again. Is Applejack around?”
“I heard she was gonna go sampling the cider.” Pinkie giggled. “I think the others followed her there. Keep an eye out and you’ll see them!”
Braeburn nodded. “Ah intend to.”
Pinkie gathered Fluttershy up and held her hoof. “See you later, Braeburn, Blueblood! Hi-ho, Fluttershy! To the batter!”
They raced off, Fluttershy spreading her wings in an attempt to keep up.
Braeburn smiled. “Nice folks, those Ponyville types, you know?”
Blueblood tilted his head to the side, a morose expression overtaking him. “So I’ve heard,” he groaned.
Braeburn’s wings leaped out against his will. He took them in his hooves and tried to force them back against his sides. “So what do yah wanna do? We got rides, games, greasy food, just about anythin’ you could want from a party!”
Blueblood smirked. “I’m noting a distinct lack of hors d'oeuvres and live music.”
At that very moment, Cheese Sandwich marched by at the head of his band. Blueblood watched in silence as the procession passed.
Braeburn nudged him. “One outta two ain’t bad, right? How’s about that roller coaster?”
Blueblood smirked. He let loose a hollow chuckle. “Prince Braeburn, you do not wish to see me on a—”
A shout rose above the sound of the crowd, threatening to spread gray hairs to all who knew the source. “Cutie Mark Crusaders Ferris Wheel Operators, yay!”
“Roller coaster it is,” Blueblood said, marching double-time.
