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                For a Very Special Somepony                
                  -by Will-Owl-the-Wisp-                   
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                For a Very Special Somepony                
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For a Very Special Somepony
The afternoon sun streamed through the olivine glass of the library windows, dappling the shelves of books and scrolls with soft green rays. Motes swirling lazily in the shafts of light were sent into a whirling frenzy when Misty Moonrise blew away the dust from the worn cover of an old tome. The resulting cloud made the grey unicorn mare sneeze. She shook her disheveled white mane out of her eyes and scanned the book’s title—A History of Alchemical Calamities.
Misty stamped a fore hoof in frustration. Her deep blue aura enveloped her horn and the book as she shoved the useless tome back onto the dusty top shelf whence it came. “Where could it be?” she muttered irritably, sapphire eyes flitting over the contents of the next shelf.
“Looking for something in particular?”
The sudden voice startled Misty, but, when she turned, she hid the surprise behind a friendly smile. It quickly became a genuine expression when she saw who it was.
Without her crown gracing her rose-and-purple-striped navy hair, it was almost possible to forget the violet mare was the Princess of Friendship. Almost—Twilight Sparkle’s feathered wings and magical starburst cutie mark were impossible to overlook. Still, it was difficult to think of her the same way Misty thought of the other princesses. Twilight treated everypony like a friend instead of a subject. She made it easy for everypony to see her as just a friend as well; Misty admired her for that.
“Constellations of the Cosmos,” answered Misty Moonrise, resuming her search. “Princess Luna asked me to research the formation of the constellations that can be seen from Equestria. She said that Princess Celestia gave you the book, but I can’t find it anywhere.”
“Hmm…” Twilight Sparkle summoned her magic and selected several books from various bookcases all around the library, scanning their titles as they floated past. “No… No… No… Goodness, you’d think by now I’d learn to remember where I put my books.” She chuckled to herself as she replaced the volumes, magenta aura winking out. “Well, I’ll ask Spike if he’s seen it lately. He usually knows where everything is.”
“Where is Spike?” Misty asked, putting away the other books she had been reading. “I haven’t seen him at all today.”
“He’s helping Rarity collect some gems,” replied Twilight, taking a scroll from a nearby slat and scanning its contents. “It’s his day off, but he’ll do anything for Rarity, especially today.”
“Oh.” Misty closed the last book she had left open—the blue journal Twilight had given her, with her cutie mark of a full moon cradled by a pair of clouds enameled on the cover—and slipped it into her saddlebag. “Well, there’s no need to bother him. The paper isn’t due until next week anyway.”
“Nonsense,” Twilight assured her. “He won’t mind. I’ll just ask him when he gets back.”
A pegasus with a blue postal uniform and bulging satchel flew into the library. In his hooves he carried a bouquet of scarlet roses. “Delivery for Misty Moonrise,” he stated, alighting before the two mares.
When Misty identified herself, the mail pony presented the flowers to her. She reflexively retreated a step. “I think there’s been a mistake.”
“You are Misty Moonrise?”
“Well, yes, but—”
The mail pony proffered the bouquet again. “Then these are for you.”
When Misty hesitated, Twilight Sparkle encircled the crimson blooms with her magic and took them from the pegasus. “Thank you for the speedy delivery, sir,” she said, smiling.
The mail pony tipped his cap and departed.
Twilight glanced quizzically from the roses to Misty. “What’s the matter, Misty? Why didn’t you take the flowers?”
“I… don’t really like roses,” Misty Moonrise answered vaguely.
“But don’t you want to know who sent them? It is Hearts and Hooves Day, after all.”
“It is?” Misty had only given her calendar a cursory glance, not that she gave Hearts and Hooves Day any more thought than any other day. She was much too busy with her studies to bother with romance. Besides, she had never been very good at it.
Twilight Sparkle set the bouquet on the table Misty had just finished clearing. “I bet they’re from Steel Shield.”
“Steel?” Misty could not help but laugh at the absurd notion. “He’d probably get sick hearing you say that, Twilight. We’re just friends, like brother and sister. Besides, he knows better than to send me roses,” she added, settling her saddlebag across her back. She lifted the bouquet and tucked all but one of the roses away, careful not to crush the delicate blooms. “Since it is Hearts and Hooves Day,” Misty acquiesced, “I think I’ll give the flowers to my friends while I’m out on my errands.” She presented the single rose to the princess.
