March-makersby ObabScribblerChaptersDay 1: Queen Chrysalis/Noteworthy (tragedy)Day 2: Rarity/Shining Armor (romance/drama)Day 3: Fancy Pants/Svengallop (romance/fluff)Day 4: Marble Pie/Prince Blueblood (romance/slice-of-life/uplifting)Day 5: Fleur De Lis/Big Macintosh (romance/slice-of-life/uplifting/drama)Day 6: Spitfire/Flash Sentry (romance/sadfic)Day 7: Cadence/Tirek (grimdark)Day 9: Sapphire Shores/Countess Coloratura (romance/fluff)Day 10: Limestone Pie/Starlight Glimmer (romance/comedy/slice-of-life)Day 11: Princess Luna/Nightmare Moon (darkfic)Day 12: Noteworthy/Fleur De Lis (romance/sadfic)Day 13: Sunset Shimmer/Fluttershy (romance/fluff)Day 14: Golden Harvest/Braeburn (sadfic)Day 15: Princess Luna/Gilda (sadfic/drama/uplifting/romance)Day 17: Cadence/Nightmare Moon (slice-of-life/darkfic)Day 18: Fluttershy/Spitfire (romance/uplifting)Day 19: Discord/Sunset Shimmer (comedy/action)Day 20: Trixie/Starlight Glimmer (comedy/romance)Day 21: Sombra/Gilda (comedy)Day 22: Apple Bloom/Apple Bloom (grimdark)Day 23: Trixie/Pinkie Pie (Tragedy)Day 25: Derpy Hooves/Nightmare Moon (darkfic)Day 8: Rainbow Dash/Celestia (romance/comedy)Day 16: Photo Finish/Princess Celestia (darkfic)Day 24: Rainbow Dash/Princess Luna (romance/comedy)Day 1: Queen Chrysalis/Noteworthy (tragedy)Title: Last Breath Pairing: Chrysalis/Noteworthy He approached the throne carefully, dragging one hind leg. His queen kept up her baleful stare until he halted at a respectful distance and sank into an awkward bow. “Majesty.” “Report.” Her voice was clipped and toneless. “Ponyville is … l-lost.” He tamped down a cough. She sucked in a sharp breath through her nostrils in what he assumed to be anger. Keeping his head low, he waited for her response. “How?” “The librarian … T-Twilight Spark-kle.” The cough tickled the back of his throat. “A spell, my liege. She c-cast a spell to … dispel illusions. Cast over the whole t-town from a … b-balloon.” It almost made him want to laugh. He had commented to Lyra only last week on how that hot air balloon went to waste when it could be used to better the town. He had meant by renting it out to other ponies and their businesses for advertising. Instead, it had been used to rain down destruction in glittering pieces of magic. “The citizens … we were all stripped of our disguises. They p-panicked … mobbed … only a few of us g-got out.” “Where are the others?” “Captured.” He shut his eyes. “At least three were killed. Twilight Sparkle called for them to merely be restrained but the crowd … they were out of c-control. St … am … pede … hrrk!” The cough exploded from him in a shower of green blood. Without his permission, his body pitched forward and refused to obey when he tried to rise. He must have faded out for a moment, because the next thing he knew, his queen was cradling his head. He blinked up at her, confused. “My liege, you m-mustn’t …” “Hush,” she snapped. “Lay still.” Her horn glowed. He felt warmth moving through his body, like being in front of a fire after a day of throwing snowballs with friends. Thoughts of Lyra, Bon-Bon, Minuette and Caramel flashed through his brain. The look Lyra had given him when he changed form right in front of her: betrayal only just covered it. He hoped she hadn’t been part of the mob that cornered him and the other exposed changelings. Lyra put up a zany front but she was a soft soul. It had been so easy to sip from her love whenever Bon-Bon came to bring her lunch, or even just when he got her talking about her marefriend. She would never forgive herself if she thought she was responsible for his – “Hrrk! Krrrkah!” Blood splattered his queen’s downturned face. A large green globule dropped off her snout. “M-My queen!” he said, aghast. “I ap-pologi–” “Hush,” she said, much softer than before. He felt the warmth inside him prod at his hurts: at his cracked carapace, broken horn and half-severed leg. He sighed, even though none of them magically fixed themselves. Her horn ceased to glow. The warmth inside him, however, maintained. “Drone 23345, what name did you go by on your placement?” His vision blurred. “N-Noteworthy, my queen,” he said with difficulty. “I posed as a stallion c-called … Noteworthy…” She gently touched her forehead to his. He felt her love flow over him, through him, into him, filling him up. He realised with absolute clarity just how much she cared beneath her icy exterior. She loved all changelings with a deep and abiding emotion. And at this moment, this single crystalline moment, she loved him most of all. “You did well, Noteworthy,” she murmured. “You deserve to rest now.” “M-my … my …” “Rest, dear Noteworthy.” With a happy sigh, he closed his eyes and allowed the darkness to claim him. Day 2: Rarity/Shining Armor (romance/drama)Title: Don't Say a Word Pairing: Shining Armour/Rarity “Package for youuuu!” Derpy trilled. “Miss Hooves.” Rarity stepped daintily off her doorstep. “While I, ah, appreciate the early morning wakeup call on top of the sterling service you and the Equestrian Royal Mail provide.” She lit her horn. “Would it be possible not to have it come at the expense of my mail box for once?” Derpy giggled. “Yeah. Sorry about that. I swear, I don’t even know how this happens.” Rarity sighed and gently pushed the pegasus backwards to free her head from the misshapen mailbox. “It’s a mystery for the ages, darling.” Derpy’s head came out with a loud pop. “Now, you say you have a package for me? “Uh-huh!” Derpy held it aloft. “All the way from the Crystal Empire!” Rarity’s heart nearly stopped. “Keep your voice down!” She cleared her throat, the better to rid herself of that panicked hiss, and continued. “It’s, ah, very early in the day, darling. My neighbours may still be abed.” “Oh. Whoops. Sorry.” Derpy held out the brown-paper-wrapped box. “It’s a bit rattly. I hope I didn’t break anything.” Her ears drooped. “You won’t tell my supervisor if I did … will you? I can totally fly to the Crystal Empire and replace whatever it is. I just really, really need this job –” “No, thank you, that won’t be necessary.” Rarity accepted the box and trotted back inside with all speed. “Well, I won’t keep you. Have a nice day.” “Huh? Oh! Yeah! Totally! Have a nice-” The end of Derpy’s sentence was lost behind the slam of the front door. Rarity shot the bolt home, just in case. Thank heavens Sweetie Belle wasn’t visiting this weekend. Rarity loved her sister but there was no more curious foal in all Equestria. She would ask questions upon questions upon questions, and this was something Rarity could not face questions over. Mainly because she didn’t want to think about the answers. With quick efficiency she removed the brown paper and the gift-wrap beneath. The little box was velveteen. It creaked lightly as she opened it. Inside, a bracelet of exquisitely cut gems glittered in the early morning light. Breath catching in her throat, she read the small piece of paper folded up and twined beneath it on its small black cushion. ‘Still thinking about you. Looking forward to the next time you visit. Will be the Crystal Catwalk Week next month. Hope you’re competing. Those dressing rooms are more soundproofed than guestrooms in the palace.’ She held the bit of paper to her chest, where it wrinkled in the tightness of her grip. Her whole body underwent a powerful ache that had her biting her lip. It was wrong. She knew it was wrong. He was a married stallion, and a new father to boot. This whole thing should have ended months ago when Cadence first told him about the foal. No, it should have ended after their first unexpected, hurried encounter in her workroom the night before his wedding, when they could have put it all down to Chrysalis messing with his mind and jumbling up his thoughts so he didn’t know what he was doing. But it hadn’t. And it wouldn’t. She had submitted her entry form for Crystal Catwalk Week the moment it was announced. “Oh dear,” she murmured, trying her best to dispel memories of slabbed muscles pressed against her back and hot breath in her ear, whispering her name with something between a happy sigh and a heart-rending sob. The note levitated into the air. It incinerated and the ash dropped neatly into the trashcan hovering beneath. She replaced it in the corner and snapped the jewelery box shut. Tucking it into her dressing gown pocket, she went to get ready for the day like everything was perfectly normal and she didn’t have the power to bring down a royal family kept in a line of velveteen boxes in her bedside drawer. Day 3: Fancy Pants/Svengallop (romance/fluff)Title: A Challenge Worth Taking: Part 1 Pairing: Fancy Pants/Svengallop “And then, do you know what she had the gall to say to me? Do you know what she had the sheer gall to say to me!?” “Mmm. No.” “She told me I was a hack! That has been! That no-good, no-account layabout trailer trash nag called me a hack! And then she fired me! I mean, I ask you, is that fair?” “Mmm. No.” “Fancy.” Svengallop pushed away the face burrowing against his neck. “It is incredibly hard to throw a hissy fit with you nuzzling me all the time.” Fancy Pants drew back, the tip of a loosened cravat between his teeth. It fluttered down like gossamer when he spoke. “That’s rather the idea, old bean.” His glasses were on the nightstand but his eyes glinted just as much without them. Nonetheless, not to be deterred from his own querulousness, Svengallop folded his forelegs and grumped, “You always try to shut me up with sex.” “You’ve never complained before.” “I always had a job before.” “You’ll get another one.” “Not of that calibre. Do you know how hard I had to work to create The Countess from that sow’s ear? She smelled of dirt and chewed hay while she talked when I first met her. But I saw her potential. I nurtured it. I worked my flank off for her!” “And rather a sumptuous flank it is, too.” “Fancy!” “What? It is.” “You’re not taking me seriously!” With a resigned sigh, Fancy Pants sat back on the mattress. His mane slewed sideways, covering one half of his face in a very rakish fashion that would have had all the mares of Canterlot high society swooning at his hooves. Too bad he would jump over them all to reach the stallion on the other side. “Sven, I apologise if you think I don’t care about this, but from my perspective, you’ve shed a dead weight. Coloratura had clearly run her course. By this time next year, her album will be in the bargain bin of music stores everywhere and you’ll have a new client who will be much more grateful – and deserving of your talents.” Svengallop averted his face sullenly. “Remember The Undulating Rocks?” “Yes,” came the grunted reply. “And The Creepy Crawlies?” “Yes.” “And Tailor Fastfoot?” “Yeeees.” “You still managed to snag a nopony from nowhere and turn her into a star bigger than all those previous clients combined. You’ll be able to do it again. You’ve got the gift, Sven. I’ve seen you fall down like this and then pick yourself up again. It’s one of the things I admire most about you.” “You do?” Svengallop turned to him in surprise. Fancy Pants nodded. “I wish I had your tenacity. I’ll be the first to admit I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth. I never really had to work hard for anything. I went to the finest schools, had the finest clothes, attended the finest parties and met the finest ponies, and none of it impressed me because I didn’t have to work for it. You, on the other hoof.” His smile quirked one half of his mouth in a way that was eminently photogenic. “You, I had to work for. You wouldn’t give me the time of day when we first met. You were a challenge. I wasn’t used to it. And the more I got to know you, the more I realised you weren’t just a challenge for me, you’re a challenge for the whole world. No matter how many times it tries to know you down, you just won’t stay down. That’s very, very attractive.” “You’ve never said any of this before.” Fancy’s smile faltered for just a second. “Well, I … I’ve never had cause to.” He coughed into his hoof. “I didn’t want you to think you were just another one of my conquests.” “Oh pish posh.” Svengallop rolled his eyes. “The notches in your bedpost are as fictional as Fleur’s eyelashes.” Fancy chuckled. “Now, now, keep the bitching for when we see her tomorrow for dinner. Or actually, don’t. She’s bringing her new beau and she’ll have my guts for garters if I allow you to show her up.” “You don’t allow me to do anything! I am my own Celestia-damned pony, thank you very much!” The smile solidified again. “See what I mean? Such a challenge.” He growled softly under his breath. The conversation devolved quickly after that. Like gossamer taking wing, the cravat drifted to softly cover the eyeglasses on the nightstand. The jacket that followed knocked over the light, which fell to the floor with a thump. Neither stallion was in much position to care at that moment. Later, however, Svengallop grubbed around in the dark to find it and switch it on. “Mrrf, what’re you going?” Fancy Pants asked from under the sheets. “I need to fetch a pen-knife.” “Excuse me? What for?” “I’m carving a notch on your bedpost.” Author's Note I was so tempted to add 'schmoopy' to the genre of this story. Schmoopy is a word that needs to be used more. Schmoopy. Schmoopy, schmoopy, scmoopy. Day 4: Marble Pie/Prince Blueblood (romance/slice-of-life/uplifting)Title: Glitters of Ashes Tonight Pairing: Marble Pie/Prince Blueblood “Come on Marble! You can’t just stay here by the drinks table all night.” Marble did her best to hide her whole body in its whole frilly dress behind her mane. Needless to say, this didn’t work. Pinkie Pie regarded her with the closest thing she could get to sadness. “Aren’t you enjoying the Gala at all?” “Mmhmm.” She nodded emphatically. The colours and bright lights and beautiful ponies were thrilling. She just wished she was watching everything from behind tinted glass so nopony else could see her and recognise how much she didn’t belong among them. “Pinkie Pie!” The gigantic twisting snake-goat creature curled into existence beside them from literally nothing. One second she was staring into her sister’s eyes, the next the monster in a top hat and tails was between them. Marble squeaked and only just resisted diving under the table. “It’s your turn, my dear. Fluttershy sent me to fetch you.” “My turn?” Pinkie seemed nonplussed. “To sing. Don’t tell me you forgot?” The snake thing’s lower lip quivered. “Your duet with Fluttershy. She won’t go on without you.” “OhmygoshItotallyspacedonthatohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh!” Pinkie vibrated in place like a bottle of soda full of mints. “Marble, please try to dance with somepony at least once while we’re here? For me?” Marble shrank back so much, hut butt hit the table. “Or if not for me, then for poor Maudie?” She froze, the vision of Maud, sick in bed and unable to use her ticket, firmly planting itself in her mind’s eye. Marble may have been timid and folded under pressure more than a cheap tin can, but she loved her sisters more than anything. “M-mmhmm,” she said, trying to sound convincing. “Pinkie Piiiiie!” whined the snake monster. “Okay, okay, okay, Discoooooord,” Pinkie replied, bouncing away. Marble remained where she was, only slightly bruised that Pinkie had assumed she would not follow to watch the performance. She toed the expensive tiled flooring for a while, eyed the punch, discarded the idea of drinking any and spent five minutes concentrating furiously on picking all the tiny pieces of shredded spinach off a cold boiled potato plucked from the salad tray. When it was bald of greenery she studied it. It looked like one of Maud’s beloved rocks. Instantly, she thought of her elder sister and was unable to squash the pang of guilt that came with it. Maudie would enjoy this party so much more than me. She deserves to be here, not me. I’m so useless. So many ponies would give their left hind leg to attend the Grand Galloping Gala and I can’t even do this right. I’m so – oh! Squeezed involuntarily tight in her hoof, the greasy potato popped free. It sailed in a wide arc through the air. Marble realised its destination seconds before it landed. She tried to summon a shout, but all that came out was a useless squeak. “Oh!” cried the stallion, brushing at his mane. “I say! What the blue blazes was that?” Marble blushed crimson as his eyes fixed on her. “Did you … did you just throw something at me?” he asked, apparently dumbstruck at the very notion. She shook her head, simultaneously trying to draw it into her body, tortoise-style. She covered her face with one whole foreleg, sinking to the floor in such abject misery that her legs refused to hold her up anymore. This was a mistake. This whole party was a mistake. She wasn’t bubbly Pinkie Pie who understood parties and ponies and how to deal with both at the same time. She wasn’t Limestone, who would have challenged anypony to make fun of her with just one vicious glare. She wasn’t even stoic Maud, whom nothing seemed to bother, much less fluster. She was just stupid, useless, pathetic Marble. “Oh my.” Footsteps hastily trotted up to her. “Are you ill?” She continued to barely hold in her sobs. “Do you need some fresh air? Come, come now, you’re making a scene.” Startlingly, a pair of strong forelegs heaved her upright and manoeuvred her away from the refreshment table, towards the door to outside. “She’s with me. Just getting some air, doncha know,” the stallion said to the guard as they passed. Once outdoors she expected him to let go, but he keeps pushing her until they reached a tiny stone patio with a granite bench onto which he unceremoniously plopped her down. “There now. If you’re going to vomit, you’re safely out of sight.” “Mmm … hmm …” she said, trying to form ‘thank you’ and failing miserably. “I guess Goldenmane spiked the punch after all. Funny; he never usually gets away with it. The staff are always watching like hawks. It does make it dashedly difficult to pull off even the simplest of jests at events like these. Quite impressive that he managed it this time. How much did you drink?” Marble shook her head. “You didn’t drink? Well then, why are you acting like some common louche drunk?” Her shoulders hunched. She bent further over and finally let her tears flow. “Oh sweet Celestia, now you’re crying. I never know how to deal with crying mares. Um … um … oh yes. Right. Here.” She looked up to see a handkerchief thrust under her nose. “Well?” he said impatiently. “You’re supposed to accept it. I read up on etiquette after the last disastrous time I came to this bloody event and I know for a fact that if a gentlecolt offers a mare his hankie, she is obliged to take it as a favour.” Marble sniffed, choking on her words. She shook her head and made a circling gesture between them with her hooftip. “What?” He scowled at her. “It’s the other way around? Argh!” He practically flung the piece of monogrammed fabric at her and clasped his face with both hooves. “I was born into high society and I still can’t remember all these petty, putrid, pustulous rules of etiquette. Life was so much simpler when I just didn’t bother with them at all!” Marble caught the fluttering hankie before it hit the ground. She looked at it, then at him. Sniffing, she dabbed delicately at her eyes. He saw her and gave her truculent nod, but it was clear he wanted to be someplace else. Marble could understand that. It was the way all ponies except her sisters got around her. Even her parents ran out of patience with her eventually. The stallion sat down on the stone bench. “Ugh, if it weren’t for social obligation, I wouldn’t bother with this blasted event at all.” Marble must have looked surprised, because he rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, I know: it’s the talk of the town, the thing on everypony’s lips, the places where everypony whom everypony should know goes to see and be seen. But I’ve been attending since I was a colt and quite frankly I’ve found it increasingly irksome every year. I skipped it altogether last year. Faked an illness. It was marvellous. I gave the staff the night off and kept the whole wing of the castle to myself.” He seemed to realise what he was saying and sat a little straighter. “Uh, I mean … it’s just such a shoddy production since Auntie Celestia started letting the riffraff in.” Auntie Celestia? Marble’s eyes widened. Then that mean … if she recalled Pinkie’s stories correctly … this had to be … He looked up at her squeak. “What the blue blazes is wrong with you?” She shook her head frantically. He raised his eyes to the heavens. “Mares. I shan’t ever understand them. If it’s not wanting to be treated like royalty, it’s acting like we threw dog dirt in your face when we do pay you compliments. Make up your blasted minds, will you?” Marble just stared at him. Prince Blueblood leaned back. “You’re rather easy to talk to.” “Mmhmm?” “Yes. And you provide a nice distraction to get me out of that party for a while.” She coughed daintily into her hoof as a ‘you’re welcome’. Two voices rose above all the others inside. Marble recognised Pinkie’s, but the other breathy one wasn’t one she could immediately place. Prince Blueblood wrinkled his nose. “Karaoke. I ask you. This event is going to the dogs.” Marble liked dogs. Father had never let her have one though. He said they had no place on a rock farm and Mother had complained about the potential for hairs on the furniture. Why couldn’t she just have a pet rock, like her sisters? She flattened the hankie against her skirt, studiously not looking at Blueblood. “Oh, don’t bother. I won’t want that back.” She paused to almost raise her gaze at him, but settled for looking at his hooves. “Mmhmm?” “I’ll just get new ones. You keep that rotten old thing.” She allowed her eyebrows to tick ever so slightly downward. He sighed aggressively. “No, not because you’re riffraff. I just prefer … fresher items of clothing and suchlike.” His gaze lingered half a second too long on her bodice before shifting away. Marble looked down at her gown. It had been her mother’s. It was a little old fashioned but she thought it was pretty. She sighed. He was the second pony to comment on it. He hadn’t fainted like Pinkie’s friend, but still. Marble sagged a little. “What? What?” Blueblood snorted. “Don’t cry again.” He paused, as if thinking hard, then added sullenly, “Please.” She frowned at his hooves. It was possibly the most aggressive thing she had ever done. It had the effect of a sparrow pecking a dragon. “Is there something on my hooves?” he cried in disgust, raising each one to inspect. “I just had a hooficure!” Marble’s mouth fell open. A stallion having a hooficure? Her father would have conniptions at the very idea. She thought of Applejack’s brother and his big, soup-plate hooves. All the stallions she had ever met used their hooves for working and would never even think about taking care of them with primping and polishing. Strangely, she found the idea … intriguing. She cleared her throat. Blueblood put his hooves down with a relieved sigh. “Still perfect.” He tipped his head back. “It’s rather nice out here. The last time I went for a walk outside during the Gala, I was expected to keep complimenting the mare I was with. Ugh, it was ghastly. She thought that just because I’d shown her a modicum of interest, we were automatically an item, and tried to monopolise my whole evening.” He frowned. “Though … I did let her get covered in cake for me. So … I think that made us even. I think. Fancy Pants informed me that I was a dreadful boor all evening, so maybe not.” He scowled at the moon. “It’s all very confusing and aggravating. He made me read all these books on manners and refused to let me attend any of his social events until I could prove I’d read them. I mean, it’s not like it was his wife I insulted! Though … I don’t think that makes it any better.” Marble was at a loss for what to say, so she opted for an eloquent, “Mmhmm.” “Ugh. You’re possibly right. That’s very annoying.” Blueblood transferred his gaze back to the doors into the Gala. “All the same, I don’t think I wish to go back inside just yet.” “Mmhmm,” she agreed. Strange as he was, she felt much more comfortable out here talking to him than in there trying not to be a wallflower amongst so many glittering ponies. They sat in silence for a long while. It wasn’t nearly as strained as Marble would have expected. Crickets chirped. Somewhere, an owl hooted and ducks quacked on a midnight swim across the royal pond. The karaoke inside thrummed a steady rhythm as a male voice joined Pinkie and her friend. It sounded a lot like the snake monster. “Dash it all!” Blueblood cursed suddenly, making Marble jump. “I didn’t ask your name. I’m fairly certain that was in one of those blasted books. So, what’s your … wait. No.” He took a beleaguered breath. “May I enquire as to your name, my … dear?” He seemed to struggle with the last word. Marble stared at him. “Mmm…” She paused. “Mmmmmmarble,” she squeezed out. “I’mmmm Mmmmmarble. It’s … mmmmost pleasant t-to … mmmmmeet you.” He looked at her strangely, as if her speech impediment was something he had never before come across in his life. She wondered if he was going to insult her now. On instinct, she ducked her head to hide her face behind her mane. Instead, he took her hoof and kissed it, producing a blush so intense she was surprised her whole head didn’t melt. “Lovely to meet you, Miss Marble. I’m Prince Blueblood.” Author's Note Title taken from this quote: “Rejoice with glitters of ashes tonight Sparkling for moon's spiced silver bite Upon skin of darkness, loving night more Storm begins unlocking cold wind's door” ~ Munia Khan Day 5: Fleur De Lis/Big Macintosh (romance/slice-of-life/uplifting/drama)Title: A Challenge Worth Taking: Part 2 Pairing: Fleur De Lis/Big Macintosh “Honest, Fleur, it’s fine.” Big Mac decided not to push her hooves away but it was difficult not to flinch as she fiddled with his bowtie for the umpteenth time. “Apologies, mon bien-aimé, but it was lop-sided and it bothered me.” It would not do to roll one’s eyes at one’s marefriend when one’s marefriend was already a bundle of nerves. Instead, he raised a hoof and placed it over hers. Her delicate white oval vanished underneath his and he was struck once again by how much this relationship should not work. Usually he banished that thought with a swift buck to a tree. No trees here though. The only wooden things were the tables and doorframe. He doubted the posh Maid of Dee pony at the entrance would appreciate him smashing the furniture just to work off his agitation. “It’ll be fine,” he said instead. Fleur was wound tighter than a coiled spring. He could feel her leg quivering. “I do hope so.” “His opinion really means a lot to you, don’t it?” She turned her face away. Big Mac heaved a sigh. “I promise I’ll try not to embarrass you.” She turned back, jaw dropped. “You will do no such thing! You will be yourself, and if he does not approve … well then, he can go … go boil his head in a pudding pot!” For emphasis, she brought her other hoof down on the table, rattling the glasses and cutlery. “Who can?” Fleur’s pale coat seemed to lose what little colour it had. She whirled in her seat, not removing her hoof from under Big Mac’s and so turning to face the speaker in what amounted to a spectacular display of her own flexibility. “Fancy!” Fancy Pants gave a roguish smile that instantly made Big Mac want to buck a tree. Several trees. Really tough, big ones that could withstand much force. “My dear, you look ravishing as always,” Fancy said easily, air-kissing Fleur. “As do you, mon ami. As ever, you have broken the hearts of so many merely walking through the doors without stopping at their tables.” “Oh gag me with a spoon,” said a nasally voice that came from slightly beyond Fancy Pants. Fleur seemed to hesitate. “Svengallop … so nice of you to join us mon … ami.” That last word did not come easily, Big Mac could tell. The lanky stallion in a cravat and glittering waistcoat practically stalked up to their table and glowered at Fleur with undisguised dislike. “Charmed. Truly,” he deadpanned. “And this must be your new beau?” “Oh. Yes. Fancy, Svengallop, this is Big Macintosh Apple.” “Howdy.” Svengallop narrow his eyes. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” “Now, Sven, you’re being unconscionably rude,” Fancy Pants interjected. “No, really, I’m sure I’ve seen him somewhere recentl-” Svengallop cut himself off mid-word and gasped, “Apple! Ponyville!” “Eyup.” “You’re that obnoxious home-breaker of a mare’s brother!” He lowered his head like he was a billy goat about to head-butt Big Mac. “Applejack! That was her name. Applejack Apple!” Just one good, tough tree. That was all he asked for. Was that too much? “Eyup.” “That interfering nag ruined my –” “Sven!” Fancy Pants’s voice cut across the other stallion’s like a knife. “That’s enough!” He frowned. “We came here tonight to have a nice dinner with Fleur and her boyfriend, not to make a scene.” “But-” Svengallop started but again stopped himself. He made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a sneeze and dumped his body unceremoniously into the chair Fancy Pants pulled out for him. Fleur was twitching. Big Mac rubbed her back briefly, a solid presence by her side. She turned to face him and he saw the unhappiness in her eyes. Apparently she wanted to see Svengallop as much as he did. The memory of Applejack’s tirade about Coloratura’s former manager was still fresh in his mind. Nopony who ticked off his sister could be good. Yet big Mac was a stallion of his word. He had promised Fleur that he would have dinner so her best friend could check him over and he would dang well do just that, annoying primidone tagalong or not. “Sven, you’re being very rude.” Svengallop folded his forelegs against Fancy Pants’s reproof. “I have a right to be.” “This is neither the time nor the place.” He sniffed. Fancy Pants slid into the chair next to him. “So sorry, my dear. He hasn’t been quite himself since he ah, trip to Ponyville.” “His sister made my best client kick me to the kerb,” Svengallop sniped. “She did?” Fleur asked Big Mac. “More like she helped a pony remember who she was under all her make-up an’ mane extensions an’ somepony I won’t mention made one mistake too many in takin’ her loyalty for granted,” Big Mac replied. Sven sniffed so loudly it was a wonder the tablecloth didn’t shoot up his nose. Fleur seemed to consider Big Mac’s words. A slow smile spread across her face. “It is never a good thing to take anypony for granted.” “Nnnope.” “I always liked the Countess. Perhaps I will invite her over sometime.” Her smile turned wolfish. “We could do each other’s manes. Paint our hooves. Talk about boys.” Sven fizzed in his seat like a shaken up bottle of cider. “She goes by Rara now, from what I can recall,” Big Mac supplied. “Rara?” Fleur said the word several times, as if turning it over with her tongue. She clapped her hooves together. “I like it! It is fun to say!” Big Mac smiled. Fleur’s delight was like standing next to a warm fire. It still amazed him that this refined, fun-loving, high-society mare could possibly show any interest in a careworn country pony like him. Yet it was him she had crossed the Grand galloping Gala to ask to dance, not any of the other equally refined stallions there. “Excusez-moi, but may I have this dance?” “Say what?” “Je m'excuse, I did think I was clear. Ah, the music, yes? It is for dancing? I would like for you to accompany me onto the dancefloor.” “You’re … talkin’ to me?” “Why of course! You are all alone in this corner. I would be speaking to who else? The ficus tree?” “I … what?” “Ce n'est pas bien. Maybe my Equestrian is not as good as I did think-” “Nnnope, nope, nope! Sorry, it’s my fault, I just … you’re really talkin’ to me?” “Perhaps I am misunderstanding something here, yes?” “I’m just surprised, is all.” “Pourquoi? Uh, I mean, why?” “Well … ‘cause you’re a lady. A mighty fine one at that. You probably come to this shindig every year an’ got a pedigree a mile long. I’m a plus-one.” “A plus-one?” “I’m my sister’s guest. She got invited and I’m her tagalong.” “Tagalong. This is a funny word. But does it matter how you gained entrance to the Gala? You are here now, oui? Does you being a, ah, plus-one means that you are unallowed … no, that is not the word. I apologise. Uh … disallowed? Prohibited! Oui, does it mean you are prohibited from dancing?” “Um, nnnope. I guess. But ain’t you better off askin’ one of these here other fine stallions instead of me? Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am, but where I come from this ain’t the kinda dancin’ we go in for. When it comes to ballroom … I ain’t much of a dancer.” “Then this is marvellous! I am not a good dancer either. I have tried to learn many times, but je suis un mauvais danseur! I remain terrible.” “I reckon you couldn’t be as bad as me.” “Shall we see?” “Uh … sure. I guess.” “Magnifique! Then may I have this dance, Monsieur Tagalong?” “Sure … what’s Prench for ‘Miss’?” “Mademoiselle.” “Oh. Okay. Then sure, mamzell … uh…” “Fleur de Lis.” “That there’s a right pretty name, mamzell.” “Why thank you!” He could still hear the orchestra if he tried. He could especially hear the square dance they started to play after a brief conversation at the punch bowl and the sound of Fleur’s laughter as he tried to teach her how to do-si-do and she kept tangling up in her own long, elegant legs. “This is amazing! I have not have so much fun at the Gala in such a long time! Last year I only was covered in green slime and the year before a lot of animals got in from outside and a bird pooped on my head. Heh, such a funny word: pooped. But this! This ‘square dancing’ is so much more fun than being pooped or slimed on! And did you see Princess Celestia? She was dancing too! Il était une merveilleuse soirée!” And so here he was months later, meeting whom she had described as ‘the only pony whose opinion really matters’ – at least to her. Fancy Pants smiled genially across the table. “I don’t know about you ponies, but I could use a drink right now.” He picked up his menu. “How’s the wine list?” “Uhh…” Big Mac struggled with a fitting response. “Unremarkable.” Fleur intercepted the question. “Though I do know that they serve an excellent vintage of …” She caught his eye and gave one of her more brilliant smiles. “Apple cider.” “You don’t say?” Fancy Pants was looking at the menu and seemed to miss their silent exchange. “Well then, if you recommend it my dear, I shall have to try some. Waiter?” Svengallop sank lower in his seat as the waiter trotted over. “Of course, because what I really want this evening is something made from apples.” “You’d prefer something else, love?” “Gin and tonic.” “Three apple ciders and a G&T my good sir,” Fancy Pants said without missing a beat. “Charge it to my tab please.” “Yes sir, Mr Pants.” The waiter nodded and backed away a few steps. “A big G&T,” Svengallop added. “And don’t skimp on the G!” “Uh … yes sir.” “You cannot have a good time without alcohol singing in your veins, Sven?” Fleur leaned forward, balancing her chin on one upturned hoof. “C'est triste. So sad.” “You can’t have a good time unless you’re rolling around in the mud with the pigs, Fleur?” he shot back. Her chin slid off her hoof abruptly. Big Mac stood up. “Nnnnnope. Now that’s enough. I ain’t about to let you insult her or me or my family one whit more just ‘cause you’re in some kinda snit over sumthin’ that ain’t got no place at this here table.” Svengallop did not say anything or move for a moment. Finally he uncrossed his forelegs and placed both front hooves flat on the table. “Oink. Oink.” That was it. If a tree didn’t spontaneously appear for him to buck, right this second, he would going to get arrested for – “Vous êtes un poney horrible!” Fleur shrilled. “Pourquoi ne pourriez -vous pas être civil pour une seule soirée?” Other diners looked up at the shrieked Prench, ears flicking forward in interest. It wasn’t often a spat broke out at such a distinguished establishment. Fleur glared at Svengallop so hotly, his mane should have spontaneously combusted. “One single evening! That was all! You had to hold your vicious tongue for one evening, but you could not even do that! It always has to be about you, Svengallop, does it not? But this is not about you! This is about me and the stallion I love!” She grabbed Big Mac’s hoof and jumped off her chair. “And quite frankly, we are too good for this … this …” She clearly struggled to find the right word and frustration erupted from her in a string of what were clearly invectives Big Mac could not understand. “Suivez-moi, Macintosh! We are leaving before I do something I may or may not regret but would most certainly get into trouble for.” “Now steady on there.” Fancy Pants got to his hooves. “Fleur, be reasonable.” At the audible snigger beside him, he whirled on his own partner. “Sven! Your behaviour tonight is atrocious! Quite frankly I’m ashamed of you.” For the first time, Svengallop actually flinched. He looked up at Fancy Pants with something akin to dismay. “Fancy, I –” Fleur pointed her perfectly formed nose in the air. “Your efforts are appreciated, Fancy, but we are still leaving.” She tugged on Big Mac. And then again when he didn’t move. She looked over her shoulder at him, surprised. “Macintosh?” He shook his head. “If you leave now, darlin’, it’ll cause a mess of trouble.” She frowned. “He is being so awful –” “I know that.” “You said yourself –” “I know that too. But I ain’t about to leave over it. You said it yourself: this evenin’ ain’t about him, it’s about you an’ me. He can try all he likes to spoil it, but what’ll he get? One evenin’ of makin’ everypony around him uncomfortable an’ embarassin’ the pony he loves. You an’ me? We’ll be fine. He ain’t got no power over neither of us unless we let him. I’ll admit, I lost my temper just now, an’ that ain’t an easy thing to make me do. But if we leave – if you leave – that’s storin’ up trouble for the future.” He leaned in and planted a bold kiss on her mouth. “Please stay. For me?” Her eyes searched his face. Then she nodded, only a little shakily. They both returned to their seats. Fancy Pants regarded Big Mac across the table. Very slowly, he gave the bigger stallion a nod. There was a lot in that nod. Big Mac wasn’t the fastest of thinkers, but even he could tell he had just passed some sort of test. The waiter reappeared with a tray of drinks. “Is everything all right over here?” “Marvellous,” Fancy Pants replied. “Well, maybe not marvellous, but at least partway there.” His horn glowed, distributing the glasses to the three other ponies. “A toast, I think.” “Oui,” Fleur agreed. “To … love?” “That sounds like an excellent thing to toast. Don’t you think so, Sven?” He raised his glass. Slowly, Svengallop did likewise. “To love,” he deadpanned. “To love!” Fleur smiled, her hoof finding Big Mac’s under the table. Big Mac grinned. “To love.” And then he toasted so forcefully, his glass shattered in his hoof. Day 6: Spitfire/Flash Sentry (romance/sadfic)Title: Goodbyes Are Not Forever - Except When They Are Pairing: Flash Sentry/Spitfire “You’re sure this is what you want?” “Yes, I’m sure.” She would not cry. She refused to cry. She was a Wonderbolt, damn it. Wonderbolts did not cry over some stupid stallion with rocks in his head. She would be stoic. She would be resigned. She would be– “Please don’t go.” Damn it all! Flash stopped in the doorway, suitcase dangling from his mouth. He set it down in the corridor outside her room and looked back at her. “This isn’t goodbye forever. I’ll have leave. I’ll be back before you know it. We can spend Hearth’s Warning together, just like we planned. You can come visit my family in Cloudsdale –” “But you won’t be here all the time.” She cursed herself inwardly but that didn’t stop her runaway mouth. “It won’t be the same. I … I’m going to miss you so much.” He sighed and came back into her room. “Spitfire, you know why I can’t stay. This isn’t the life I want. I thought it was, but …” She nodded, a hard lump in her throat. She had probably known before he did. Where she and the other trainees had relished their aerial display training, he had rarely smiled during routines. He was good – very good – but there was no heart in what he did. As much as she hated to admit it, this was not the career for him. “Royal Guards don’t get a lot of leave,” she murmured. He pulled her towards him, placing his forehead against hers. She could feel his voice thrumming through her skull when he spoke. “Neither do Wonderbolts.” “I’m just a reserve.” “Not for long. You’re better than good, Spitfire. We both know you’re destined for great things. Who knows?” He smiled. “Maybe someday I’ll be able to tell my guard buddies that my girlfriend is captain of the Wonderbolts.” She shoved lightly at his chest. “Idiot.” Her smiled faded. “I’ll write to you every day.” “Likewise.” “No you won’t. You hate writing.” She pressed the flat of her hoof under his chin, bringing his mouth up for a kiss. “Once a week though. Promise?” “Promise.” He leaned in for another kiss. “I’m going to miss these most of all.” “Yo, Flash, your transport is going to leave without you if you don’t – oh!” Spitfire’s hoof fell to the floor. “He’ll be right out, Soarin’.” “I didn’t see anything!” came the distant cry from down the dorm corridor. “Certainly not you two eating face!” Flash trotted to his suitcase and looked back at her. She couldn’t go down to the foyer and see him board the transport. She couldn’t be that strong. Everypony would see her bawl like a baby. She would lose everyone’s respect. She blinked rapidly, already fighting back tears. He must have seen the sheen across her eyes in the dim light. Or maybe he just knew her well enough not to ask her to wave him off. “Goodbye.” He picked up his case and left. “Goodbye.” She half raised a hoof. Set it down. Dropped her head. “I love you,” she whispered. Day 7: Cadence/Tirek (grimdark)Title: Deathless Love Pairing: Cadence/Tirek She loved him. She had to love him. Why else would she be doing this? Ponies who loved other ponies did things like this, right? Right? Except ... he wasn’t a pony. Did that make a difference? Did ponies who loved not-ponies do things like this? No, she loved a pony! And she loved him! That meant he had to be a pony! That meant doing this was all right! It did! Could not-ponies love? Could she love? She didn’t know. Did that mean she wasn’t a pony anymore? Had she ever been a pony? She struggled to recall some fact to confirm her own existence, but all that came back from her echoing mind were fragments. The caves. Bars. Chains. Confinement. Imprisoned for so long. Welts around her neck and legs. Hair worn off from decades of pacing and rising and sitting and laying and pacing and rising and sitting and laying and … Ponies needed to eat! Yes, that was a fact! A pony could not have survived thousands of years of imprisonment without eating, as she had! That must mean she wasn’t a pony. The realisation of this single fact made her want to laugh and cry. She was never quite sure of appropriate responses to her own thoughts. The demons who surrounded her cage laughed all the time so they were no help. She had tried to laugh along with them but it tired her out and she had to stop. Sometimes she ran along the bars as they dragged their spears across it, creating a rat-a-tat-a-tat sound that made her head ache gloriously. Other times she hunched in the corner and wept, a writhing ball of blood and guts and pink and yellow and purple and oh, oh, oh, oh – Thousands of years. She had lost count long ago but he told her that was how long had passed since the beginning. She wasn’t sure if that meant she had been born into the depths or brought here from somewhere else. Sometimes she got flashes of blue skies, green fields, a ball of fire behind little puffs of white – even a shining turret! Nothing connected though. The fragments were just fragments and shattered away until they resurrected themselves later. She would lay on the floor of her cage wondering how she knew what a turret was and why the word ‘shining’ made it hard to breathe. She hated being alone. There were other cages on other mountains down here but their occupants were nothing more than smears of blue and white. Now and then she stuck her foreleg through the bars to reach for them, when she had forgotten whether they were far away or just very small. The demons usually bit it off and she revelled in the newness of watching her limb regrow. It took weeks but anything new was welcome. Very little changed in the depths. Last time that happened she thought she had stopped breathing for a while, thinking of blood and bone and a shining white coat all torn up and draped around it. Yet that was stupid. She had pink fur, not white! Today she had four legs. The demons hadn’t pulled her tail out either. It hung limply behind her and twitched when she heard distant thumping. She recognised his approach. Her chest did something. It was hard to put a name to what. She thought maybe she enjoyed it. He appeared out of the mists, a towering mass of power wreathed in red flesh and black fur. His booming footsteps made stalactites fall. Demons ran around the cave floor, trying to get out of the way. She watched as one was squashed by a falling pointy rock. The pain came in her chest again. Did she like seeing its brains smashed on the floor? He stepped on the remains like they were nothing and came to a halt between the three cage-topped mountains. His smile had so many teeth in it. Fangs. That was what they were called. Pointy teeth were fangs and roundy teeth were … not-fangs. Just like he was a not-pony. Not-ponies were able to shrink and grow at will, like he did. She reasoned that he must be a different kind of not-pony than her, since she could not shrink or grow even when she strained so much that she passed out. Her cage door creaked. She always forgot there was a door. It never seemed to be there when he wasn’t. She watched the hinges with fascination. “Princess.” He boomed less when he was small. Did that mean he could shrink his voice too? Could not-ponies shrink their voices? She kept watching the hinges until