“If you’re sure you don’t want them,” remarked Twilight Sparkle, taking the gift.
“I’m sure,” affirmed Misty Moonrise, heading toward the door. “Could you thank Spike for me for helping with the book if he gets back before I do?”
“Of course, but shouldn’t you—”
“Thanks, Twilight,” Misty called over her shoulder, not hearing Twilight’s afterword.
“—read the card?” Twilight finished, but the unicorn had already left the library. She shook her head with a brief sigh and returned to her duties. Misty would just have to figure things out on her own.
On the steps outside the grand crystal tree castle, Misty Moonrise found her old foalhood friend Steel Shield standing guard at one side of the two-leaved door. He was a tall, muscular pegasus with a mahogany coat and leafy green eyes. His gold-trimmed violet armor, with the magenta six-point star enameled on the breastplate, almost hid his silver shield cutie mark, and his sepia mane was threaded through his helm in neat, military order.
“Hello, Steel,” Misty greeted.
“Hello, Misty,” Steel Shield returned. “Where are you off to?”
“Just the market,” she answered, taking one of the roses out of her bag with a wisp of magic. “Do you need anything while I’m there?”
“No.” Steel regarded the rose quizzically as Misty snipped the stem short with a second tendril of magic. “Why do you have a rose?”
“Somepony sent a whole bouquet to me for Hearts and Hooves Day.” Misty wedged the rose’s shortened stem behind Steel’s breastplate, so the scarlet bloom sat like a corsage beside the enameled star. “I’m giving them away.”
“You are?” queried a new voice.
When Misty turned, she found an earth pony stallion with a dark green coat and crimson eyes approaching. His thunderhead grey mane fell over one eye, and on his flank was a red record with a pine tree through its center. He looked vaguely familiar, but Misty Moonrise could not quite place him.
Still, a poor memory for faces was no reason not to be friendly. “Yes,” Misty answered. “Would you like one…?”
“Hawthorne,” he filled in. “Hawthorne Pine.”
“Would you like one, Hawthorne?” Misty finished, producing another rose from her bag. “There are plenty to go around.”
“Um…” Hawthorne Pine glanced briefly at the flower, ears drooping slightly, but then shook his head. “No, that’s okay. They’re not for me.”
“All right, then.” Misty put away the rose, turning down the path into Ponyville. “I’ll see you later, Steel. It was nice meeting you, Hawthorne.”
Left rooted to the spot, Hawthorne Pine silently watched her go, until she disappeared from sight. Then he sighed quietly to himself and looked glumly down at his hooves.
Steel Shield ribbed him lightly and said, “Don’t take it personally, Pine. Sometimes she has trouble seeing the forest for the trees.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Hawthorne replied, perhaps a bit more defensively than he intended.
Steel chuckled. “You haven’t been able to take your eyes off Misty since the Stallion Challenge. Don’t bother denying it.” He hooked a wing across Hawthorne’s shoulders and drew him closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Listen, Misty’s a good mare, but she’s not what you’d call romantically inclined. You may have to spell things out more clearly before she catches on.”
“I thought I did,” returned Hawthorne, glancing at the rose Misty had given Steel.
“Well, don’t send roses next time.”
“Why not?”
“Misty’s allergic to roses.”
Hawthorne’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really?”
Steel Shield nodded. “When we were foals, she tried to hide in a rose garden during a game of hide-and-seek. I don’t think there’s been another foal in all of Brumbyburg who sneezed so much in one day.”
“Oh…” That’s why she’s giving them away, Hawthorne realized. He did not feel quite so gloomy anymore, knowing that. “What kind of flower does she like, then?”
“Snapdragons,” Steel answered. “I’d give them to her yourself this time, though.”
“Thanks,” said Hawthorne Pine, trotting off in much better spirits than when he arrived.