he held her chin and forced her to look at him instead. He released her abruptly, shaking off drool. “Heh. You always were the weakest.” Her? Weakest? Compared to who? The other caged creatures? Did that mean he preferred them to her? Her chest did that thing again. She struggled to her feet. “Nnnn…” Her throat revolted. She bent low, coughing up black filth. Everything was dark down here. Even her insides. Even her heart. If she even had one, that is. She couldn’t see one painted anywhere on her body and she was so hollow inside, there couldn’t possibly be one there. “Nnnnno!” “No?” He tilted his head to one side, horns gleaming in the meagre light. He had two horns. She only had one. She had wings though. He did not. She supposed that was why he tore them off sometimes; because he wanted some for himself and it wasn’t like she was using hers. They always grew back, so it may hurt and she screamed a whole bunch, but then she had something new to think about and that was good. Blood made her breath catch and her chest clench and sometimes something thrummed in the back of her mind like a prisoner crying to get out and show her the blue skies and sunshine and purple wings and no hope, no more, dead, dead, dead, oh, oh, oh – “No what?” he asked now, snapping her back to reality. “Nnnnnn…” “You’re not the weakest? Oh, but you are. Your mind crumbled so easily compared to the royal sisters. They still fight me. It is amusing.” Royal … sisters? She blinked, unable to comprehend what he meant. She shook her head and tried not to topple over from dizziness. She was always so thirsty … “Nnnnno! Not alllllllllowed ...” She huffed, focussed on getting the words out. “Not allowed what?” He seemed amused. That was good. Amusement meant he liked her. “To … choose … them!” she finished finally. “Mmmme! Have to … choose … me!” She sucked in a lungful of foul air. “And why should I-?” “Because I love you!” she shouted before he could finish his question. His posture changed. His arms flexed. He had arms. She did not. She stared at his hands as he unclenched his fists. “Oh, Princess,” he purred. She loved him. She had to. That was why she let him turn her around like he did. That was why she let him do the things he did. She had to love him. Why else would she be doing this? Ponies who loved other ponies did things like this, right? Right? Except ... he wasn’t a pony. Did that make a difference? Did ponies who loved not-ponies do things like this? No, she loved a pony! And she loved him! That meant he had to be a pony! That meant doing this was all right! It did! Author's Note Title taken from this quote: 'What is this power the dead have over the ones they leave behind? It's strange and beautiful and frightening, this deathless love that human being continue to feel for the ones they've lost.' ~ from 'The Lost Girl' by Sangu Mandanna Day 9: Sapphire Shores/Countess Coloratura (romance/fluff)Title: Dynamite With a Laserbeam Pairing: Sapphire Shores/Countess Coloratura She loved being in the wings at these shows. The lights, the laser-beams, the moving backdrops and gyrating dancers. It was such a spectacle – and the music! Even the stagehoofs were nodding along, and they had heard these songs a million times during rehearsals. On stage, the lead pony threw her head back, rearing up slowly with expert muscle control as she let out a note so long and loud it was a wonder she didn’t pass out. She strutted. She whirled. She spun about the stage with easy grace, weaving in and out of the other performers but never missing a hoofstep or note. It was the product of hundreds of hours of practise but it looked effortless. The crowd loved it. They bayed her name. Ponies at the front struggled to get her attention, screaming in joy when she winked at them on her way past. She dipped down, slapping open hooves, then jumped back up to snap her head to and fro in time with the beat. The final chorus came. The song ended with an eruption of smoke from machines at the back of the stage. The crowd went wild. Pieces of glitter spiraled down from gigantic buckets positioned around the ceiling of the arena. “Mares and gentlecolts of Baltimare, you’ve been a wonderful audience!” she said into her head-mic. “Thank you so much and goodnight!” A reprise of her own song played her off. She shimmied out of sight, then bounded back into view for another bow. She did this several times, threatening to leave her audience and them giving them more. She introduced her team, encouraging whoops and applause for them too. When everypony had been thanked, she made the audience applaud themselves for being such great fans. Finally, she took her leave and the house lights came up. She was sucking down a water bottle from a stage-side table when soft hooves approached her from behind. “That was amazing, sweetie.” She coughed up half the bottle and turned with that same effortless grace. “Coloratura! Baby!” “Hi Sapphire.” “I didn’t think your tour ended for another month!” Sapphire Shores lit up more than her own show’s lighting rig. “Girl, did you change your mane? I like it!” “Well … I kind of have more time on my hooves now than I did when we last spoke on the phone. And, um …” The plain blue pony in a plain blue dress smiled up at her. “Could you … could you call me Rara from now on?” “Uh … sure, if you want me to. But I still get to call you Baby too, right?” She laughed. “Right.” The laughter ceased. “I … I fired Svengallop.” “Why? Did something happen?” Sapphire was instantly all concern. “Do I need to go bust somepony’s head? I never liked the way he looked at you. I’ll cave in his dang face if he so much as –” “No, no, it was nothing like that, I just … I needed a change. And he was the first thing I changed.” Sapphire’s scowl morphed back into her brilliant, traffic-stopping smile. “Baby, we gotta talk. And kiss. I ain’t kissed you without nopony lookin’ for far too long. But also talk.” She nodded to herself, making the peacock feathers on her headdress wave. “We can multi-task. You can tell me what happened while I kiss the dang face offa you.” Rara giggled. “Oh gosh, I missed you while I was on tour.” Sapphire dragged her off to her dressing room. “Come show me how much. I scored a room with a lock at this gig.” “Don’t you need to get changed out of your stage outfit?” “What do you think I’m planning to do?” “Oh. Oh! Oh, I have missed you!” Author's Note Title taken from: She's a Killer Queen Gunpowder, gelatine Dynamite with a laserbeam Guaranteed to blow your mind Anytime Ooh, recommended at the price Insatiable an appetite Wanna try ? Lyrics from Killer by Queen Day 10: Limestone Pie/Starlight Glimmer (romance/comedy/slice-of-life)Title: Hitting the Jackpot Pairing: Limestone Pie/Starlight Glimmer Limestone leaned sideways and hissed from the corner of her mouth, “Exactly how long are they planning on staying again?” Marble gave one of her useless shrugs and continued trying to hide behind her mane. Limestone rolled her eyes. On the other side of the quarry, Pinkie leaped onto a giant stone and hopped about in a series of poses that nearly had her toppling right back off again. Below her, Maud gazed up implacably while the pale pink unicorn stared with something like alarm. “I don’t see why Pinkie couldn’t come home alone for once. I mean, she’s always dragging along her dumb friends nowadays.” Limestone’s shoulders hunched. “It’s like we’re not good enough for her anymore or something.” Marble shook her head. “Well that’s the way it feels. First it was those friends of hers, then the whole freaking Apple family, and now some dumb unicorn she didn’t even warn us she was bringing! I mean, we’re totally off schedule now!” Marble shrank away from her raised voice. “Sorry, Marble. It just busts my boulders, y’know?” “Mmmhmm,” Marble agreed, sounding like she was doing so just so her sister wouldn’t lash out. Limestone loosed a rough sigh. “I’d better go get Maudie back. If we hurry, we can still make today’s quota. We’re about due to hit a seam in the north quadrant and I’ll be damned if my careful planning goes into the shale pile just because Pinkie’s pals can’t stay away from our farm.” She stalked across the quarry like she owned the place – which was partially true, but not as much as her gait implied. Pinkie noticed her first, hopping up and down and waving madly. “Limey! Limey! Limey! Hi! Hi! Hi!” She gestured downward. “This is my new friend, Starlight Glimmer! She’s learning about friendship and how not to take out your personal demons on the world because misery really doesn’t actually love company after all! I brought her here to –” “Whatever.” Limestone took up her favourite stance: slightly forward, head tilted back exposing her chin, the better to glare down at ponies taller than her and let them know she was boss. “Maudie, we’re off schedule. Can you get back to the north quadrant? Double time. Sunset in less than an hour and seam imminent if we dig t the co-ordinates and depth I showed you on the map.” “What kind of seam?” Maud inquired. “Amethyst if my calculations are right.” Maud nodded and walked away without bothering to bid anypony goodbye. “Well … that was rude.” The unicorn whose name Limestone did not know wrinkled her nose. “Some of us have work to do,” Limestone snapped. “We can’t all be lazy mares who go off visiting places and ponies regardless of whether they’re wanted or not.” The unicorn looked shocked. Then angry. She opened her mouth to respond but Pinkie jumped down between them. “Limey! That’s not very nice!” “I’m not very nice,” Limestone replied without missing a beat. Nothing made her crankier than somepony busting in on her workplace and knocking her off schedule. “That’s pretty obvious,” the unicorn murmured. Limestone snorted and scuffed the ground with a forehoof. “You got something to say to me, hornhead?” “Limey!” Shock laced Pinkie’s tone. “That’s racist! What would Granny Pie say if she could hear you say that?” Finally Limestone backed up, if only mentally. Images of her grandmother’s disapproving expression flickered through her mind. Granny Pie had been dead for years but she and her steadfast values were still the biggest influence on her granddaughters’ lives. Limestone’s eyes dipped. “Uh … ah ponyfeathers. Sorry Pinkie.” “It’s not me you need to apologise to, Limey, it’s Starlight.” “Ugh.” Limestone drew in a breath, Granny Pie’s voice thrumming through her. “I’m sorry I lost my temper and called you a hornhead. I just hate being off schedule when we’re so close to hitting a seam. We need a boost of bits to repair the roof of the farmhouse and this kind of break would really help with that.” Pinkie gave Starlight Glimmer a look over her shoulder. Starlight clearly struggled, but bit out: “What does that mean – a seam?” “A seam is a … a seam.” Limestone searched for a way to describe it to somepony not born into a family of rock farmers or the creatures they traded with. “Of gems. In the ground.” “A seam like in a dress?” Starlight Glimmer blinked at her, clearly not understanding. “Ugh.” Limestone pressed her hoof at the tight spot between her eyes. “Follow me. It’s easier – and quicker – if I just show you.” “Oooooh, Starlight! You get to see an actual seam of gems! You’re so lucky! Not even Twilight has seen one of those here. Neither has Rarity.” She paused. “Though she may actually be able to help us locate them, come to think of it. Hmm … I wonder why I never thought of that before.” Limestone shook her head. Pinkie had turned so much weirder since she moved to Ponyville. They heard Maud before they saw her. Or rather, before they saw the cloud of dust she was churning up. Maud herself was concealed within it, hammering away with her forehooves like jackhammers. Other rock farms only wished they had a pony like Maud working on them. Abruptly the noise stopped and a pair of purple hooves appeared over the side of the crater. “I hit it,” Maud deadpanned, hauling herself up. “Already?” Even Limestone was impressed. She had calculated another forty-five minutes at least, even with Maud’s help. “I’ll go tell Father.” Maud ambled away like hitting the source of their income for the next few months was nothing special. Limestone motioned at the hole in the ground. “A gem seam. We pry them out and sell them for profit.” “C’mon, Starlight! Wheee!” Pinkie leapt into the cloud of dust like there couldn’t possibly be any jagged rocks concealed within to impale her. Starlight Glimmer was more circumspect. “Ah … is it safe?” “It is if you wait to see what you’re doing,” Limestone replied. “But Pinkie Pie –” “Pinkie is Pinkie.” She shrugged. Starlight Glimmer swallowed. “Uh, right.” “So what are you even doing here? She hadn’t ever talked about before.” “I’m … new to her … friendship group.” “New. Right.” Limestone rolled her eyes. “Just a ‘friend’. I get it.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Look, it’s fine. Our dad’s real conservative but I don’t care if Pinkie’s dating a stallion, a mare or a timberwolf, as long as she’s happy.” Shock wreathed the unicorn’s face. “I’m not-! We’re not-! I don’t like mares!” “Suuure you don’t. Seriously, I couldn’t give a monkey’s buttcheek who warms her bed, but if you want to play it that way, your secret’s safe with me. Just don’t hold up my work schedule again, okay? Oh, and if you hurt my sister, I’ll break your nose with a hammer.” “I’m not dating your sister!” Starlight protested. “Of course she’s not!” Pinkie’s voice floated from the dust cloud. “She’s totally in love with Twilight!” “I am not!” Starlight actually stamped a hoof this time. “Oh?” Pinkie paused. “Fluttershy, then.” “No!” “Oh.” Another pause. “I could’ve sworn you had a thing for her. You invited her into your house at night and everything. Then who are you in love with?” “Nopony!” “Really?” “Yes!” “For absolute realises?” “Yes!” “Aw, that’s so sad.” “It is not!” Two stamps this time. “I was too busy trying to change the world for the better to worry about silly, petty things like … like romance!” “So, so sad.” Pinkie sniffed loudly. “I am not! I-I mean, it is not!” Starlight tossed her head and scowled into the cloud. “You’re being very aggravating, Pinkie Pie! Twilight specifically told you not to do that before we left Ponyville! You’re supposed to teach me about laughter and finding fun in difficult situations, not pair me up with half your social circle!” “She does this,” Limestone sighed. “When the Apple family came to stay for Christmas, she tried to pair up our other sister with the big red stallion.” “They looked cute together!” “Quiet, Pinkie.” “You’re just jealous because I didn’t match-make you with Applejack.” “Pinkie, I may be into mares, but even I have my limits!” “She could say the same about you.” “Celestia damn it, Pinkie, your friend is right: this is aggravating!” Pinkie let out a manic giggle. The distinctive sound of her bouncing faded away, as if she had left the quarry under the cover of rock dust. For a moment Limestone and Starlight stood in silence, waiting for her to come back. “Celestia’s hairy butthole, I hate it when she does stuff like this,” Limestone growled. “She’s just so … so random!” “I’ll say. Also, that is a disgusting turn of phrase.” “Oh bite me.” Limestone released a pent up breath and picked up a pickaxe somepony had left nearby. Probably one of the temp workers. They were a bunch of workshy layabouts. “C’mon. I’ll show you what an amethyst seam looks like until she gets back.” “Oh. Am I … supposed to bring one of these tools as well?” “Unless you’d like to use just your horn and hooves, yeah.” Gingerly, Starlight lifted another pickaxe in her aura. “Follow me.” “I thought you said it was dangerous.” “I know what I’m doing. Just follow me and you’ll be safe.” Carefully, Limestone picked her way down into the crater. She was sure-footed as a mountain goat. Too bad for her even mountain goats have trouble when other goats leave tools laying around will-nilly. “Whoa!” she cried out as her hooves shot out from under her, helped along by a carelessly discarded hammer and chisel. “What’s the matt – oh!” Starlight’s question devolved into a shriek as the kicked chisel hit her in the knee and she pitched forward. Limestone’s face hit the ground with a smack. She had the good sense to drop the pickaxe before she broke her teeth on it. A breath escaped her as Starlight crashed into her from behind. “What’s all the shouting about?” Pinkie bounced into view, apparently all concern – at least until she saw them. Immediately, her hoof raised to her mouth and she let out a stream of laughter so thick, it clogged her throat and she coughed. Starlight struggled to untangle herself from where she had fallen against Limestone’s upturned rump. Limestone tried not to buck her for the unfortunate way she had landed. Starlight’s face re-emerged with an mortified gasp. The position was compromising, entirely accidental and deeply embarrassing. Likewise the fact that when Starlight tried to stand, her legs became tangled in Limestone’s and they fell again, rolling over in the dirt until they fetched up against a larger rock sticking up from the ground. Limestone stared up into Starlight’s face. It was entirely too close to her own. She could smell the other mare’s toothpaste, feel the warmth of her breath against her own snout and see the flecks of gold in her blue irises. Up close, the hard lines of her scowl smoothed into broad surprise, she was actually quite pretty. Her mane fell down around her face, giving her a rumpled look that was … actually pretty cute; especially with the late afternoon sun behind her, giving her a weird golden halo. “I g-guess I should have match-made you two after all!” Pinkie hooted. Starlight’s throat bobbed. “Ah –” “Get. Off. Me.” “Yes. Exactly what, uh, I was thinking.” Starlight prised herself loose and scrambled to her hooves. Limestone followed, moving carefully and absolutely not looking at the other mare and definitely not thinking about how close together their mouths had just been and most definitely not how long it had been since she last went on anything resembling a date. “Pinkie?” “Y-yeah, Limey?” “If you don’t stop laughing, I’m going to feed you this pickaxe. Sideways.” Pinkie snorted into her hooves. “Whatever you say, Limey.” Day 11: Princess Luna/Nightmare Moon (darkfic)Title: Only the Tender Shadows Pairing: Princess Luna/Nightmare Moon The shadows were watching her. Sometimes she turned her head to catch them, but they were tricky. They were able to look completely normal until her back was turned, then they arched and curled into terrible shapes that whipped away the moment she tried to look at them. It was enough to render her a trembling wreck beneath her bedclothes. “Lu-Lu,” they crooned. “Luuu-Luuu…” “You are not real.” Luna clamped her hooves over her ears. “You are not real!” “Not real? Well now, is that any way to talk about somepony?” “You are not a somepony. You are a something!” “I thought I was not real.” Voluptuous laugher filled the air so loudly, Luna was amazed the guards didn’t come running. “We are all somethings, darling. Some of us are merely more aware of it than others.” “We do refuse to listen to thee!” Luna buried her head under her pillow. “You know that will not work.” The words ribboned into her ears even though she held the goosedown so tight she could barely breathe. Still, she heard the voice as clear as a knell. “Thou art my little Lu-Lu, and I do care about thee so very much, daaaaaarling –” “Cease this!” Luna leapt from the bed, cantered across the floor, wrenched open the door of her chambers and galloped down the hallway to her sister’s room. “Cease thy prattling, foul thing!” “Thou may run from me, darling, but thou may not hide. Thou art my little Lu-Lu…” She slewed to a stop in front of Celestia’s chambers. “Sister! We beseech thee, let us in!” Snowy white guards cantered down the hallway after her. Day guards. Of course. It was daylight. Celestia wouldn’t be in her rooms. Luna took off at a run, opening her wings and soaring faster still. She reached the throne room ahead of the unicorn guards and reared to smash open the doors with her front hooves. “Sister!” Only then did she realise what she was doing. Dozens of surprised and confused eyes turned on her. The court was full today. Guards had herded civilians into a long line and were keeping order as they waited for their audiences with the Day Princess. At the other end of the room, Celestia sat, regal as a cat on a velvet cushion. Her head jerked up at the commotion. “Oh-no,” Luna muttered, shrinking back in a very un-princesslike manner. Her hooves, unclad in their usual silver shoes, clip-clopped far too loudly to her ears. “Oh yesssss.” She spun around, looking for the owner of the voice. The guards that had followed her were rounding the corner. They were both male. Neither could have said that. There were shadows on the ceiling. She cowered away from them like a beaten dog. The crowd inside the throne room murmured. Seeing the Night Princess during the day was strange enough. Seeing her invade the Day Court, wild-eyed and shouting, was another thing altogether. Luna looked behind her, stomach clenching at the frightened expressions beginning to spread from pony to pony. Beyond them, Celestia stood, her pink mane flowing and her eyes narrowed in … concern? Anger? It was too difficult to tell. Celestia was too good at looking beatific and wise to shed the expression completely when shifting into others. She was a consummate ruler: never crumbling in front of her subjects or hearing voices that couldn’t possibly be there. “Harmony take it!” Luna cursed under her breath. She opened her wings and fled. Celestia cleared her throat delicately. “Do we not deserve an explanation for today’s outburst?” Luna stared into her soup. Her bread sat untouched beside the gleaming silver bowl. When she did not answer, Celestia cleared her throat again, as if Luna must not have heard her all of three feet away. “Luna?” “She speaketh to thee, Luuuuu-Luuuu.” “Didst thou hear that?” Celestia blinked at her. “Hear what?” “We …” Luna started but stopped again immediately. Celestia was looking at her that way again. “Hmmf, you do not need her pity, nor her chastisements. She is thy sister, not thy mother. What higher authority set her above thee? Thou art her equal in all things, yes? Yet she doth treat thee like a small foal in need of coddling and discipline.” Luna did not realise she was gritting her teeth until they squeaked. “Luna? Thou didst thoroughly embarrass us this day,” Celestia said, her tone gentle but reproving. “We would appreciate an explanation. Art thou unwell? Should we send for a physician?” “Thou doth show a little backbone and thou art labelled a sickling? Such condescension!” Luna willed the shadows to shut up. The confession that she could hear a voice in her head rose in her throat, eager to expel itself into the air between herself and her sister. Celestia was older than her. She would know what to do. She would know what this was. Celestia always knew what was best. That was why Luna deferred to her so much. “Is it, Lu-Lu? Is it really?” She blinked in surprise at the silent question. Of course that was why. “How dost thou think Celestia would react if thou asked for something extravagant that does not fit in with her views of the world and how it should be run?” What? “Ask her for something extravagant. See what she will say.” That was stupid. She didn’t need to make Celestia prove anything. She needed these stupid shadows to go away! “Do this thing and if I am wrong, I will leave thee.” Luna’s eyes widened. Was this truth? “Absolute truth. For you see, Celestia will fail. She does not respect thee as much as thou doth believe. I know this, but thy denial remains.” She cleared her throat. “Sister ... dost thou love us?” Celestia’s neck arched in obvious surprise. “Such a question! What causes it?” “Please … answer us.” “Love thee? Why, with all my heart, my dear sister.” “Therefore … if I did ask a boon of thee … wouldst thou grant it?” “Indeed. What wouldst thou ask of us?” Luna bit her lower lip and asked for the most outlandish thing she could think of. “We desire our night to be extended by … b-by one hour.” Celestia’s ears flicked back. It lasted only a moment but Luna noticed it. “Luna…” “We ask so very little, sister,” Luna interrupted. “We have never asked anything of thee in over a hundred years. We have followed our duties to the letter. We ask now that thou grant us this boon.” “Luna, it is too much.” Regret threaded Celestia’s words, but Luna did not hear the tone, just the words themselves. “A promise given so lightly and as easily taken away,” whispered the shadows. “Truly, thou doth mean the world to her heart, Lu-Lu, just as she says. Or is that a lie also?” Something like rage flared in Luna’s chest. She had not felt anything like it since the battle over a century before, when she had led troops into battle against the griffin hordes while her sister recuperated from her wounds. The shadows caressed it, twirling around the feeling like bellows pushing a licking flame to greater heights in a half-doused fireplace. The soup bowl jumped when her hoof struck the table. “It is not too much!” she shouted. “We would accede to such a wish if it was ours to grant!” “Luna –” “Mayhap we should raise the moon before thy precious sun is lowered!” “Luna, thou art aware of why such a request is foolishness. Tides, crops, the natural order: all are ours to maintain. We must remain in balance and follow the rise and fall of the seasons. That was the responsibility we did undertake when we accepted our roles as rulers Day and Night.” “We see only one ruler here,” Luna hissed, lip half-curved into a snarl. “And it is not us.” “Luna!” Celestia was aghast. Luna saw the hurt and outrage on her sister’s face. She watched Celestia rise from her chair. Her chair at the head of the long table. While Luna’s was merely a chair at the side, much smaller than her sister’s. Less ornate too. Plain. Unadorned. “Finally, you begin to see the world through new eyes,” purred the shadows. “True eyes. Eyes that see the reality of things. The shining fire of the Sun Princess is beloved of your citizens so much more than your own beautiful moonlight. They do frolic and play in her warmth but hide and shiver from away your magnificent stars.” Luna shoved back her plain, ugly chair so hard that it tipped over. The resultant crash echoed around the dining room. “Luna, thou art translated!” Celestia cried. “What ails thee?” “Truth, dear sister!” Luna spat back. “Nothing but ugly truth.” Celestia’s chair squeaked away from the table, but in a puff of glittering light, Luna was gone. “Luna?” Luna refused to listen to the voice or hooves banging on her door. “Come out. Come out now, Luna!” “Do not worry, little Lu-Lu. I will look after thee.” “We do not need to be looked after,” Luna sniffled. “We are strong. We are proud. We are the Princess of the Night!” A tear plopped of her nose. “Harmony damn it!” “I will remain by thy side regardless.” Something soft smoothed back her untidy mane. It felt nice; far nicer than Luna could admit. There was a niggling doubt in the back of her mind that she should be questioning this more. She should want to know more about this voice that soothed her now. Yet she could not summon the desire to do more than roll slightly backwards to look up at the curling, vaporous shadows. “What … art thou?” she asked vaguely. The stroking felt very relaxing. Her eyes began to drift a little. Despite the noise at her door, she felt tired enough to sleep. “Thy protector.” A set of gleaming turquoise eyes coalesced out of the gloom. “One who doth love thee far more than thy insincere sister.” “Luna, open this door!” Luna yawned. “Thou doth … love … us?” “With all my heart and soul.” The eyes swam closer, shadows beneath them firming into something like a mouth. “After all, I was born from thine.” “Hm?” Luna prised her lids open. “Hush. Sleep now. I will keep the sunlit wolf from thy door.” The mouth pressed a kiss to Luna’s forehead. “Soon there shall be only one princess in Equestria.” “Luna!” “And it shall be us.” Author's Note Title taken from: 'In this world, full often, our joys are only the tender shadows which our sorrows cast.' ~ Henry Ward Beecher Day 12: Noteworthy/Fleur De Lis (romance/sadfic)Title: A Challenge Worth Taking: Part 3 Pairing: Noteworthy/Fleur De Lis He had a poster of her on his wall. That was nothing unusual. She was one of the premier fashion models in all of Equestria. He held no illusions that he was special in how he felt about her. Just a crush, he told himself. It would only ever be just a crush. She lived in Canterlot, after all, and very few ponies of her calibre ever came to a podunk town like Ponyville. Even fewer fell for a podunk nobody like him. Stallions born in Ponyville didn’t get supermodels. He had tried to get out and make something of himself. His dreams of playing saxophone in a smoky club in the capital, stringing nights away with jazz, fine wine and cigarettes had turned out to be the kind of dreams you woke up from before they were done. Lack of cash and lack of interest in what he had to offer drove him back to his hometown with his tail between his legs. He only tried Canterlot once, too burned to go back. He tried other places though. He wasn’t quite ready to give up on his dreams back then. Yet the constant rebuffs in other cities and towns turned his jaded as a green rock and eventually he pitched up back at his mom’s and moved into the attic to lick his wounds and feel sorry for himself. He used to look at the poster of her covering the cracks on the wall and talk to her. She stared back at him coquettishly, looking over her shoulder as if to say: ‘Things won’t always be as bad as they seem now.’ He would lay on his bed and stare at her, wishing he was somepony else: somepony worthy of a mare like her, instead of a podunk nobody from Ponyville. “You didn’t let growing up poor stop you.” She was from some tiny backwater town in Prance. Like him, she had grown up without two bits to rub together but had dreamed big and followed those dreams to Canterlot. Unlike him, however, she had found success there. She was his inspiration after so many knock-backs. “If I can’t play in clubs, I’ll play in other places. You started out small, right?” He had seen the photos of her as a filly, modelling foalswear in a Prench mail-order catalogue. Her freckles and braids were the antithesis of her aquiline prettiness as an adult. “Maybe it didn’t work out the way I wanted. But I shouldn’t let that stop me. I should keep trying, just like you did. Keep moving forward. Take a few risks. Yeah.” So he picked himself up, dusted himself off and forged out into the world again. He placed ads in as many newspapers as he could afford and played birthday parties, weddings and public events in Ponyville until he saved enough to buy a wagon and took himself on the road. He played his beloved saxophone, but also strummed guitar, sang and could bash out a happy tune on a piano if presented with one. He started giving lessons, renting out his skills to parents eager for their children to learn how to sing and read sheet music. He journeyed from Manehattan to Baltimare, picked up a host of new skills and trotted home the next Winter with an enthusiasm in his step that hadn’t been there since he first set out for Caneterlot so long ago. It was as he was pulling his cart through the farmlands around Ponyville that he caught sight of her. At first he thought he was hallucinating. Maybe that grass he had cropped for lunch had been covered in weedkiller or something, or maybe he was more exhausted than he had thought. He blinked rapidly, but there she still was, stepping through the apple orchard on the other side of the fence he was walking beside. He gaped. His cart came to a stop. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He opened his mouth to call out to her, to make her respond and prove she was real. And then the big red stallion he knew owned the farm came trotting up behind her, saddlebags slung over his sides and a picnic blanket bouncing on his broad shoulders. She turned and greeted the stallion with a giggle, planting a kiss on his nose. He couldn’t hear what they said to each other, but the chaste peck quickly became a deeper kiss, and the picnic blanket slid to the ground forgotten. He stared until embarrassment forced him to look away. They clearly didn’t know they were being watched. Quickly, he trundled off down the track, wishing his cart was less squeaky. Suddenly it seemed so old, so worn and dirty that he wanted to buck it to pieces. He hurried into town and fetch up at his mom’s house. She opened the door full of smiles – until he shuffled past her with no more than a grunted hello. “Oh, Noteworthy. Didn’t it work out? Your letters had me believing things were going well.” “They were,” he replied as he climbed the stairs to his tiny attic bedroom. “But I forgot something important.” “What did you forget? Was it your toothbrush? Your health insurance card?” “No.” He slammed his bedroom door shut, crossed the floor and tore down her poster. He balled it up and tossed it in the trash. He could still see her eye staring at him, crumpled but visible at the bottom of the wicker basket. He stamped on it, grinding his hind hoof down on her beautiful face. “I just forgot that I’m the podunk nobody who isn’t meant to get the girl in the end.” Day 13: Sunset Shimmer/Fluttershy (romance/fluff)Title: First Kiss Pairing: Sunset Shimmer/Fluttershy “So … in your world … everyone is …” Fluttershy gulped, her sentence tailing off into a squeak dogs would have had trouble hearing. “… gay?” Sunset held the packet of frozen peas to her face. “Bisexual, but yeah, pretty much.” “Oh … my …” Fluttershy wrapped a lock of hair around her fingers, tugging it so tight a few strands snapped. “I’m sorry.” “I think this is the part where I say that, actually.” Sunset winced. “I knew this world isn’t the same as Equestria but still, it never even occurred to me that people aren’t as free-thinking as ponies when it comes to sex.” Fluttershy cheeped and hid her face behind a cushion shaped like a fuzzy red strawberry. “What? What!?” “You said the ‘S’ word.” “What? Sex?” She cheeped again. “Celestia damn it, Fluttershy, sex is not a dirty word!” “No, but it’s an embarrassing one.” “I didn’t even proposition you for sex!” Fluttershy did her best to hide her whole body behind the cushion. “I only kissed you! And you made it pretty clear you weren’t interested in even that much.” Briefly, Sunset removed the peas and examined herself in the mirror on Fluttershy’s bedroom wall. A large splayed handprint graced her cheek. Experimentally she poked it with a fingertip. “Ow!” “I … I am sorry.” “I know you’re sorry, Fluttershy.” Sunset sighed. “You’re always sorry.” Slowly, a pair of big blue eyes reappeared from behind the cushion. “But I am. Truly. I just … you caught me unawares. I had no idea you … felt like that … about me…” “Who wouldn’t? You’re cute and funny and kind and really pretty and … and you’re wearing the cushion for a face again.” “Sorry.” “Damn it!” “Sorr-” “Stop saying sorry all the time!” Sunset shouted. The little frilly bedroom fell into an uneasy silence. Sunset swept hair off her face. She was sweaty and sore and embarrassed, even though intellectually she knew there was no reason to be, and just so very done with all this. “I guess I’d better go home now,” she muttered. “Sorry for weirding you out.” After all, it wasn’t a proper day in the human world if she couldn’t find some new way to screw up or ostracise herself from people with her non-people ways. “Wait!” Fluttershy reached out a hand as if to grab Sunset and prevent her from leaving. Sunset paused, a half inch out of the other girl’s reach. “What? Look, I’ll help you deliver the animal sanctuary flyers tomorrow. I’m not in the mood right now.” “I … I wanted … needed …” Fluttershy flushed crimson. Something inside Sunset stirred. She half turned around. “Wanted what?” At the continued hesitancy, she pressed: “Needed what, Fluttershy?” “You really like me?” Fluttershy whispered. “Like, that way?” “Well sure. Why else would I have tried to kiss you?” “Some pony ritual maybe?” “Kissing is kissing, ponies or people.” That much she knew from dating Flash. She had learned then that boys were just as grabby as colts – and just as disappointingly predictable if you didn’t make your boundaries clear right from the start. Fluttershy chewed her bottom lip. It was quite adorable. Sunset found herself watching the tiny appearances of teeth as the other girl spoke again. “It … it wasn’t horrible … kissing you …” “Is that supposed to be a compliment? Kissing me isn’t horrible?” Sunset frowned. “No, no! I mean yes! I mean … um …” Fluttershy covered her face with that damned cushion again. “ImeanimaybekindoflikeditbutIwassurprisedbecauseyou’reagirlwellsortofandI’magirlandgirlsdon’tusuallykissgirlsand…” She ran out of breath, ending her outburst with a deep gulp of air. “Could you, um, try again? When I’m ready this time, I mean. Not catching me by surprise like that. I really am sorry for slapping you, by the way.” Sunset paused before turning around fully and plopping down on the beanbag chair next to the low bed. “You’re sure you won’t smack me again?” “I promise.” “Okay then.” She licked her lips and tilted her head. “Oh! Um …” Fluttershy hesitantly tilted this way and that. She pulled away, shook her head and then thrust it forward like a brawler about to head-butt an opponent. Sunset paused. “Fluttershy … you have kissed someone before, right? “Not, um, as such.” “So when I planted one on you before,” she clarified with dawning realisation, “that was your first kiss?” “Um … yes.” Sunset pressed the flat of her hand against her face - then yelped and let go. “No wonder you slapped me.” She got up from the chair with some sliding and difficulty. Her skirt rode up and she hiked it down as soon as she attained her feet. “Did I do it wrong?” Fluttershy asked, horrified. “Don’t you want to kiss me anymore?” “Yes. Stand up.” “Huh?” “Just do it. We’re the same height. This makes it easier.” “Oh. Um…” Fluttershy did as she was bade. “Now what?” “Close your eyes, tilted your head left and part your lips.” “Like this?” “Perfect.” Gently, Sunset took Fluttershy’s face between her hands. She cupped her palms, marveling at the softness of the other girl’s skin. After one had lived with fur all their life, skin was still a fascinating skin. She brought her own face close and softly brushed their lips together. It was the gentlest approximation of a kiss she could manage, far removed from the snap decision one of less than an hour ago. Fluttershy seemed to sigh into her mouth, as if the kiss wasn’t as bad as she had been expecting. Gradually, Sunset pressed their lips together, allowing Fluttershy to get used to the feeling of someone else’s mouth on hers before she started to move her lips. Eventually they parted. Fluttershy’s eyes had taken on a dopey light. Sunset smirked. “We can count that as your first real kiss instead.” “Mmmm…” Fluttershy blinked. “I think I like kissing you.” “Oh really?” Sunset’s eyebrow bounced upward. “Uh-huh. C-could we do that again?” Sunset grinned and cupped Fluttershy’s chin with her palms. “My pleasure.” Author's Note I'm a few days late with this one. Details of why can be found here. Day 14: Golden Harvest/Braeburn (sadfic)Title: Doing the Right Thing Pairing: Golden Harvest/Braeburn Golden Harvest toed the soil and frowned. “I’ll never be able to grow anything in this.” “Sure you will!” The clip-clop of hooves here sounded so much dustier than in Ponyville. “How else do you think we grew all them apple trees?” She glanced at the thin, spidery trees edging the field she had been given as her own. Grammy Apple Tart had given her one to eat when she first got off the train as a ‘Welcome to Appleloosa’ gift. It had been iron-hard and dried out her mouth. “Goldie?” Braeburn’s voice wavered a little, his natural buoyancy not taking the word all the way to its conclusion. “Sumthin’ wrong?” Everything. “Nothing.” I should never have come here. “Just glad to be here.” She gave him her best smile. Evidently her best wasn’t good enough. He frowned at her, his eyes were soft with concern. Guilt blossomed within her like a water pipe stuck full of holes. Or maybe that was something else inside her. Her body felt so strange these days, like she was trying on somepony else’s skin and it was little too big for her. “You ain’t glad to be here,” he said quietly. “Yes I am.” She turned up the wattage on her smile. “You’re here.” That was enough. It had to be enough. “Yeah.” He raised a hoof as if to place it on her shoulder, but changed his mind at the last moment. It hung between them, dangling uselessly. “I am.” He put the hoof back down. “But you don’t need to be. Not really.” “What?” Panic ribboned through her. “This ain’t the right life for you,” he sighed. “I guess I kinda knew that. I just hoped… well, I don’t matter a whit what I hoped. You ain’t gonna be happy here. I could tell from the moment you set foot in this town that you weren’t gonna be happy. You ain’t built for life on the plains.” She hobbled towards him. “You’re talking crazy –” “No, I ain’t,” he interrupted. “Goldie … I told you right from the start that I couldn’t leave this town. My family’s here. I’m an Apple. Apples built Appleloosa. It’s my sweat, tears an’, yeah, blood in these here houses and fences. I spent my best years buildin’ this place up.” “And I told you I wouldn’t make you leave it,” she protested. “I know how important your family is to you!” “It is.” He closed his eyes. “Family’s the most important thing in the world to me.” Her eyes were starting to burn. She gulped back tears. “So you’re sending me back to Ponyville? What if I refuse to go?” She stamped her forehoof. His eyes flew open. “Don’t do that!” “I can do whatever I damn well please, Braeburn Apple! You don’t get to tell me what to do!” She lowered her head as if to butt him like one of those buffalo she had seen running the outskirts of town. “You don’t make my decisions for me. I make them for myself. And you certainly don’t get to send me away because I’m inconvenient.” “You … what? That ain’t it at all! I’m tryin’ to do what’s best for you.” “No you’re not! You’re trying to do what’s best for you!” “Goldie, please, I’m thinkin’ of you an’ -” “Donkey dung!” she yelled. Crows started up from the ugly treeline. “If you were trying to do what’s best for me you never would have slept with me in the first place!” Like a useless hoof, silence dangled between them. Golden Harvest sank to her haunches. “I …” She was shocked at her own words. Had she meant to say that? Had she even meant to think it? “I’m sorry –” “No.” Braeburn turned his face away like he had been slapped. “You’re right. I made dang poor choices from the start.” He blew out a breath. “Things … weren’t meant to turn out this way.” “No,” she agreed, her voice now bereft of emotion. “They weren’t. But this is how things are. We agreed we’d try to do the right thing.” “An’ this is the right thing?” He gestured vaguely, his hoof taking in the pitted ground, trees, distant town and all the mountains and valleys beyond. “You uprootin’ your whole life an’ comin’ here? Leavin’ your home behind? Puttin’ yourself someplace that clearly makes you unhappy?” “I … thought it was,” she admitted. “But I thought it more like ‘building a new life’.” “A new life when you were happier with your old one.” “Things change.” “That they do,” Braeburn granted. He rubbed at his face, knocking the brim of his hat with an accidental ‘thunk’ noise. “I never should’ve drunk cousin AJ’s hard cider at her birthday party.” “Regrets don’t help anything.” “No. Still got ‘em though.” She knew that better than anypony. She regretted going outside with Applejack’s handsome cousin to look at the stars. She regretted letting him put his hooves around her. She regretted waking up the next morning and realising she had crossed a line she could never uncross. “You don’t love me, Goldie,” Braeburn murmured, so softly she could barely hear him. “You don’t love me either.” He hesitated before nodding. “So what’re we doin’ with ourselves?” “We’re doing the right thing.” “An’ that is?” I don’t know. I never knew. I was just guessing from what other ponies do and hoping somepony would tell me if it was right or wrong. “Living with the consequences.” He stared at her then; stared with the intensity that would not abate if he was given a thousand years to let it soften and mould into something kind and sure. It was almost obscene. Braeburn Apple was a kind and sure stallion to his core. He cared about his loved ones. He did his best. He looked after those who needed it and never shirked from his responsibilities. He had never once said no to her – never denied her. He had owned up. He had done his best in a bad situation. He had tried to do the right thing. Golden Harvest felt the first tear rolling down her dusty cheek. And the second. The third and fourth and fifth and all those that came after blended together until the fur on her face was sodden. I want to go home. I am home. This isn’t my home. I have to make it my home now. Why? Why do I have to? Because he can’t leave. Because this town needs him too much. Because it’d crumble without its sheriff. I could move back to Ponyville. I could do this alone. Other mares do this alone. I’m scared to be alone. I want my mommy. I am – Braeburn’s kind, sure forelegs closed around her. He held her close and let her sob herself raw against his shoulder. “Shhh, shhh, let it all out, darlin’,” he whispered. “It’ll be okay.” No it won’t. She cried harder, her swollen belly not letting him pull her any closer to him. Day 15: Princess Luna/Gilda (sadfic/drama/uplifting/romance)Title: Moonbeams and Gold Feathers Pairing: Gilda/Princess Luna “Gilda! Order at Table Seven!” “I know, I know, keep your tail on.” “And try not to smash their beaks in in this time.” “I make no promises!” Gilda shouldered her way through the swinging doors into the tavern proper. The warm clattering of the kitchen gave way to the yells and song of the evening