*
The Ponyville market square was lively as usual, with the vendors hawking their wares over the constant chatter of the browsing customers. Misty would have preferred less of a crowd, but she needed the seeds of several flowers that only bloomed at night to study their growth, as Princess Luna had instructed her the previous night. She had taken notes to help her recognize the seeds. Now she just needed to find somepony who sold them.
Misty was so preoccupied with her search that she paid little attention to the other ponies around her, and, before long, she bumped into somepony. Not just any pony, though—not really a pony at all, with those black and white stripes and stiff mane, golden hoop earrings and dzilla bangles.
“My apologies—you caught me by surprise,” said Zecora, turning. Her mysterious azure eyes glittered upon recognizing Misty. “By my stripes, if it isn’t Misty Moonrise!”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Zecora,” Misty apologized. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
“No harm was done, my pony friend,” Zecora assured her. “It’s good seeing you again. It’s been a long time indeed since last we spoke. Your teacher must keep you hard beneath the yoke.”
“Yes, Princess Luna does keep me busy, but I don’t mind.” Misty Moonrise withdrew one of the roses and presented it to the zebra. “Would you like one of them, for Hearts and Hooves Day?”
Zecora’s ears perked up and she smiled, delighted. “A rose as red as a ruby gem! A lovely gift for ‘her’ from ‘him’. But why do you speak as if there are more? Did a special somepony call at your door?”
Misty gave the rose to Zecora, who tucked it into her satchel, leaving only the bloom poking out. Then the two walked the market square as Misty explained about the bouquet and her allergy. By the time they came full circle, Misty had acquired the seeds for which she had braved the throngs.
“Perhaps you should give this admirer another chance,” advised Zecora as they prepared to part ways. “He was not to know the red blooms would not attract your glance.”
“Oh, I’m too busy to bother with all that. Besides…” Misty paused, averting her gaze. “I wouldn’t be a very good choice. I’m not exactly the most social or desirable mare in Ponyville.”
Zecora smiled gently. “All of us make mistakes, and we must take them in stride. But how can you know anything if you never try?”
Misty Moonrise shook her head. “It’s never that simple, or that easy, especially not for me. But thanks for the advice anyway, Zecora.”
Watching the mare go, Zecora chuckled quietly. “I would not worry, Misty Moonrise,” she murmured to herself. “I believe today will change your mind.”
*
After a late lunch at her friend Juniper Berry’s café, Misty was passing by Sugar Cube Corner when she spotted a pair of familiar faces through the window. Inside the sweetshop, Misty found the two earth pony mares seated at a table laden with strawberry malts and pink-frosted pastries. The smaller of the pair may have been mistaken for a filly if you did not already know her. With her dark periwinkle coat splashed with white on the hindquarters, deep blue braids and tousled forelock, and huge magenta eyes, Nightingale always looked on the verge of bursting into song—which was often the case, as denoted by the rosy heart and music note on her flank. Beside her was the proprietor of the café Misty had just left. Blue as the sky, with bouncy rose-and-teal-striped curls, a sprig of purple juniper berries cutie mark, and twinkling cyan eyes, Juniper Berry was usually one of the most cheerful ponies in the room. Now, slumped over the table and head in her hooves, she looked as if the sweets were getting the best of her.
Nightingale noticed Misty first and, beaming, waved for her to join them. As she approached, Misty Moonrise accidentally bumped into another of the sweetshop’s patrons, causing him to drop a heart-shaped gift box of candies. Misty immediately picked up the box with a flicker of magic and began to apologize, but then she saw the pony into whom she had quite literally run.
“Hello again, Hawthorne,” said Misty, a bit surprised to see the stallion twice in the same day. She floated the gift box over to him as she spoke. “Sorry. I seem to be bumping into everypony today.”
“No, it’s fine,” replied Hawthorne Pine, reclaiming the candy box. “I wasn’t really paying attention either.”
Misty laughed lightly. “Well, aren’t we a pair?”
An almost tender smile spread across Hawthorne’s face. After a stretched, somewhat awkward silence, however, he cleared his throat and asked, holding out the heart-shaped box, “Would you…? I mean… That is—” He fumbled for a moment, searching for the right words.