crowd. Without missing a beat, she walked through them, keeping her platter high so as not to let anyone knock it from her claws. Luckily all the patrons kept their seats and places at the bar tonight, so she arrived at Table Seven without incident. Sort of. “Aw crap, not you again!” “Nice to see you too, Gilda,” said the strong buck lounging back in his chair. “Liking the apron, honey.” “Call me honey again and I’ll feed you your paws, Galtron,” she growled. “And they won’t be attached to the rest of you.” The buck whooped to his four friends, who crowded around the circular table like she was some dinnertime show. Galtron shook his head indulgently. “Gilda, Gilda, Gilda, we both know you won’t do that.” “Oh?” She raised an eyebrow. “And how do we know that?” “Because,” he said, leaning further back and spreading his hind legs a little further apart. “We both know you want me.” The urge to bring the whole metal platter down on his head was so strong that her claws twitched in anticipation. However, she stayed the impulse. She needed this job. It was crummy and aggravating but it paid better than her last two, didn’t involve muffins at all, and had allowed her to actually accrue some savings for the first time in her life. Her! Actual savings! All that would end, however, if she brained every lecherous customer who walked through the door. Not to mention half the population of Griffinstone would have skull damage before the week was out. She gave out the plates of food, ignoring the way the five bucks eyed her rump as she walked away. She needed this job. Like, really needed it. Apart from anything else, it kept her mind occupied and stopped her thinking about … well, everything. The stupid rent on her stupid house, which she only owned because stupid Griffinstone had stopped being a cesspool long enough to make her stay. She had stayed for other reasons too, but she wanted to think of those even less. I need this job. The mantra kept her steps steady and head straight ahead. I need this job. I need this job. I need this – “An impressive show of self-control,” said a voice to her right. “I fear I would have used that platter as a weapon upon them.” Gilda paused; not because someone had apparently read her mind, but because the speaker was not a griffin. The New Moon got non-griffin customers now and then, especially since trade routes around the kingdom had reopened, but it was rare to find them in The New Moon. The tavern was in a tough area, which was why it paid so good. While she might see a yak or minotaur testing their mettle here, ponies were infrequent. Especially slightly built pegasi with wispy blue manes and delicate spindly limbs. Gilda stared at the pony, wondering how the heck she hadn’t died in the cold already. The mare looked like she might fall out of the sky if a breeze blew the wrong way. How had she even made it this far into the mountains? True, it was Midsummer and the terrain wasn’t as tough as late Autumn or Winter, but even so, nobeast made the journey to Griffinstone lightly. The pony sipped her mug of ale delicately, at odds with the rampant swigging of other patrons sharing the bar with her. She never took her big blue eyes off Gilda. Realising the pony expected a response, Gilda called on her old staple response: the shrug. “Galtron’s an idiot and his friends don’t even rate that high.” The pony nodded. “May I be permitted to order that which they currently consume?” Gilda blinked. It took her a moment to translate the question. “You want what they ordered?” “Indeed.” “Do you even know what Rat Tail Soup is?” “I would hazard that it is a soup composed of the tails of vermin?” “Plus some root vegetables, but yeah.” “Then I would like to order a bowl of Rat Tail Soup, holding the rat tail.” Gilda stared at her, waiting for the chuckle that would signify this was a joke. When it didn’t come, she had to conclude the pony was serious. “Whatever.” At the last moment, her boss’s voice chimed in her head. “Uh, I mean, yes ma’am.” The pony nodded. “You are most kind.” Gilda plucked her order pad from her belt and jotted it down. “Name and table?” “May I not consume my food here?” “Bar’s for drinking. Tables are for eating.” “Oh.” The pony surveyed the room for an empty seat. “Table Four. My mane is Moonbeam Darknight.” Gilda’s pencil froze. “You’re kidding, right?” “What would my jest be?” “Moonbeam? In the New Moon?” The pony continued to stare at her, face slightly scrunched. “Indeed, it was the name of this establishment that drew me to it. It seemed fitting for my first visit to Griffinstone.” Ugh. Ponies. Gilda only just stopped herself rolling her eyes. “Okay then. Food’ll be about fifteen minutes, give or take.” “My thanks.” Gilda turned away and banged through the doors into the kitchen. “Whatever,” she said once she was out of earshot. Thirty-five minutes later, when the tavern had filled up considerably and Gilda was rushed off her feet, she noticed the pony sitting demurely at the corner table, nursing the dregs of what appeared to be her first and only mug of ale. Crap! Gilda ducked into the kitchen. “Gavin! Did you do that special order for Table Four?” The grizzled chef pointed at a sealed wooden bowl on the warming plate. Where long pink tails usually draped down the sides, this one was bare. “Thanks!” She grabbed it and headed back out to make excuses about lazy cooks and hope the pony didn’t get pissy. Such was her hurry that she didn’t see the griffin standing right outside the swinging doors. “Oof!” Gilda fell backwards, tail bending painfully under her. The other griffin staggered back. Gilda got a glimpse of green and white feathers and a trailing red scarf. Her heart juddered. The bowl of soup took flight. Instinctively, she tried to grab for it. She wasn’t even off the floor before it hit the side of a table. The lid came off and the entire bowl of tailless soup splattered over the griffins there. “Holy – aaargh!” The buck jumped to his hind paws, holding his claws out in front of him for the lukewarm soup to drip down. “You clumsy –” He ended with a word that in any other circumstances would have made Gilda bury her fist in his sternum. “Sorry,” she apologised instead. “It was an accident. Let me help you clean up –” “Get your claws off me!” He whapped away the cloth she had pulled from her belt. “Sorry.” Gilda tried to sound sincere, but her eyes were sliding past him, looking for green feathers and a red scarf. “You don’t sound very sorry. I want to see the manager! I’ll have you fired! I’ll –” “I believe she said it was an accident,” said a soft voice. “And she apologised. I do not think such a misfortune is worthy of her job.” “Who asked you –” the buck snarled, rounding on the speaker. “–Pony?” “No-one asked me,” Moonbeam replied. “But it is clear that you intend the punishment to outweigh the crime. This displeases me.” He stared at her with some combination of revulsion and shock. “Displeases you?” The mare cocked her head to one side. “Are you hard of hearing?” “Watch yourself, pony. You’re not in Equestria right now.” “I am not? Thank you for pointing this out. I believe it had escaped my notice.” “I said watch it!” “I know what you said. I, for your information, am not hard of hearing.” Moonbeam gave him that same implacable look she had given Gilda over thirty-five minutes earlier. “I believe the vernacular to be used at this juncture is ‘do you want to make something of it?’” The buck growled. The hen behind him began to spread her wings aggressively. As was always the case in The New Moon, the other patrons began to rumble and flex their own claws in preparation for a fight. Someone somewhere hooted. Damn owl griffins. Always encouraging others to start brawling, but when the Law Guards appeared to break it up they had all mysteriously vanished into the night. “I’ll tear your guts out, nag!” sneered the soup-covered buck. “I’ll peck out your eyeballs and spit them out so I can grind them under my paw.” “Big words.” Moonbeam’s wings fluffed. Compared with his, her span was that of a sparrow. “It appears you have a big ego as well. I have known creatures with egos like yours. Generally they fall harder than those who remain humble.” He snapped his beak at her, aiming for her face. It was an old hunting trick: grab the nose and mouth to make prey panic, then get it off the ground to use your hind claws on its belly while it flailed in pain. Moonbeam danced away. Gilda was amazed her how nimbly she moved. Her hooves barely seemed to touch the floor, though she didn’t beat her wings once. The buck screamed his frustration. His hen clacked her own beak with a low squawk, clearly intending to back him up. “Fight!” “Fight!” “Fiiiiight!” The crowd closed in. Gilda scrambled up, unwilling to be caught on the floor in the melee. She realised with a start that while watching Moonbeam she had missed the exit of the griffin she had initially bumped into. “Fight!” yelled a hen beside her. “Shut up,” Gilda hissed. “Fuck you!” the hen hissed back. “In your dreams.” The hen’s eyes rounded. “You calling me a hen-pecker!?” She opened her claws. Oh crap, Gilda thought belatedly. Bad move. “What the hell is going on here!?” The swinging doors opened to reveal Gavin, ladle brandished like a sword. Beside him stood Ghairbith, the landlord of The New Moon. At the bar, Gertrude had put down the glass she habitually cleaned and had both sets of claws flat against the bar-top, ready to vault it and wade into any brawl that erupted. “She started it!” the soup-covered buck pointed a claw at Moonbeam, paused, and then shifted the claw to Gilda. “Gilda?” Ghairbith eyed her. “I knocked into somegriff and accidentally spilled soup on him.” “Did you help clean him up and offer him complimentary drinks?” “I never got that far. He wanted to see you first.” “I want her fired!” the buck snarled openly. Ghairbith raised an eyebrow. “The fuck?” This was, apparently, not the response he had been expecting. “Uh … fired. I want you to fire her.” “If I may, good sirrah.”Moonbeam stepped forward. “This young sirrah did demand the young lady’s career be terminated forthwith, and when I pointed out the paucity of his reasoning, he verbally and then physically attacked me.” “Speak common tongue, pony!” yelled someone at the back of the crowd, which had gone still since Ghairbith entered the room. Moonbeam rolled her eyes. “He said he wanted the waitress fired and when I pointed out how stupid that idea was he yelled at me and then tried to claw my guts out.” She let out a small, frustrated sigh and pulled something from her cloak pocket. “Do you recognise this?” “That’s the seal of the royal house of Equestria!” Gavin wheezed. “Indeed. I have the direct ear of all princesses in that realm. I am here as an envoy to investigate the possibility of trade between our nations. I was hoping to enjoy an evening ‘on the town’, as it were, before my business with your leader on the morrow. Instead, I find myself belittled and attacked. My report to princesses will have to include this treatment in my update of how Griffinstone is maturing as a reborn nation following the aid from our Elements of Harmony. However, I could be persuaded to, ah, tailor my retelling if you were to ensure the young lady retains her position and this young ruffian is banned from this establishment.” Ghairbith’s eyes flared. He was a tried and true businessgriffin. Even when Griffinstone was at its lowest ebb, The New Moon had stayed open and bustling. He knew an opportunity when he saw one. “Fine.” “Hey!” the buck protested. “Get out, Garwood. And take your hen with you. I warned you last time to control your temper. Well, this time you’ve sealed your own fate. The pair of you are banned.” “This isn’t fair!” “Save it for somegriff who cares.” Ghairbith nodded to Gilda and Gertrude, who hopped over the bar like a hen half her age. The two of them hustled the now banned griffins through the gap that opened for them in the crowd and tossed them out of the front door. Ghairbith stamped on the floor to get everyone’s attention. “The rest of you be warned: if there’s one more scrap of trouble tonight, you’re all banned for a week!” A chorus of groans went up but the crowd dispersed back to their tables and drinks. Gertrude returned to the bar but Ghairbith held up a claw when Gilda tried to go past him into the kitchen. “Go home, Gilda. You’re done for tonight.” “But my shift’s only half over –” “I’ll cover it until Genevieve arrives.” “Uh …” He eyed her imperiously. “Get out of here.” “But why?” “Because I’m sick of your face, that’s why!” he snapped. In a lower voice he added, “I saw her go out the front door while the pony was talking. If you hurry, you might still catch her.” Gilda’s beak fell open. Ghairbith was not renowned for his kindness. He was tough, imperious and ruthless with money. ‘Asshole’ was a better description than ‘kind’. She didn’t know what to make of his words. “Fuck off before I change my mind and make you work a double shift for single pay,” he growled. She tore off her apron and belt, shoved them hurriedly in their cubby behind the bar and galloped out of the front door. The soup-covered buck and his hen were gone, thankfully, but she wasn’t looking for them. Her eyes scanned the darkened topography of the city, desperately searching for any sign of – “I waited for you.” She froze. “I figured it’d be another half hour for your shift to end.” Her throat felt dry and sticky. “Ghairbith let me go early.” She tried to swallow but nearly choked. “To see you.” She turned around. Greta stood half concealed by the deeper shadows of the tavern eaves. Her eyes lowered when Gilda tried to meet them. She scuffed the floor with a claw. “I … I brought a bag of your stuff.” “What?” “I found it around my house. Bagged it up. Figured I’d see if you wanted any of it back.” It’s you I want back, Gilda’s traitorous brain chimed. She forced the thought away before it could get to her mouth. “Oh. That’s … that’s why you came here tonight?” “It’s just some odds and ends,” Great went on, still not looking up. “A book of recipes, some jewellery, that scarf I made you – I didn’t know if you’d want that but I figured I’d bring it anyhow. I wasn’t sure whether the ugly hat was yours or mine but –” “Greta, please!” The words burst out of Gilda unbidden. Greta fell silent. “I … I don’t want to do this.” “Do what?” came the mumbled response. “I can throw all this stuff away if you’re prefer.” “Not that! This!” Gilda swept out a claw, encompassing them both. “I don’t want to break up!” “I know you don’t.” Greta closed her eyes. “But I do.” “Look at me!” Gilda screeched. The other hen finally raised her gaze. “I’m not happy, Gilda. This … us … it doesn’t make me happy anymore.” “So your solution is to break up with me? No ‘we can work this out’, no ‘let’s try something different’, just ‘I’m leaving you’?” Great’s throat moved. “Pretty much,” she husked. “Don’t make this harder than it is, Gilly.” “No!” Gilda shook her head. “You don’t get to call me that anymore!” “Gilda then.” It didn’t seem to take much to make Greta let go of the affectionate nickname she had created when their friendship deepened into … whatever they had possessed before now. “This is hard on both of us. We shouldn’t make it any harder. You have friends. More than just me now. We should make this a clean break. That’s why I brought your stuff.” “But I don’t want anygriff else!” Gilda hated the whine in her voice but could not drive it out. “I want you!” Greta slanted her body so that the sack of belongings slid onto the cobblestones between them. She took a step away. “But … I don’t want you anymore.” “You don’t mean that! I can hear it in your voice!” “You can hear that it’s hard for me to say.” Greta took a deep breath. “But it’s true. I think maybe I loved you … but if I did, I don’t anymore. It was … I guess you could call it infatuation. It’s a word ponies use to describe feeling really strongly about something for a while and then... the feeling just … wears off. Infatuation. The feelings I had for you just aren’t there anymore.” She turned her back. “You don’t make me want to be with you anymore.” “Greta, no! Please!” Gilda begged. “We were a novelty, Gilda. Nothing more.” “You can’t mean that!” “I do. Every word. They’re hard to say because they’re true. Goodbye, Gilda.” Greta opened her wings. “Don’t come over anymore. I won’t open the door to you. Clean break.” She nodded as if to herself. “It’s better this way.” Her wings made a whoomphing noise as she took off into the night. Gilda wanted to go after her. She wanted to tackle her right out of the sky. But the bag had come open and a jewelled bracelet had slid out. It glittered at her in the dust. She had bought Greta that bracelet with money from her muffin stall. It was the first thing she had ever bought after deciding to stay in Griffinstone and not earn enough to buy her way out of this city. She wouldn’t cry. She wasn’t some stinking pony who blubbed at every opportunity. She would hold her ground. She wouldn’t even watch that stinking hen turn into a distant speck – “An impressive show of self-control,” said a voice behind her. “What the fuck do you want?” Gilda asked throatily. The click of metal shoes brought four hooves into her field of vision. Gilda lifted her head, refusing to be like Greta. She would face whoever spoke to her, damn it. “I meant no disrespect.” Moonbeam’s voice was as soft as the blue of her coat. “I was merely concerned when you departed so suddenly.” “My boss let me go early.” “Indeed.” Moonbeam looked up into the sky. “I will not ask who that was. I will merely enquire as to your state of mind.” “Huh?” Moonbeam frowned briefly, as if thinking how to rephrase her question. “Are you all right?” “Do I look all right to you, pony?” “No. You look anything but.” Gilda faltered. “Then why even ask?” “I am given to understand that it is a customary question when concerned about the wellbeing of another. The response is immaterial. It is the expression of concern that is paramount. I wish to communicate my concern for you after such a merciless rebuff from the female I assume was your significant other. Or do you prefer the term ‘mate’? I remain unsure of some griffin phraseology, despite my attempts to familiarise myself before my journey hence.” Gilda stared at Moonbeam. “Why can’t you just talk normal for once?” “My apologies. I … try.” For the first time, Moonbeam seemed uncomfortable. “It is more difficult than it looks. I generally do not have cause to talk with, ah … hoi polloi. Especially not those outside Equestria. I have friends who try to teach me but some old habits remain difficult to break.” “Hoi po-what?” Gilda shook her head. “Whatever. Forget it. I’m great. Now fuck off.” “You are not –” “Look, I know you’re some big cheese diplomat or whatever, but I’m no concern of yours! Okay? I’m not a royal or a politician or anygriff important like that. I don’t mean anything to you! I’m just your waitress.” Gilda whirled and stalked away down the dark street. “Why do you assume that an ordinary waitress would not interest me?” Moonbeam trotted after her. “Stop following me.” “Why?” “Because it’s creepy! I know ponies are weird, okay? I have pony friends and they’re … they’re fucking weird sometimes with their love and friendship and touchy-feeling feelings and … and … sometimes it’s okay, maybe even a little nice, but sometimes it just drives me nuts! And right now is one of those times!” “I have been taught that those times are when someone needs a friend the most.” “Well whoever taught you that is full of shit.” “The Elements of Harmony taught me that.” Gilda stopped in her tracks. “You know the Elements of Harmony?” “Quite well.” Moonbeam stopped a few seconds later, bringing her up alongside Gilda. “You know them too, I take it?” “Yeah.” Gilda thought of Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash. If it hadn’t been for them and their meddling, she and Greta would never have become friends, much less … “They’re full of shit too.” “You don’t mean that.” Moonbeam’s tone was gently cajoling. “I fucking do.” “You are in pain right now. The end of a relationship is a terrible time to –” “Fuck off already!” Gilda swiped out with her claws. She didn’t mean to. It was instinctive. Moonbeam jumped back with that eerie grace of hers and Gilda was left holding nothing but air. She froze for a moment, aghast at herself. “I … sorry.” She laid her claws flat, not even the sharp tips against the cobblestones. “Sorry.” “You are in pain. I know some of what it is to lash out when one’s heart feels like it is breaking. It is a terrible thing to feel. It is even more terrible to be alone when one is feeling it.” Moonbeam stepped closer. “It caused me to do something I can never take back; something that hurt the pony I loved more than anyone else in the world.” “Yeah?” “Yes.” “Did you feel better for hurting them?” “No.” “So you’re telling me I wouldn’t feel any better if I went and smashed in Greta’s windows right now?” “I do not think that would help, no.” “Pity.” Gilda sniffed. “Ah … c-crap …” A bulb of water slid off her beak. She rubbed her left eye with the back of her claws but more bulbs slid down the right side. “Cra-ap.” The invective broke in the middle, as if it had snapped apart to let all her tears out. Moonbeam laid a tentative hoof on Gilda’s shoulder. “To cry is not to show weakness.” She paused, and then added: “To show weakness is not to be weak.” “Holy fuck you are so full of sh-shit,” Gilda grunted, scrubbing furiously at both eyes. “A real cheap fortune c-cookie with w-wings.” “A … what?” She let out a humourless laugh. “Nothing.” “Where do you live? I shall escort you home. You should not be abroad in the night like this.” “Maybe I don’t want to go home. Maybe I want to go to some other dive tavern and get wasted.” “I believe drinking would be unwise in your current state of mind.” “Probably. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to though.” “Is that what you want to do?” Gilda thought about it. She sagged. “Not really.” A sigh ribboned through her as she told the stupid, interfering pony her address. “It’s only a couple of streets away. I can make it on my own.” “I will escort you,” Moonbeam said implacably. “Why are you sticking your snout into my business?” Gilda snapped. “You are alone and in pain. I would not wish that on any creature. If somepony had concerned themselves with my wellbeing when I was alone and in pain so long ago … then maybe I would not have done what I did. But no. I shut myself away and would not allow myself to be helped. It nearly destroyed me. And again, fairly recently, when I made myself alone to deal with my own guilt and pain, I nearly destroyed myself again. So though you do not know me and I do not know you, I would not see you alone and in pain if I am able to help.” Gilda considered these words as they walked, side by side, along the ill-lit streets. Griffinstone had built itself up from its ashes in the year since ponies ventured up here for the first time in hundreds of years. It had not yet regained its former glory from ages past, but it was a start. The houses were no longer collapsing and the trees in which they made their homes no longer withered and died from lack of attention. A few leaves twirled past them as they came up to her home. “You live in a tree,” Moonbeam said with something like surprise. “Yeah. What of it?” “But not inside it. Actually in it.” “So?” “Did you not have spells to increase the inside to appear larger than the outsider?” “Say what?” “Never mind.” Moonbeam shook her head and murmured, “Griffins. So literal.” “Okay. Well … thanks.” Gilda shuffled awkwardly, unsure what to say next. “You, uh, escorted me home like you said you would.” “Indeed.” “I guess you’ll be heading back to The New Moon now.” “Actually I believe I have had my fill of taverns this night.” “But you never got any food.” “I will survive.” Gilda tapped her tongue against the inside of her beak. “Look, I’m no great baker or anything, but a pony once taught me how to make muffins that are edible, so I always have a stash in my kitchen. You could eat some of those, if that’d … y’know …” She spiralled her wrist. “Whatever.” Moonbeam stared at her. It was an uncomfortable stare, like she was looking outward and inward at the same time. Eventually she smiled. It changed the whole look of her face from severe lines to something altogether softer. “Muffins sounds magnificent.” Gilda frowned. “I wouldn’t go that far, but they won’t poison you, which is a step up from the way they used to be.” Moonbeam spread her wings. “I would be delighted to dine with you, Miss…?” “Uh, Goldfeather. Gilda Goldfeather.” …. Twilight prised her face off the open book. A thin line of drool connected her to the page for a moment before breaking. “Mmrrf?” “Good day, Twilight Sparkle.” She snapped to attention. “Princess Luna!” One hasty rub with a foreleg later and she was drool free and looked only somewhat like she had slept slumped against her bookstand again. “I didn’t expect you until noon!” “It is noon.” “It is?” Twilight gasped. “I was supposed to take morning tea with Princess Celestia!” “My sister will not be offended,” Luna chuckled. “She knows how hard the task of raising the moon can be, if you will recall.” “Oh. Yeah.” Twilight Rubbed at the back of her mane, flattening down what she could. “It wasn’t, y’know, that difficult…” She trailed off at Luna’s expression. “Okay, so it was totally difficult, but I could handle it! Besides, it was only for three nights while you were out of town.” “Indeed.” Luna smiled and politely pretended not to notice as Twilight hid a yawn. “So how was Griffinstone? Did you meet with the griffin officials? Did they say yes to the trade agreement?” Twilight fired off questions eagerly. “I did meet with them and they are thinking about the terms. They have some qualms about allowing unicorns into their territory. Old culture issues,” she said at Twilight’s questioning look. “Unicorns and griffins were at war once upon a time, before the three pony tribes united.” “Oh, I know. The Hundred and One Years War.” Twilight nodded, pleased she already had that piece of knowledge to offer. She frowned a little. “So … did you like Griffinstone?” Despite herself, she still felt a little irked that Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie had been called to visit it last year and not her. Even worse, her princessly duties had kept her from visiting since then as well. Even though her friends’ stories had described the place, varyingly, as ‘fun but a bit rundown’ and ‘a total pile of dog doo’, Twilight still ached to visit and learn all about the culture from griffins themselves. It couldn’t be any worse than that disastrous trip to Yakyakistan she had taken with Spike last Autumn. She shuddered at the memory of the Noodle Incident and turned her attention back to the princess of the night. Luna wore a small, strange smile. Her gaze was fixed somewhere in the middle distance. Twilight turned her head but could see nothing of interest outside her study window. “Princess?” “The griffins are … a feeling nation,” Luna replied. “Though they disguise it well.” “They are?” Twilight thought back to the few griffins she had met: the ultra-competitive sports team, the ultra-perfectionist chef, and the ultra-unpleasant bully. Even Rainbow Dash and Pinkie’s stories of their trip to Griffinstone had detailed Gilda as ‘the grouchiest, douchiest lifesaver ever’. “Are you sure?” “Oh, I am sure.” Luna closed her eyes, her smile widening just a touch. “I plan to return there when I next am able.” “Seriously?” Twilight bounced in place. “Could you please take me with you this time? Please, please, please, pleeeeeease?” Luna laughed. “We shall see, Twilight Sparkle. The future is, as yet, unwritten after all, and a great many strange things may be contained within it that we do not yet know.” Twilight stopped bouncing. “Well that was a weird answer.” Luna just continued to smile to herself. Day 17: Cadence/Nightmare Moon (slice-of-life/darkfic)Title: First Contact Pairing: Cadence/Nightmare Moon “Cadence, what are you doing?” Guiltily, she snapped the book shut. “Nothing!” Celestia approached with elegant footsteps. Everything she did was elegant. Despite her new horn and increased stature, Cadence wondered whether she would always feel stubby and clumsy standing next to her. “A book?” Celestia arched an eyebrow. “Why so cagey about a book? Are you looking for a bedtime story for Twilight?” “Not this one,” Cadence admitted. “It might scare her.” “Oh? What is it?” “Um, just some folktales. You know the kind: wicked stepsisters having their hocks cut off, breezie godmothers, griffins plucking out the eyes of wrongdoers.” “Oh my.” Celestia nodded. “You’re right. That’s far too scary for Twilight.” She looked up at the bookcase, squinting in thought. At length, her magic extended in a glittering aura to pluck a tome off a high shelf. “Try this one.” “Huh?” “Nursery Rhymes for Pedantic Foals.” She winked at her adoptive niece. “I used to use it on … another student of mine when she wouldn’t go to sleep.” “Oh.” Cadence accepted the book with a little discomfort. She had known Celestia had students before her, and likely would after her too – Twilight was already primed for the role, in fact – but it was still jarring to hear confirmation that she didn’t occupy such a special place in hr aunt’s heart. “Thank you, Auntie.” “Think nothing of it. Now you’d better get along. It’s nearly six o’ clock, and if I remember rightly, Night Light and Twilight Velvet are going to the opera tonight.” “Yes Auntie. See you tomorrow for our lesson!” “Uh, Cadence?” Celestia nodded at the unoccupied bookstand. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” “Oh … um …. Could I borrow the folktale book for myself?” “I didn’t realise you were interested in such things.” “This one caught my interest.” “Well all right then, but please be careful with it.” “I will. Bye!” Twilight was fast asleep, a tiny bubble of drool edging from her mouth onto her pillow. Cadence sat in the rocking chair beside her, the folktales book open across her lap. Her eyes lapped up the beautiful images keenly, tracing each curvaceous line with both gaze and hoof. “I’ve seen you in my dreams,” she whispered softly. “You came to visit me, didn’t you?” She turned the page, drinking in the full profile painting of an alicorn with wings spread wide. “I thought you were just something my mind made up, but you’re not, are you? I’ve never even seen this book before, but I knew what you looked like. I knew … you existed.” She shook her head. “That you exist.” An echo of laughter she could only hear when she slept seemed to wind around the room like smoke. Cadence licked suddenly dry lips. “Nightmare Moon …” Day 18: Fluttershy/Spitfire (romance/uplifting)Title: Shame and Cupcakes Pairing: Fluttershy/Spitfire Spitfire had ever felt so ashamed. I just stood there, she thought. They needed help … and I just stood there like some high and mighty – “Um … Miss Spitfire?” The breathy voice pulled her from her thoughts. “Hm? Oh. It’s you.” The butter yellow pegasus approached on foot. That seemed rather fitting for her. Despite her valiant efforts, Spitfire had never seen any pegasus as incongruous in the sky as … what was her name again? “It’s Fluttershy, right?” “Uh-huh. Um … would you … would you like to come to our celebration party?” “What?” Spitfire’s neck snapped back a little, as though she had been slapped. Evidently taking the action as some measure of revulsion, Fluttershy cringed. “Sorry, I wouldn’t have asked – I’m sure you’re really busy – but, um, my f-friend … Rainbow Dash … she’s a really huge fan of yours and … and …” Her words devolved into a squeak. Spitfire remembered Rainbow Dash. She wasn’t the kind of mare you couldn’t forget easily. Right now, however, that kind of blind adulation was the last thing she needed. “Maybe some other time. I’m kind of busy right now.” “Oh.” Fluttershy looked around. “You’re leaving?” “Not for another few hours.” “Oh. Um, then what … um …?” “Just accept that I’m busy, kid, okay?” That squeak again. It was kind of cute, really. “Okay. But … um…” A deep breath. Something important coming next, eh? “I’m n-not a kid. I’d like to think that today I-I proved that to everypony.” Spitfire arched an eyebrow. “I guess you did. Not everyone can claim that they were key to success or failure of a whole weather team operation when they’re not even a member of the weather team.” Fluttershy nodded only a little shakily. “Right.” Spitfire turned her back. “Okay not-a-kid. See you around.” “Oh.” The deflation in Fluttershy’s tone was almost palpable. “You’re … really not coming?” “I’m really not.” Spitfire tried to keep her tone casual and light. “See ya.” “Oh.” So much emotion in a single syllable, it was kind of impressive, really. “Right. I was …hoping that we could … but never mind. You’re busy.” “Yep.” “Though just FYI … um … feeling sorry for yourself may keep you busy but it, um, doesn’t make you feel any better.” Spitfire’s hackles raised. She didn’t turn back around until she had heard the hoofsteps retreat to several yards away. Then she twisted at the waist, craning for a look at the one pony who had noticed she wasn’t standing quite as proud anymore at the edge of the half-emptied lake. “Hey, Fluttershy.” The hoofsteps stopped. “Yes?” “This celebration party. Where’s it at?” “Sugar Cube Corner. The pony throwing it lives there.” “Cool.” She knew that place. She and Flash used to go there before he expatriated for The Crystal Empire. They served a huge rainbow assortment of great cupcakes. “I might drop in.” “Really?” “Maybe. Don’t get your hopes up.” Hmm. Apparently squeaky giggles were way cuter than squeaks alone. Day 19: Discord/Sunset Shimmer (comedy/action)Title: Discord Stole the Title Pairing: Discord/Sunset Shimmer “Are you sure about this?” Twilight ducked under a branch and kept running. “Yes!” She shouted her reply over her shoulder, not breaking stride. “Separation is the only known cure!” “You know you have wings, right?” “I know, but you don’t!” Sunset scaled a boulder with the help of inertia and leapt off, hitting the dirt hard. She picked herself up and fought to keep up with the galloping princess. “Why can’t we just teleport away?” “Because a ‘port takes you through a microverse for a few seconds and that’s where he lives.” “What?” “Trust me. You don’t want to teleport.” Twilight’s horn glowed, slashing at some low-hanging vines in her path. “It’s not far now. She’ll know what to do.” “But she doesn’t even know me!” “She knows enough from what I’ve told her. She’ll help. Plus, she’s the expert.” “I knew this was a bad idea! I knew I shouldn’t have come back! If we die, this is all on you convincing me to come back to Equestria! I hope you know that!” “Now is not the time for snark, Sunset!” “It’s always time for sna-” A puff of light erupted before them. The forest began to uncoil, colours slithering along bark and leaf. Newly polka-dotted plants reached for their hooves as they passed. A tree leaned down and grabbed for them. Sunset skidded, trying to make a hairpin turn and miscalculating totally. She slewed into the candyfloss tree’s grip and its sugary wooden fingers closed around her whole body. “Twilight!” On instinct she tried to ignite her horn, but it had been too long. What had once come so naturally to her was so unpractised that her whole skull pulsed in rebellion. Sunset’s front legs buckled and she nearly fell over as she was hoisted into the air. “I’m coming!” Twilight flared her wings and soared up after her. “Put her down! Ngg!” Blasts of magic came easily for her and she used them to devastating effect. The tree let out a groan like a wounded animal and tried to fend her off – letting go of Sunset in the process. “Gaaaaaaaaaah! Not helping! Not helping!” “Sunset!” Twilight dived to catch her. But it wasn’t Twilight who made it first. Another puff of magic erupted. Sunset found herself suddenly embraced by a lion’s paw and griffin’s claw. She stared up into the mismatched face, her own mouth agape. “Playing hard to get, are we?” Discord wagged a finger. “Naughty, naughty.” He brought his face down, giving her an up close and personal view of his heart-shaped irises. “Good thing I like naughty.” “Oh crap,” Sunset trembled. “Crap, crap, crap! You definitely weren’t a thing when I left.” “Discord! Let her go!” Twilight demanded. “I’m not going to hurt her!” “You’re not in full control of your actions right now.” Twilight hovered mere feet away. “You accidentally drank the love potion Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom and Scootaloo made for their science fair.” “Pshaw. That was just grape juice. And I stole it fair and square while they weren’t looking.” Discord rolled his eyes. They turned eerie circles in his skull. Their irises did not change shape though. “Like some two-bit love potion cooked up by a bunch of amateur fillies could affect me.” “Regardless of what you think, Discord, you have been affected and-” “And you popped up in front of the portal right as I was coming through it,” Sunset muttered. “Just my luck.” “We need to keep you two apart for –” “You’re not keeping us apart!” Discord swept Sunset into a crushing hug. “We’re in love!” “Grrk! Can’t … breathe …” Discord glared at Twilight. “You’re just jealous because you can’t get any, bookworm.” Twilight blinked at him. “Wh-what?” “Princess of the Frigid North! You’re just green-eyed with envy over what beautiful, dear, wonderful Sunset and I have together.” “… Help … me…” “In fact!” He pondered for a half-second, then let go of the gasping mare long enough to click his claws. Instantly, Twilight cried out and clutched at her face. She fell backwards, lurching drunkenly through the sky. She struck a tree, grunted and plummeted to the ground. “Twilight!” Sunset wheezed. “That should keep her busy for a while. Come, my dear! My pocket dimension awaits! I can’t wait to play happy homemakers with you.” “What? No! Twiligh-” They disappeared in a click of claws. …. Twilight hit the forest floor with a thump, still holding her face. She lay for a moment, trying to orient herself, frightened to take her hooves away in case – “Twilight?” The steady thump of a pony’s canter signalled an arrival she wished had happened five minutes ago. They had been so close! “I heard a commotion and … oh my …” Gingerly, Twilight uncovered her face. Fluttershy’s squeak told her all she needed to know – especially since she could no longer see. “Twilight …your eyes … they’re … they’re made of … grass!” “Fluttershy, do you still have that special key spell to Discord’s dimension that he gave you in case of emergencies?” “Um, yes? B-but he couldn’t have done this –” “We need to use it. Now.” “Why?” “Sunset came for a visit for Princess Celestia’s birthday. It was meant to be a surprise. Now we need to go rescue her from a love-potion-addled Discord.” Fluttershy paused before responding. “Oh … my …” Day 20: Trixie/Starlight Glimmer (comedy/romance)Title: The Greatest Love Story Never Told Pairing: Trixie/Starlight Glimmer “Wow.” “Shut up.” “Wow.” “I said shut up!” “I mean seriously … wow.” “Shut up!” “So … do you have any other friendship lessons you learned from Princess Twilight that you want to show me?” “…” “Starlight?” “I hate you.” Day 21: Sombra/Gilda (comedy)Title: So Meta Pairing: Sombra/Gilda “So … why have we been paired up again?” “Crystallllllllllllssssssss.” “No, seriously, why?” “Crystallllllllllllssssssss!” “Last time I checked, this author has me starting something with Princess Luna, which was weird, yeah, but I could dig it. You, on the other claw…” “Crystallllllllllllssssssss!” “… That’s all you can say, isn’t it?” “Crystallllllllllllssssssss?” “I thought so.” “Crystallllllllllllssssssss. Crystallllllllllllssssssss. Crystallllllllllllssssssss!” “Waiter! Check, please!” Day 22: Apple Bloom/Apple Bloom (grimdark)Title: Prisoner of the Past Pairing: Apple Bloom/Apple Bloom “I can’t believe it.” “Believe it, sugarbud.” “But it’s … it’s impossible! Princess Twilight said it’s impossible!” The older mare sat down, sending up wisps of straw. “Twilight never did tell y’all the truth about how Starlight became her protégé, did she?” “Student,” Apple Bloom corrected. “Starlight Glimmer is Princess Twilight’s student.” “Oh, yeah, right.” The older mare nodded. “Y’all are still at that stage, ain’t you?” “Huh?” “Never mind.” She waved a grubby hoof. “Time travel stuff.” Time travel. Apple Bloom had heard the story of how Princess Twilight once tried to warn her past self of some future woe, but she had never thought she would someday meet her own future self. She was just an earth pony after all – one stunningly talented at potions, but actual spellcasting? “Did Sweetie-Belle-?” “No!” Her older self’s brow crinkled in a mask of pain. It smoothed out in less than a second, but Apple Bloom recognised the expression from hours of looking at herself in the mirror, wondering whether her parents would have been ashamed of their blank flank daughter. She hadn’t seen that expression in two years, but she still knew it for what it was, added wrinkles or not. “No,” her older self said again, calmer this time. “Sweetie Belle didn’t cast this spell. I did.” “For real?” “Uh-huh.” “Wooooow.” Apple Bloom hopped down from the hay bale. “I gotta go tell Applejack! She’s gonna lose her mind when she sees you! Not to mention Big Mac – he might even say a whole sentence in shock!” Her older self blinked. “Oh my gosh … I forgot about them … how in Celestia’s name could I forget they were still …?” “Huh?” She shook her head. “Never mind. You can’t tell ‘em I’m here. I ain’t got much time.” “What?” Apple Bloom stared at the weather-beaten mare, wondering what had possessed her to cut her mane so ugly and short. Why, in places it looked almost shorn, like she was some kind of sheep. And was that … a tattoo? “I get a tattoo!?” It slipped out before she could stop it. Her older self instantly clapped a hoof to her neck. “Fuck.” Apple Bloom’s eyes rounded. Even several years after getting her cutie mark, nopony allowed her to curse like that. “Uh … dang it, I should’ve … fuck. You weren’t supposed to see that.” Apple Bloom’s stomach tightened at the frustration in her older voice. “You … you ain’t here just for a visit, are you?” The hoof sagged and fell to the barn floor with a hollow noise. “No, sugarbud. I ain’t. I’m here to … to prevent a great tragedy.” “What?” Tears formed at the edges of her older self’s eyes. “Someday I’m … you’re … we’re gonna get … cocky. We’re gonna try an’ prove we’re just as good as unicorns at magic.” She blinked, sending the tears skidding down her soot-stained cheeks. “It ain’t gonna go well. We’re gonna … hurt someone. Someone important. An’ it’s gonna have consequences we ain’t able to deal with.” She opened her eyes, but her focus was somewhere in the middle distance. “Consequences nopony can deal with. Not really. We aimed higher than we could reach an’ … someone else … someone real important paid the price for our arrogance.” A ball of tension began to twist up Apple Bloom’s insides. She was suddenly very aware of how far the barn was from the house. “So … you came back to warn me? Like Princess Twilight came back to warn her past self?” “Kinda.” Apple Bloom took a step back, towards the ladder down from the hayloft. She could jump it. Maybe. “K-kinda?” Her older self reached into one saddlebag. The other was blackened from fire damage, too useless to contain anything. She pulled out a long, crystalline object with a gently pulsing sphere at its tip. “I’m sorry, sugarbud. I loved bein’ you. I loved it so much. I love the you I used to be … but we ain’t safe. We’re too reckless. I went back so many times, but we always do sumthin’. We always hurt … or kill … someone … so this is the only way to be sure we don’t wreck everythin’ for the ones we love.” Apple Bloom turned to run. She made it to the top of the ladder before she heard a ‘ching-whoomph’ behind her. When the magical blast hit her, every muscles in her body convulsed. She reared back, instinctively trying to get away from the pain. Her mouth opened in a scream that never came. And then there was no more pain. There were no more muscles, or bones, or streaming ribbon trailing behind her. The battle-scarred mare watched the blackened outline fade away. There wasn’t even any dust. She liked to think she could feel the timelines shift and break apart. This one was on a better path now. Her exit from it was also sealed. She could return to the future, but it would not be the one she left. Her future existed somewhere else, in a different timeline she could no longer access. “There ain’t no place for a pony like me in this one,” she muttered as she turned the crystal wand on herself. Moments later, all that existed of any Apple Bloom were quickly drying tearstains on the hayloft floor and the plaintive voices of her siblings calling for a sister who would never come home. Author's Note 'We are products of our past, but we don't have to be prisoners of it.' ~ Rick Warren Day 23: Trixie/Pinkie Pie (Tragedy)Title: The Visitor Pairing: Trixie/Pinkie Pie “Hiiiiiiiiii!” Trixie screwed her eyes shut and put her hooves over her ears. Not her again. Anything but that stupid ball of cheerful fluff. “Go away.” “Nope, nope, nope!” The pink blur circled the room twice more before coming to a screeching stop in the middle. This place was small enough without her and her huge personality to fill it up. “Hello hugs!” “No!” Trixie leapt up from where she had been innocently eating a bowl of cereal. She backed up so far that her tail hit the wall. “Get away from Trixie you … you freak!” “Aw, that’s not very nice!” Pinkie Pie pouted. “Aren’t you glad to see me?” She giggled. “Except you can’t see me with your eyes all shut like that, silly. C’mon, Trixie, open those peepers and give me that welcome hug I know you can do!” “No!” Trixie shook her head until the backs of her eyes hurt. “Trixie is not glad to see you! Just go away already! Can’t you take a hint?” “Not really. Applejack and Twilight say that allllllll the time. I can take a mint though. Would you like a mint chocolate chip muffin? I