Thinking he meant to offer her one of the sweets, Misty Moonrise inched back a step and shook her head. “Oh, no, thank you,” she said, trying to decline politely. “Candy tends to give me headaches.”
Hawthorne’s ears drooped slightly. “Oh—”
“Besides, those are for your special somepony, right?”
His ears perked up again. “Yeah—”
“Then there shouldn’t be any sweets missing,” Misty went on, turning away. “Your special somepony deserves the whole box.”
“Well—”
“Actually, why don’t you give her a rose with it? I gave most of them away during lunch, but I think there are a couple left—”
This time, Hawthorne managed to squeeze a word in. “She doesn’t like roses very much.”
“Really?” wondered Misty, setting her saddlebag down on the floor beside Nightingale’s and Juniper Berry’s table. “I thought I was the only mare who didn’t like roses. Small world. Well, it was nice seeing you again, Hawthorne. Good luck with your special somepony.”
Hawthorne Pine released a disparaging sigh and started for the exit. “Yeah, thanks,” he mumbled as he left Sugar Cube Corner.
Misty stared after him for a time, puzzled by how suddenly gloomy the stallion had become. She looked to her friends and asked, “Did I say something wrong?”
Nightingale just rolled her eyes. Juniper Berry, on the other hoof, stretched across the table, knocking aside dishes and glasses, grabbed Misty’s shoulders in both fore hooves, and shook her vigorously.
“How in Equestria could you do that to him?!” Juniper exclaimed, horrified. “No-pony does that on Hearts and Hooves Day! What sort of monster are you?! You completely broke his heart!”
For a moment, Misty was too dizzy to respond. Once Nightingale swatted away Juniper’s grip with her braided tail and Misty could see straight again, Juniper’s words struck home. “What are you talking about? All I did was—”
“Break. His. Heart!” Juniper overrode, fuming. “On Hearts and Hooves Day!”
Misty winced at her friend’s harsh shouts, ears falling. “But I didn’t—” she began meekly.
“No! Not another word!” Juniper Berry hopped off her stool and trotted out the door, not giving Misty a second glance.
At a loss, Misty Moonrise turned to Nightingale.
After a long silence, during which Misty waited anxiously beneath the little mare’s cool, disappointed stare, Nightingale finally spoke. “Hon, at this rate, ya’re studyin’ t’ be a halfwit,” she drawled. “Ya don’t even know what Jun’per was jawin’ ’bout, do ya?”
Misty shook her head.
Nightingale sighed, resigned, and climbed off her seat to stand next to Misty. “It’s Hearts’n Hooves Day, right?”
Misty nodded.
“What do ponies do on Hearts’n Hooves Day?”
Afraid she might say something else wrong, Misty just shrugged.
“Sweet Celestia,” Nightingale muttered, rubbing one temple. “Lemme try again. On Hearts’n Hooves Day, ponies give gifts t’ ponies they like—t’ their special somepony, or t’ somepony they’d like t’ be their special somepony. Gifts like flowers, chocolates…” She paused, waiting for Misty to catch on.
Abruptly, Misty gasped. “You don’t mean…?”
Nightingale nodded.
“But then I…”
“Yep,” agreed Nightingale. “Ya made a right fool o’ yerself.”
Misty Moonrise fell quiet for a time, stunned by the realization. Then she glanced at her saddlebag, wherein lay the remnants of the rose bouquet. “But he didn’t tell me the roses were from him… How could I know they were from him if he didn’t tell me?”
Nightingale exhaled exasperatedly and headed for the exit. “Didn’t ya even bother t’ read the card?”
Left alone with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Misty lifted the flap of her bag and peered inside. There was only one rose left, nestled amidst a scattering of stray petals and leaves. She encircled the solitary flower with her magic and shifted it aside to uncover a folded slip of pale pink paper. Setting the rose down, Misty raised the card to eye level, flipped it open, and read:
For a very special somepony,
For an angel from a shining star:
May these flowers bring you great joy, for
Love is in bloom wherever you are.
Happy Hearts and Hooves Day
—Hawthorne Pine
Guilt ran cold in Misty’s veins as she read and reread the brief, though no less heartfelt and moving message. Each time, the reality of what she had done to Hawthorne stabbed deeper and deeper. She may not have realized what she was doing, but there were no excuses. Her gaze shifted to the lonely rose. Summoning her magic, Misty clipped the long stem short and tucked it into her mane. Not long after, she began to sneeze, but she did not care anymore.