can bake a batch riiiight up.” “Trixie said go away! She is so not in the mood for this.” “Trixie?” Pinkie’s inflection was different this time. Sadder. Less bouncy. “Is something wrong?” Everything was wrong. Everything. “Go. Away.” “But …” Pinkie trailed off. Trixie knew that if she opened her eyes, she would see that stupid poofy mane losing its poof, like somepony had let all the air out or something. She pressed her eyelids tighter together. “Trixie …” Plaintive. Sorrowful. “Please …” No, no, no, no … “You’re being mean.” Pinkie’s voice throbbed with wounded emotion. She was always such a ball of feelings. Everything was bigger with her: she contained more happiness, more cheeriness, more happy, happy, happy! All the damn time. She was exhausting. It never ended with her. Even the injury in her voice now was so clear that an ignorant mare like Trixie could read it for what it was. Trixie had never been very good at emotions. She didn’t recognise her own very easily and was terrible at understanding them in other ponies. She was better at burying feelings under a shiny, bright coat of paint that glowed so bright and so gaudy that it fooled most ponies into thinking she knew what she was doing with her life. Except she didn’t. Very few had ever understood her enough to scratch the paint away. Even fewer had been interested enough to keep digging past the sequins and spectacle to find the insecure, vulnerable mare underneath. Nopony had cared enough to pull her out from inside the shell she had created for herself. Not even Twilight Sparkle, who had blithely accepted Trixie’s apology without seeing the scream behind her eyes. Twilight had hugged her and said it was all right, that everypony made mistakes, and then … that was it. Like a hug and a few words would be enough to fix the reasons Trixie had put on a magical necklace and tortured a whole town. Nopony had asked why as they all hurried to forgive her. Nopony except the stupid pink pony who had chased after her when she was already three miles outside Ponyville; the stupid pony who had made her talk on the steps of her parked cart, who had held her as she cried, and who given her a necklace of rock candies whose significance Trixie had not understood until later, when she summoned enough courage to see through her promise to come back to Sugar Cube Corner for her own birthday party. “You came!” Pinkie had yipped with delight when Trixie walked sheepishly through the doors. Streamers had been thrown. Cheers had rattled the rafters. Ponies had slapped her back and welcomed her into their midst. And through it all, that stupid pink pony kept up her stupid mile-wide grin, like Trixie gracing her stupid party with her presence was the best thing in the world. Don’t open your eyes. Don’t open them! “Tr …Trixie?” Pinkie whispered. “Do you really want me to go away?” “Yes. Trixie doesn’t want you here. Trixie doesn’t need you. She can cope on her own.” “Really?” Such a tiny voice from such a larger-than-life pony. “But … I love you.” Trixie’s chest felt like it was about to implode. Don’t do it! Don’t – She opened her eyes. There was nopony there. There had never been anypony there. Her chest collapsed in on itself and the wellspring of pain bubbled up where her heart used to be. “I love you too …” she whispered brokenly, slumping to the floor of her cart and burying her face in her crossed forelegs. “I’m sorry. I should have come back sooner. I should have said it before I left. I didn’t know you were sick. I didn’t get your letter. I didn’t know …” Nopony rubbed her back. Nopony mopped up her tears. Nopony presented her with a piece of cake and a smile. Trixie was alone with her pain. Just like always. Author's Note I'm aware it's not March anymore, but IRL problems have held up this project. I will, however, be damned if I let it go unfinished. Day 25: Derpy Hooves/Nightmare Moon (darkfic)Title: Derpy's Folly Pairing: Derpy Hooves/Nightmare Moon The Queen always won. That was the central tenet of their whole society. Mountains could crumble, seas could rise and the skies could fall, but the Queen always won. Derpy didn’t open her eyes when the door opened. She heard whoever it was cross the floor and come to a halt on the other side of the curtains. If she had possessed the energy to prise her lids apart, she would have seen their shadow silhouetted against the fabric. “Majesty?” The mattress creaked. “Understand, Captain, that if you do not have an exceedingly good reason for entering my chambers without my permission and disturbing my rest, your head will decorate the castle gibbet.” The voice swallowed audibly. “Indeed, Majesty, but I bring news and you previously stated that if we were to unearth anything about the rebels –” Derpy’s feathers fluttered in the breeze created by the Queen leaping through the curtains. “What news do you have?” she demanded in a voice close to a snarl. “Our intelligence agents have reported they will be moving their children in envoy tomorrow. Since we stopped their supply lines their tenacity in their current location is precarious. We believe they will use the old tunnel system from old castle dungeons that runs beneath the forest.” “You can swear to the truth of this?” “Yes, Majesty.” “Good. Rally my forces. We attack tonight. No prisoners. I want an example made of them for the other rebels who already moved out. I suffer no insubordination and I do not spare anypony who defies me – not even children.” “It shall be done, Majesty.” The pony departed and the door shut. It took several moments before the curtains moved and Derpy felt the brush of dark feathers against her face. “Your daughter is among the rebels now, is she not?” Her breath ought to have caught at the words. “I do hope you said goodbye when you gave her to them.” The much larger mare sank onto the bed beside Derpy, purring her words almost sultrily. “Did you think I did not know of your plans? I know everything, little pegasus. I knew you had been sent to assassinate me. I knew the rebels’ leader was hoping you could charm your way into my bedchamber. I knew your plan from the very beginning. It simply served my own needs to have you linger in my bed a while before I informed you of your own folly. Then again …” The shift in weight on the mattress told Derpy the other mare was touching her, but she could not feel it. “I think you are aware of your own folly now. I do hope you at least came to that conclusion when I snapped your spine. You mortals are so fragile. One simple romp and you’re all broken to pieces.” Derpy wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to leap up and fly away, to warn Applejack and Pinkie Pie to get the foals to safety before it was too late. She wanted to hug Dinky one more time– “You rebels need to learn what my ponies already do,” Nightmare Moon whispered. She leaned in close, her lips almost touching Derpy’s ear. Vague pressure on either side of her head and the pulse of magic in her ears signalled the Queen’s horn coming to life. “I always finish what I start and I always win.” Dink– SNAP! Day 8: Rainbow Dash/Celestia (romance/comedy)Title: The Race Pairing: Rainbow Dash/Celestia “Ready?” “I’m ready.” “Set?” “I’m set.” “G-” BAMF! Rainbow Dash skidded to a halt in mid-air – helped immensely by the lips she smacked into. Not that she was complaining. In fact, it was about the only thing she would slow down for. For minutes at a time, even! She parted from those lips with both alacrity and hesitation. It was severely unhelpful that the owner also had great use of them in beatific, slightly smug smiles that just about made Equestria’s Fastest Awesomest Pegasus implode and fall out of the sky with lust. “No fair using teleportation in kiss chase!” she protested in a voice that only shook a little, honest. “Oops,” Celestia said without a hint of regret. “My bad. Shall we try again? I’m sure I’ll get it eventually. Even if it takes a thousand years.” Day 16: Photo Finish/Princess Celestia (darkfic)Title: Magnificent Pairing: Photo Finish/Princess Celestia The flash went off yet again, causing Celestia to blink so rapidly the entire throne room seemed to strobe. “Beautiful! Beautiful!” cried the pony behind the camera, only slightly muffled by the cape draped over her front half. “You are magnificent your majesty! Mwah!” Celestia put on her practised Beatific Princess Smile. “You are too kind.” “Nein!” the pony cried. “Not kind enough! You are wondrous! Your beauty makes the mountains themselves want to sing! Why, it is enough to make a mare tear out her own eyes so they may not be soiled by looking at ordinary, ugly, ponies for the rest of her life instead of your magnificence – ptooey!” “Uh …” Celestia struggled for a response. “Thank you?” More exclamations of her looks came after that. They were flung in such rapid-fire succession that by the end of the photo shoot, Celestia felt quite exhausted, despite having not moved from the top of the dais. “My film roll, it is finished!” the photographer gasped. “They are all finished.” “Possibly a good thing,” Celestia said softly. “Day Court starts in ten minutes.” She did not add that she desperately needed to pee. Princesses did not admit to their subjects that they had small bladders and an over fondness for grape juice. “I thank you for your time, Photo Finish. I trust you have taken enough photographs for your magazine client?” “Uh, ja! Of course! Better Homes and Ponies will be so pleased with this magnificent showing!” Photo Finish snapped the legs of her camera stand together and began backing away, pushing her entourage behind her as if with an invisible force-field projected by her tail. “Good day to you, your magnificent eminent majesty!” “Uh … quite,” Celestia said to the closed door. In her dark room, Photo Finish clipped another print to the line dangling above her head. Hundreds littered the lines strung around the room. “Magnificent,” she muttered to herself, solution sloshing in the tray as she added another print. Behind her, beneath her schedule board, a cork board teemed with magazine clippings, ponyrazzi photos and other articles. Nowhere on the schedule board was any letter from the fictional Better Homes and Ponies. Photo Finish squinted her uncovered eyes hungrily at the while alicorn developing in the tray. “So magnificent …” Day 24: Rainbow Dash/Princess Luna (romance/comedy)Title: Royal Canterlot Noise Pairing: Rainbow Dash/Princess Luna “We are most pleased with thy performance!” “Yeah … could you stop shouting now?” “We apologise. We are simply rather thrilled with our evening so far.” “Uh, when you say ‘we’ are you speaking for both of us?” “Oh, sorry. Sometimes I still forget myself.” “Yeah, I get that. I also wish I could get some painkillers right now.” “My sweet Rainbow Dash, are you injured?” “Put it this way, Princess, it was a long, long and lonely thousand years on the moon for you, wasn’t it?” “Uh …” “So yeah, I need some painkillers right now.” “Would … would I be able to … kiss your injuries better? I believe kisses are famed for their healing properties in this modern age.” “Princess, if you kiss me again, I’m going to end up more injured.” “… Heh.”
Day 1: Queen Chrysalis/Noteworthy (tragedy)Title: Last Breath Pairing: Chrysalis/Noteworthy He approached the throne carefully, dragging one hind leg. His queen kept up her baleful stare until he halted at a respectful distance and sank into an awkward bow. “Majesty.” “Report.” Her voice was clipped and toneless. “Ponyville is … l-lost.” He tamped down a cough. She sucked in a sharp breath through her nostrils in what he assumed to be anger. Keeping his head low, he waited for her response. “How?” “The librarian … T-Twilight Spark-kle.” The cough tickled the back of his throat. “A spell, my liege. She c-cast a spell to … dispel illusions. Cast over the whole t-town from a … b-balloon.” It almost made him want to laugh. He had commented to Lyra only last week on how that hot air balloon went to waste when it could be used to better the town. He had meant by renting it out to other ponies and their businesses for advertising. Instead, it had been used to rain down destruction in glittering pieces of magic. “The citizens … we were all stripped of our disguises. They p-panicked … mobbed … only a few of us g-got out.” “Where are the others?” “Captured.” He shut his eyes. “At least three were killed. Twilight Sparkle called for them to merely be restrained but the crowd … they were out of c-control. St … am … pede … hrrk!” The cough exploded from him in a shower of green blood. Without his permission, his body pitched forward and refused to obey when he tried to rise. He must have faded out for a moment, because the next thing he knew, his queen was cradling his head. He blinked up at her, confused. “My liege, you m-mustn’t …” “Hush,” she snapped. “Lay still.” Her horn glowed. He felt warmth moving through his body, like being in front of a fire after a day of throwing snowballs with friends. Thoughts of Lyra, Bon-Bon, Minuette and Caramel flashed through his brain. The look Lyra had given him when he changed form right in front of her: betrayal only just covered it. He hoped she hadn’t been part of the mob that cornered him and the other exposed changelings. Lyra put up a zany front but she was a soft soul. It had been so easy to sip from her love whenever Bon-Bon came to bring her lunch, or even just when he got her talking about her marefriend. She would never forgive herself if she thought she was responsible for his – “Hrrk! Krrrkah!” Blood splattered his queen’s downturned face. A large green globule dropped off her snout. “M-My queen!” he said, aghast. “I ap-pologi–” “Hush,” she said, much softer than before. He felt the warmth inside him prod at his hurts: at his cracked carapace, broken horn and half-severed leg. He sighed, even though none of them magically fixed themselves. Her horn ceased to glow. The warmth inside him, however, maintained. “Drone 23345, what name did you go by on your placement?” His vision blurred. “N-Noteworthy, my queen,” he said with difficulty. “I posed as a stallion c-called … Noteworthy…” She gently touched her forehead to his. He felt her love flow over him, through him, into him, filling him up. He realised with absolute clarity just how much she cared beneath her icy exterior. She loved all changelings with a deep and abiding emotion. And at this moment, this single crystalline moment, she loved him most of all. “You did well, Noteworthy,” she murmured. “You deserve to rest now.” “M-my … my …” “Rest, dear Noteworthy.” With a happy sigh, he closed his eyes and allowed the darkness to claim him.
Day 2: Rarity/Shining Armor (romance/drama)Title: Don't Say a Word Pairing: Shining Armour/Rarity “Package for youuuu!” Derpy trilled. “Miss Hooves.” Rarity stepped daintily off her doorstep. “While I, ah, appreciate the early morning wakeup call on top of the sterling service you and the Equestrian Royal Mail provide.” She lit her horn. “Would it be possible not to have it come at the expense of my mail box for once?” Derpy giggled. “Yeah. Sorry about that. I swear, I don’t even know how this happens.” Rarity sighed and gently pushed the pegasus backwards to free her head from the misshapen mailbox. “It’s a mystery for the ages, darling.” Derpy’s head came out with a loud pop. “Now, you say you have a package for me? “Uh-huh!” Derpy held it aloft. “All the way from the Crystal Empire!” Rarity’s heart nearly stopped. “Keep your voice down!” She cleared her throat, the better to rid herself of that panicked hiss, and continued. “It’s, ah, very early in the day, darling. My neighbours may still be abed.” “Oh. Whoops. Sorry.” Derpy held out the brown-paper-wrapped box. “It’s a bit rattly. I hope I didn’t break anything.” Her ears drooped. “You won’t tell my supervisor if I did … will you? I can totally fly to the Crystal Empire and replace whatever it is. I just really, really need this job –” “No, thank you, that won’t be necessary.” Rarity accepted the box and trotted back inside with all speed. “Well, I won’t keep you. Have a nice day.” “Huh? Oh! Yeah! Totally! Have a nice-” The end of Derpy’s sentence was lost behind the slam of the front door. Rarity shot the bolt home, just in case. Thank heavens Sweetie Belle wasn’t visiting this weekend. Rarity loved her sister but there was no more curious foal in all Equestria. She would ask questions upon questions upon questions, and this was something Rarity could not face questions over. Mainly because she didn’t want to think about the answers. With quick efficiency she removed the brown paper and the gift-wrap beneath. The little box was velveteen. It creaked lightly as she opened it. Inside, a bracelet of exquisitely cut gems glittered in the early morning light. Breath catching in her throat, she read the small piece of paper folded up and twined beneath it on its small black cushion. ‘Still thinking about you. Looking forward to the next time you visit. Will be the Crystal Catwalk Week next month. Hope you’re competing. Those dressing rooms are more soundproofed than guestrooms in the palace.’ She held the bit of paper to her chest, where it wrinkled in the tightness of her grip. Her whole body underwent a powerful ache that had her biting her lip. It was wrong. She knew it was wrong. He was a married stallion, and a new father to boot. This whole thing should have ended months ago when Cadence first told him about the foal. No, it should have ended after their first unexpected, hurried encounter in her workroom the night before his wedding, when they could have put it all down to Chrysalis messing with his mind and jumbling up his thoughts so he didn’t know what he was doing. But it hadn’t. And it wouldn’t. She had submitted her entry form for Crystal Catwalk Week the moment it was announced. “Oh dear,” she murmured, trying her best to dispel memories of slabbed muscles pressed against her back and hot breath in her ear, whispering her name with something between a happy sigh and a heart-rending sob. The note levitated into the air. It incinerated and the ash dropped neatly into the trashcan hovering beneath. She replaced it in the corner and snapped the jewelery box shut. Tucking it into her dressing gown pocket, she went to get ready for the day like everything was perfectly normal and she didn’t have the power to bring down a royal family kept in a line of velveteen boxes in her bedside drawer.
Day 3: Fancy Pants/Svengallop (romance/fluff)Title: A Challenge Worth Taking: Part 1 Pairing: Fancy Pants/Svengallop “And then, do you know what she had the gall to say to me? Do you know what she had the sheer gall to say to me!?” “Mmm. No.” “She told me I was a hack! That has been! That no-good, no-account layabout trailer trash nag called me a hack! And then she fired me! I mean, I ask you, is that fair?” “Mmm. No.” “Fancy.” Svengallop pushed away the face burrowing against his neck. “It is incredibly hard to throw a hissy fit with you nuzzling me all the time.” Fancy Pants drew back, the tip of a loosened cravat between his teeth. It fluttered down like gossamer when he spoke. “That’s rather the idea, old bean.” His glasses were on the nightstand but his eyes glinted just as much without them. Nonetheless, not to be deterred from his own querulousness, Svengallop folded his forelegs and grumped, “You always try to shut me up with sex.” “You’ve never complained before.” “I always had a job before.” “You’ll get another one.” “Not of that calibre. Do you know how hard I had to work to create The Countess from that sow’s ear? She smelled of dirt and chewed hay while she talked when I first met her. But I saw her potential. I nurtured it. I worked my flank off for her!” “And rather a sumptuous flank it is, too.” “Fancy!” “What? It is.” “You’re not taking me seriously!” With a resigned sigh, Fancy Pants sat back on the mattress. His mane slewed sideways, covering one half of his face in a very rakish fashion that would have had all the mares of Canterlot high society swooning at his hooves. Too bad he would jump over them all to reach the stallion on the other side. “Sven, I apologise if you think I don’t care about this, but from my perspective, you’ve shed a dead weight. Coloratura had clearly run her course. By this time next year, her album will be in the bargain bin of music stores everywhere and you’ll have a new client who will be much more grateful – and deserving of your talents.” Svengallop averted his face sullenly. “Remember The Undulating Rocks?” “Yes,” came the grunted reply. “And The Creepy Crawlies?” “Yes.” “And Tailor Fastfoot?” “Yeeees.” “You still managed to snag a nopony from nowhere and turn her into a star bigger than all those previous clients combined. You’ll be able to do it again. You’ve got the gift, Sven. I’ve seen you fall down like this and then pick yourself up again. It’s one of the things I admire most about you.” “You do?” Svengallop turned to him in surprise. Fancy Pants nodded. “I wish I had your tenacity. I’ll be the first to admit I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth. I never really had to work hard for anything. I went to the finest schools, had the finest clothes, attended the finest parties and met the finest ponies, and none of it impressed me because I didn’t have to work for it. You, on the other hoof.” His smile quirked one half of his mouth in a way that was eminently photogenic. “You, I had to work for. You wouldn’t give me the time of day when we first met. You were a challenge. I wasn’t used to it. And the more I got to know you, the more I realised you weren’t just a challenge for me, you’re a challenge for the whole world. No matter how many times it tries to know you down, you just won’t stay down. That’s very, very attractive.” “You’ve never said any of this before.” Fancy’s smile faltered for just a second. “Well, I … I’ve never had cause to.” He coughed into his hoof. “I didn’t want you to think you were just another one of my conquests.” “Oh pish posh.” Svengallop rolled his eyes. “The notches in your bedpost are as fictional as Fleur’s eyelashes.” Fancy chuckled. “Now, now, keep the bitching for when we see her tomorrow for dinner. Or actually, don’t. She’s bringing her new beau and she’ll have my guts for garters if I allow you to show her up.” “You don’t allow me to do anything! I am my own Celestia-damned pony, thank you very much!” The smile solidified again. “See what I mean? Such a challenge.” He growled softly under his breath. The conversation devolved quickly after that. Like gossamer taking wing, the cravat drifted to softly cover the eyeglasses on the nightstand. The jacket that followed knocked over the light, which fell to the floor with a thump. Neither stallion was in much position to care at that moment. Later, however, Svengallop grubbed around in the dark to find it and switch it on. “Mrrf, what’re you going?” Fancy Pants asked from under the sheets. “I need to fetch a pen-knife.” “Excuse me? What for?” “I’m carving a notch on your bedpost.” Author's Note I was so tempted to add 'schmoopy' to the genre of this story. Schmoopy is a word that needs to be used more. Schmoopy. Schmoopy, schmoopy, scmoopy.