What have I done?
*
As day gave to dusk, Steel Shield, off-duty and no longer in his armor, entered the castle library. Misty had been missing for hours now, and this was the last place anypony remembered seeing her. He had barely begun to scan the room when somepony descended into a fit of violent sneezing. However, except for Steel, there were no other ponies in sight.
Following the noise, Steel Shield found a tuft of white tail sticking out from beneath a table. He crouched to get a better look, and there was Misty Moonrise, curled up on the floor with a rose in her mane and a pink notecard open beside her. If not for the absolute dejection upon her face, she would have looked just like a filly in a game of hide-and-seek.
“Olly olly oxen free,” said Steel, trying to cheer her up.
Misty’s eyes flickered toward him, but other than that she did not move.
“Bad day?”
She jerked in another sneeze, nearly bumping her ahead in the process.
“Gesundhoof.”
“… Steel, I’ve done something awful,” Misty finally admitted.
“Ah,” Steel realized. “Finally figured it out, huh?”
Misty nodded sadly. “But why didn’t I see it sooner? Everypony else did.”
Steel Shield glanced at the table under which Misty lay. “So you decided to deal with the situation by moping around under a table?”
“Of course not,” Misty snapped, scowling indignantly at him. “I looked for Hawthorne all over Ponyville, but I couldn’t find him anywhere.”
“Probably because he doesn’t live in Ponyville.”
Misty straightened at Steel’s words and asked, earnest, “You know where he lives?”
“Yeah, he has a pine tree farm just north of town,” explained Steel. “It’s a little out of the way, but it’s easy to find.” He then gave directions on how to reach the Pine farm from the castle.
Misty Moonrise leapt out from under the table and hugged Steel tightly in thanks. Then she galloped out of the library—there was still time to fix things before Hearts and Hooves Day ended.
*
The Pine family farm lived up to its namesake, for, beyond the fence, the hills were blanketed with great swathes of pine trees. Ancient elder pines towered above the smaller youth like shepherds among a flock of sheep, doting and watchful. The interwoven canopy of needles was so thick, and the trees so numerous and tightly knitted, that there was scarcely any underbrush. The roots seemed to seep out of the earth like knobby spider webs, patterning the forest floor with woody lace. Sap glistened on the bark, glazed dry in some places and still wet and oozing in others. The path wound through the evergreens like a twisting serpent, grooved by the wheels of heavily laden wagons and well-worn from the tread of many hooves.
Out of sight of the property fences, a clearing opened amid the forest; almost like a meadow it was, with grass lush and verdant and a sparkling creek wending from the depths of the forest. A two-story log cabin stood to one side, the windows’ shutters thrown open and their sashes raised. Beside it was a small shed, the door of which had been left open to reveal the crafting implements of a logger and carpenter. Nearer the creek, a pavilion had been expertly fashioned from a small grove of trees, with their trunks as the poles and their branches tightly woven to provide supporting beams and roof. In its shelter were high piles of lumber, some freshly cut, some stripped of their park, and others stripped and sanded smooth.
As Misty Moonrise wandered the meadow in search of Hawthorne, a peculiarly familiar sound issued from within the cabin. She went to one of the open windows and peeked inside. Accompanying the sofa, cushioned chairs, and other household furniture were a stereo system and turntable, on which lay a pair of bright red records. Separate from the turntable was an unassuming vintage record player. It was from this that the sound—which Misty now recognized as the music of the metal band Maretallica—came; the record had been left playing.
“Misty?”
Startled, Misty whirled around, whereupon she found the very pony for whom she had come all this way. In one hoof, Hawthorne Pine carried a bouquet of burgundy and lavender snapdragons.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, stopping before her. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
“I was—” Misty turned away briefly as a ferocious sneeze assaulted her.
“Gesundhoof.”
“Thanks.” Misty paused to make sure another sneeze would not follow, and then returned her attention to Hawthorne. “I was looking for you, too. I wanted to apologize for… well, everything.”
Another tender smile brightened Hawthorne’s face. “You don’t have to apologize for anything, Misty.”
“But I do,” she insisted. “If I had taken the time to appreciate a gift—even if it were something I wouldn’t normally want or like—I wouldn’t have so thoughtlessly given it away… and I wouldn’t have hurt you. I should have been more considerate and realized that my actions might—” She sneezed again. “—hurt somepony else.”
Hawthorne glanced at the rose in her mane. “You don’t have to keep that, you know, especially since you’re allergic.”
“I want to,” Misty said sincerely.
“How about this: I’ll trade these snapdragons for that rose,” offered Hawthorne, holding out the bouquet to Misty.
She hesitated momentarily, then realized this was another gift she should not inconsiderately cast away. Misty began to summon her magic, but then just took the rose from her mane with a fore hoof. She and Hawthorne exchanged the flowers, though Hawthorne simply kicked the rose into the tall grass. Misty Moonrise, however, breathed deeply of the snapdragons’ aroma and smiled.
“Do you like them?” asked Hawthorne Pine.
Misty nodded. “Snapdragons are my favorite. Thank you.” Then she sighed quietly. “You’ve been so wonderful to me, Hawthorne, but I’ve been so horrible to you. I wish there was something I could give you to make up for that.”
“You don’t have to give me anything,” Hawthorne assured her. “Your smile is enough.”
Misty chuckled. “You’re sweet,” she said, “but that won’t change my mind.” She racked her brain for something—anything—that she could give Hawthorne to show what all he had done today meant to her. Suddenly, an idea twinkled in her eyes. Misty extended her free fore hoof toward Hawthorne and said, “I know what. Take my hoof.”
Hawthorne hesitated for an instant, but linked his fore hoof with Misty’s nonetheless. Sapphire magic glittered around Misty’s horn, and in a shimmer of stardust they vanished from the Pine farm.
In the blink of an eye, they reappeared upon the crest of a grassy hill that rose high above its brethren. In the last dregs of light clinging to the western horizon, Hawthorne Pine and Misty Moonrise could see the clustered buildings of Ponyville. The castle presiding over the town sparkled in the dusk, reflecting and refracting the dying mural of pink and orange receding beneath the descending shadows of night. The Everfree Forest lurked like an inky pool south of Ponyville, and the dark ribbon of river wended past from its birth at the Canterlot falls to the west. In the distance to the northeast, the hazy ghost of Foal Mountain loomed like an ephemeral specter. Above and stretching seemingly forever in all directions lay the deepening night sky, stars winking into silvery existence with the vanishing daylight. A pale, crescent moon rose slowly from its daily slumber as the sun at last withdrew to a sleep of its own.
“Wow!” Hawthorne exclaimed, astonished by how far away they were from his farm. It was only a murky blur in the quilted landscape north of Ponyville now. “How did you do that?”
“I’ve been practicing,” answered Misty, setting her snapdragons down and examining the velvet sky. She found just the right spot and sat down there. “A teleportation spell isn’t the important part, though. Sit here,” she instructed, indicating the grass beside her. Once Hawthorne had joined her, Misty pointed at a patch of sky. “Look there. Don’t look away.” When Hawthorne was doing that as well, Misty Moonrise summoned her magic again.
At first, Hawthorne did not quite understand at what he was supposed to be looking. Then something flickered at the corner of his eye, and then something else twinkled at the other edge of his vision. Suddenly, he realized that the stars were moving. Everywhere, like glittering silver fireflies, the stars began to float across the sky in a celestial dance. It was a silent orchestra, a choreographed painting; as if putting on a great show, the heavens twirled and reeled, dipped and spun, flared and dimmed in cosmic rhythm.
When the stars finally ceased their antics, they had come together in words written of stardust:
For a very special somepony,
Who chooses the lovely every time:
May these stars be a gift to you, for
Teaching me how to love, Hawthorne Pine.
Hawthorne smiled and murmured, “Best gift ever.”
“Happy Hearts and Hooves Day, Hawthorne,” said Misty Moonrise, leaning against him.
“Happy Hearts and Hooves Day, Misty.”