Day 4: Marble Pie/Prince Blueblood (romance/slice-of-life/uplifting)Title: Glitters of Ashes Tonight Pairing: Marble Pie/Prince Blueblood “Come on Marble! You can’t just stay here by the drinks table all night.” Marble did her best to hide her whole body in its whole frilly dress behind her mane. Needless to say, this didn’t work. Pinkie Pie regarded her with the closest thing she could get to sadness. “Aren’t you enjoying the Gala at all?” “Mmhmm.” She nodded emphatically. The colours and bright lights and beautiful ponies were thrilling. She just wished she was watching everything from behind tinted glass so nopony else could see her and recognise how much she didn’t belong among them. “Pinkie Pie!” The gigantic twisting snake-goat creature curled into existence beside them from literally nothing. One second she was staring into her sister’s eyes, the next the monster in a top hat and tails was between them. Marble squeaked and only just resisted diving under the table. “It’s your turn, my dear. Fluttershy sent me to fetch you.” “My turn?” Pinkie seemed nonplussed. “To sing. Don’t tell me you forgot?” The snake thing’s lower lip quivered. “Your duet with Fluttershy. She won’t go on without you.” “OhmygoshItotallyspacedonthatohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh!” Pinkie vibrated in place like a bottle of soda full of mints. “Marble, please try to dance with somepony at least once while we’re here? For me?” Marble shrank back so much, hut butt hit the table. “Or if not for me, then for poor Maudie?” She froze, the vision of Maud, sick in bed and unable to use her ticket, firmly planting itself in her mind’s eye. Marble may have been timid and folded under pressure more than a cheap tin can, but she loved her sisters more than anything. “M-mmhmm,” she said, trying to sound convincing. “Pinkie Piiiiie!” whined the snake monster. “Okay, okay, okay, Discoooooord,” Pinkie replied, bouncing away. Marble remained where she was, only slightly bruised that Pinkie had assumed she would not follow to watch the performance. She toed the expensive tiled flooring for a while, eyed the punch, discarded the idea of drinking any and spent five minutes concentrating furiously on picking all the tiny pieces of shredded spinach off a cold boiled potato plucked from the salad tray. When it was bald of greenery she studied it. It looked like one of Maud’s beloved rocks. Instantly, she thought of her elder sister and was unable to squash the pang of guilt that came with it. Maudie would enjoy this party so much more than me. She deserves to be here, not me. I’m so useless. So many ponies would give their left hind leg to attend the Grand Galloping Gala and I can’t even do this right. I’m so – oh! Squeezed involuntarily tight in her hoof, the greasy potato popped free. It sailed in a wide arc through the air. Marble realised its destination seconds before it landed. She tried to summon a shout, but all that came out was a useless squeak. “Oh!” cried the stallion, brushing at his mane. “I say! What the blue blazes was that?” Marble blushed crimson as his eyes fixed on her. “Did you … did you just throw something at me?” he asked, apparently dumbstruck at the very notion. She shook her head, simultaneously trying to draw it into her body, tortoise-style. She covered her face with one whole foreleg, sinking to the floor in such abject misery that her legs refused to hold her up anymore. This was a mistake. This whole party was a mistake. She wasn’t bubbly Pinkie Pie who understood parties and ponies and how to deal with both at the same time. She wasn’t Limestone, who would have challenged anypony to make fun of her with just one vicious glare. She wasn’t even stoic Maud, whom nothing seemed to bother, much less fluster. She was just stupid, useless, pathetic Marble. “Oh my.” Footsteps hastily trotted up to her. “Are you ill?” She continued to barely hold in her sobs. “Do you need some fresh air? Come, come now, you’re making a scene.” Startlingly, a pair of strong forelegs heaved her upright and manoeuvred her away from the refreshment table, towards the door to outside. “She’s with me. Just getting some air, doncha know,” the stallion said to the guard as they passed. Once outdoors she expected him to let go, but he keeps pushing her until they reached a tiny stone patio with a granite bench onto which he unceremoniously plopped her down. “There now. If you’re going to vomit, you’re safely out of sight.” “Mmm … hmm …” she said, trying to form ‘thank you’ and failing miserably. “I guess Goldenmane spiked the punch after all. Funny; he never usually gets away with it. The staff are always watching like hawks. It does make it dashedly difficult to pull off even the simplest of jests at events like these. Quite impressive that he managed it this time. How much did you drink?” Marble shook her head. “You didn’t drink? Well then, why are you acting like some common louche drunk?” Her shoulders hunched. She bent further over and finally let her tears flow. “Oh sweet Celestia, now you’re crying. I never know how to deal with crying mares. Um … um … oh yes. Right. Here.” She looked up to see a handkerchief thrust under her nose. “Well?” he said impatiently. “You’re supposed to accept it. I read up on etiquette after the last disastrous time I came to this bloody event and I know for a fact that if a gentlecolt offers a mare his hankie, she is obliged to take it as a favour.” Marble sniffed, choking on her words. She shook her head and made a circling gesture between them with her hooftip. “What?” He scowled at her. “It’s the other way around? Argh!” He practically flung the piece of monogrammed fabric at her and clasped his face with both hooves. “I was born into high society and I still can’t remember all these petty, putrid, pustulous rules of etiquette. Life was so much simpler when I just didn’t bother with them at all!” Marble caught the fluttering hankie before it hit the ground. She looked at it, then at him. Sniffing, she dabbed delicately at her eyes. He saw her and gave her truculent nod, but it was clear he wanted to be someplace else. Marble could understand that. It was the way all ponies except her sisters got around her. Even her parents ran out of patience with her eventually. The stallion sat down on the stone bench. “Ugh, if it weren’t for social obligation, I wouldn’t bother with this blasted event at all.” Marble must have looked surprised, because he rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, I know: it’s the talk of the town, the thing on everypony’s lips, the places where everypony whom everypony should know goes to see and be seen. But I’ve been attending since I was a colt and quite frankly I’ve found it increasingly irksome every year. I skipped it altogether last year. Faked an illness. It was marvellous. I gave the staff the night off and kept the whole wing of the castle to myself.” He seemed to realise what he was saying and sat a little straighter. “Uh, I mean … it’s just such a shoddy production since Auntie Celestia started letting the riffraff in.” Auntie Celestia? Marble’s eyes widened. Then that mean … if she recalled Pinkie’s stories correctly … this had to be … He looked up at her squeak. “What the blue blazes is wrong with you?” She shook her head frantically. He raised his eyes to the heavens. “Mares. I shan’t ever understand them. If it’s not wanting to be treated like royalty, it’s acting like we threw dog dirt in your face when we do pay you compliments. Make up your blasted minds, will you?” Marble just stared at him. Prince Blueblood leaned back. “You’re rather easy to talk to.” “Mmhmm?” “Yes. And you provide a nice distraction to get me out of that party for a while.” She coughed daintily into her hoof as a ‘you’re welcome’. Two voices rose above all the others inside. Marble recognised Pinkie’s, but the other breathy one wasn’t one she could immediately place. Prince Blueblood wrinkled his nose. “Karaoke. I ask you. This event is going to the dogs.” Marble liked dogs. Father had never let her have one though. He said they had no place on a rock farm and Mother had complained about the potential for hairs on the furniture. Why couldn’t she just have a pet rock, like her sisters? She flattened the hankie against her skirt, studiously not looking at Blueblood. “Oh, don’t bother. I won’t want that back.” She paused to almost raise her gaze at him, but settled for looking at his hooves. “Mmhmm?” “I’ll just get new ones. You keep that rotten old thing.” She allowed her eyebrows to tick ever so slightly downward. He sighed aggressively. “No, not because you’re riffraff. I just prefer … fresher items of clothing and suchlike.” His gaze lingered half a second too long on her bodice before shifting away. Marble looked down at her gown. It had been her mother’s. It was a little old fashioned but she thought it was pretty. She sighed. He was the second pony to comment on it. He hadn’t fainted like Pinkie’s friend, but still. Marble sagged a little. “What? What?” Blueblood snorted. “Don’t cry again.” He paused, as if thinking hard, then added sullenly, “Please.” She frowned at his hooves. It was possibly the most aggressive thing she had ever done. It had the effect of a sparrow pecking a dragon. “Is there something on my hooves?” he cried in disgust, raising each one to inspect. “I just had a hooficure!” Marble’s mouth fell open. A stallion having a hooficure? Her father would have conniptions at the very idea. She thought of Applejack’s brother and his big, soup-plate hooves. All the stallions she had ever met used their hooves for working and would never even think about taking care of them with primping and polishing. Strangely, she found the idea … intriguing. She cleared her throat. Blueblood put his hooves down with a relieved sigh. “Still perfect.” He tipped his head back. “It’s rather nice out here. The last time I went for a walk outside during the Gala, I was expected to keep complimenting the mare I was with. Ugh, it was ghastly. She thought that just because I’d shown her a modicum of interest, we were automatically an item, and tried to monopolise my whole evening.” He frowned. “Though … I did let her get covered in cake for me. So … I think that made us even. I think. Fancy Pants informed me that I was a dreadful boor all evening, so maybe not.” He scowled at the moon. “It’s all very confusing and aggravating. He made me read all these books on manners and refused to let me attend any of his social events until I could prove I’d read them. I mean, it’s not like it was his wife I insulted! Though … I don’t think that makes it any better.” Marble was at a loss for what to say, so she opted for an eloquent, “Mmhmm.” “Ugh. You’re possibly right. That’s very annoying.” Blueblood transferred his gaze back to the doors into the Gala. “All the same, I don’t think I wish to go back inside just yet.” “Mmhmm,” she agreed. Strange as he was, she felt much more comfortable out here talking to him than in there trying not to be a wallflower amongst so many glittering ponies. They sat in silence for a long while. It wasn’t nearly as strained as Marble would have expected. Crickets chirped. Somewhere, an owl hooted and ducks quacked on a midnight swim across the royal pond. The karaoke inside thrummed a steady rhythm as a male voice joined Pinkie and her friend. It sounded a lot like the snake monster. “Dash it all!” Blueblood cursed suddenly, making Marble jump. “I didn’t ask your name. I’m fairly certain that was in one of those blasted books. So, what’s your … wait. No.” He took a beleaguered breath. “May I enquire as to your name, my … dear?” He seemed to struggle with the last word. Marble stared at him. “Mmm…” She paused. “Mmmmmmarble,” she squeezed out. “I’mmmm Mmmmmarble. It’s … mmmmost pleasant t-to … mmmmmeet you.” He looked at her strangely, as if her speech impediment was something he had never before come across in his life. She wondered if he was going to insult her now. On instinct, she ducked her head to hide her face behind her mane. Instead, he took her hoof and kissed it, producing a blush so intense she was surprised her whole head didn’t melt. “Lovely to meet you, Miss Marble. I’m Prince Blueblood.” Author's Note Title taken from this quote: “Rejoice with glitters of ashes tonight Sparkling for moon's spiced silver bite Upon skin of darkness, loving night more Storm begins unlocking cold wind's door” ~ Munia Khan
Day 5: Fleur De Lis/Big Macintosh (romance/slice-of-life/uplifting/drama)Title: A Challenge Worth Taking: Part 2 Pairing: Fleur De Lis/Big Macintosh “Honest, Fleur, it’s fine.” Big Mac decided not to push her hooves away but it was difficult not to flinch as she fiddled with his bowtie for the umpteenth time. “Apologies, mon bien-aimé, but it was lop-sided and it bothered me.” It would not do to roll one’s eyes at one’s marefriend when one’s marefriend was already a bundle of nerves. Instead, he raised a hoof and placed it over hers. Her delicate white oval vanished underneath his and he was struck once again by how much this relationship should not work. Usually he banished that thought with a swift buck to a tree. No trees here though. The only wooden things were the tables and doorframe. He doubted the posh Maid of Dee pony at the entrance would appreciate him smashing the furniture just to work off his agitation. “It’ll be fine,” he said instead. Fleur was wound tighter than a coiled spring. He could feel her leg quivering. “I do hope so.” “His opinion really means a lot to you, don’t it?” She turned her face away. Big Mac heaved a sigh. “I promise I’ll try not to embarrass you.” She turned back, jaw dropped. “You will do no such thing! You will be yourself, and if he does not approve … well then, he can go … go boil his head in a pudding pot!” For emphasis, she brought her other hoof down on the table, rattling the glasses and cutlery. “Who can?” Fleur’s pale coat seemed to lose what little colour it had. She whirled in her seat, not removing her hoof from under Big Mac’s and so turning to face the speaker in what amounted to a spectacular display of her own flexibility. “Fancy!” Fancy Pants gave a roguish smile that instantly made Big Mac want to buck a tree. Several trees. Really tough, big ones that could withstand much force. “My dear, you look ravishing as always,” Fancy said easily, air-kissing Fleur. “As do you, mon ami. As ever, you have broken the hearts of so many merely walking through the doors without stopping at their tables.” “Oh gag me with a spoon,” said a nasally voice that came from slightly beyond Fancy Pants. Fleur seemed to hesitate. “Svengallop … so nice of you to join us mon … ami.” That last word did not come easily, Big Mac could tell. The lanky stallion in a cravat and glittering waistcoat practically stalked up to their table and glowered at Fleur with undisguised dislike. “Charmed. Truly,” he deadpanned. “And this must be your new beau?” “Oh. Yes. Fancy, Svengallop, this is Big Macintosh Apple.” “Howdy.” Svengallop narrow his eyes. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” “Now, Sven, you’re being unconscionably rude,” Fancy Pants interjected. “No, really, I’m sure I’ve seen him somewhere recentl-” Svengallop cut himself off mid-word and gasped, “Apple! Ponyville!” “Eyup.” “You’re that obnoxious home-breaker of a mare’s brother!” He lowered his head like he was a billy goat about to head-butt Big Mac. “Applejack! That was her name. Applejack Apple!” Just one good, tough tree. That was all he asked for. Was that too much? “Eyup.” “That interfering nag ruined my –” “Sven!” Fancy Pants’s voice cut across the other stallion’s like a knife. “That’s enough!” He frowned. “We came here tonight to have a nice dinner with Fleur and her boyfriend, not to make a scene.” “But-” Svengallop started but again stopped himself. He made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a sneeze and dumped his body unceremoniously into the chair Fancy Pants pulled out for him. Fleur was twitching. Big Mac rubbed her back briefly, a solid presence by her side. She turned to face him and he saw the unhappiness in her eyes. Apparently she wanted to see Svengallop as much as he did. The memory of Applejack’s tirade about Coloratura’s former manager was still fresh in his mind. Nopony who ticked off his sister could be good. Yet big Mac was a stallion of his word. He had promised Fleur that he would have dinner so her best friend could check him over and he would dang well do just that, annoying primidone tagalong or not. “Sven, you’re being very rude.” Svengallop folded his forelegs against Fancy Pants’s reproof. “I have a right to be.” “This is neither the time nor the place.” He sniffed. Fancy Pants slid into the chair next to him. “So sorry, my dear. He hasn’t been quite himself since he ah, trip to Ponyville.” “His sister made my best client kick me to the kerb,” Svengallop sniped. “She did?” Fleur asked Big Mac. “More like she helped a pony remember who she was under all her make-up an’ mane extensions an’ somepony I won’t mention made one mistake too many in takin’ her loyalty for granted,” Big Mac replied. Sven sniffed so loudly it was a wonder the tablecloth didn’t shoot up his nose. Fleur seemed to consider Big Mac’s words. A slow smile spread across her face. “It is never a good thing to take anypony for granted.” “Nnnope.” “I always liked the Countess. Perhaps I will invite her over sometime.” Her smile turned wolfish. “We could do each other’s manes. Paint our hooves. Talk about boys.” Sven fizzed in his seat like a shaken up bottle of cider. “She goes by Rara now, from what I can recall,” Big Mac supplied. “Rara?” Fleur said the word several times, as if turning it over with her tongue. She clapped her hooves together. “I like it! It is fun to say!” Big Mac smiled. Fleur’s delight was like standing next to a warm fire. It still amazed him that this refined, fun-loving, high-society mare could possibly show any interest in a careworn country pony like him. Yet it was him she had crossed the Grand galloping Gala to ask to dance, not any of the other equally refined stallions there. “Excusez-moi, but may I have this dance?” “Say what?” “Je m'excuse, I did think I was clear. Ah, the music, yes? It is for dancing? I would like for you to accompany me onto the dancefloor.” “You’re … talkin’ to me?” “Why of course! You are all alone in this corner. I would be speaking to who else? The ficus tree?” “I … what?” “Ce n'est pas bien. Maybe my Equestrian is not as good as I did think-” “Nnnope, nope, nope! Sorry, it’s my fault, I just … you’re really talkin’ to me?” “Perhaps I am misunderstanding something here, yes?” “I’m just surprised, is all.” “Pourquoi? Uh, I mean, why?” “Well … ‘cause you’re a lady. A mighty fine one at that. You probably come to this shindig every year an’ got a pedigree a mile long. I’m a plus-one.” “A plus-one?” “I’m my sister’s guest. She got invited and I’m her tagalong.” “Tagalong. This is a funny word. But does it matter how you gained entrance to the Gala? You are here now, oui? Does you being a, ah, plus-one means that you are unallowed … no, that is not the word. I apologise. Uh … disallowed? Prohibited! Oui, does it mean you are prohibited from dancing?” “Um, nnnope. I guess. But ain’t you better off askin’ one of these here other fine stallions instead of me? Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am, but where I come from this ain’t the kinda dancin’ we go in for. When it comes to ballroom … I ain’t much of a dancer.” “Then this is marvellous! I am not a good dancer either. I have tried to learn many times, but je suis un mauvais danseur! I remain terrible.” “I reckon you couldn’t be as bad as me.” “Shall we see?” “Uh … sure. I guess.” “Magnifique! Then may I have this dance, Monsieur Tagalong?” “Sure … what’s Prench for ‘Miss’?” “Mademoiselle.” “Oh. Okay. Then sure, mamzell … uh…” “Fleur de Lis.” “That there’s a right pretty name, mamzell.” “Why thank you!” He could still hear the orchestra if he tried. He could especially hear the square dance they started to play after a brief conversation at the punch bowl and the sound of Fleur’s laughter as he tried to teach her how to do-si-do and she kept tangling up in her own long, elegant legs. “This is amazing! I have not have so much fun at the Gala in such a long time! Last year I only was covered in green slime and the year before a lot of animals got in from outside and a bird pooped on my head. Heh, such a funny word: pooped. But this! This ‘square dancing’ is so much more fun than being pooped or slimed on! And did you see Princess Celestia? She was dancing too! Il était une merveilleuse soirée!” And so here he was months later, meeting whom she had described as ‘the only pony whose opinion really matters’ – at least to her. Fancy Pants smiled genially across the table. “I don’t know about you ponies, but I could use a drink right now.” He picked up his menu. “How’s the wine list?” “Uhh…” Big Mac struggled with a fitting response. “Unremarkable.” Fleur intercepted the question. “Though I do know that they serve an excellent vintage of …” She caught his eye and gave one of her more brilliant smiles. “Apple cider.” “You don’t say?” Fancy Pants was looking at the menu and seemed to miss their silent exchange. “Well then, if you recommend it my dear, I shall have to try some. Waiter?” Svengallop sank lower in his seat as the waiter trotted over. “Of course, because what I really want this evening is something made from apples.” “You’d prefer something else, love?” “Gin and tonic.” “Three apple ciders and a G&T my good sir,” Fancy Pants said without missing a beat. “Charge it to my tab please.” “Yes sir, Mr Pants.” The waiter nodded and backed away a few steps. “A big G&T,” Svengallop added. “And don’t skimp on the G!” “Uh … yes sir.” “You cannot have a good time without alcohol singing in your veins, Sven?” Fleur leaned forward, balancing her chin on one upturned hoof. “C'est triste. So sad.” “You can’t have a good time unless you’re rolling around in the mud with the pigs, Fleur?” he shot back. Her chin slid off her hoof abruptly. Big Mac stood up. “Nnnnnope. Now that’s enough. I ain’t about to let you insult her or me or my family one whit more just ‘cause you’re in some kinda snit over sumthin’ that ain’t got no place at this here table.” Svengallop did not say anything or move for a moment. Finally he uncrossed his forelegs and placed both front hooves flat on the table. “Oink. Oink.” That was it. If a tree didn’t spontaneously appear for him to buck, right this second, he would going to get arrested for – “Vous êtes un poney horrible!” Fleur shrilled. “Pourquoi ne pourriez -vous pas être civil pour une seule soirée?” Other diners looked up at the shrieked Prench, ears flicking forward in interest. It wasn’t often a spat broke out at such a distinguished establishment. Fleur glared at Svengallop so hotly, his mane should have spontaneously combusted. “One single evening! That was all! You had to hold your vicious tongue for one evening, but you could not even do that! It always has to be about you, Svengallop, does it not? But this is not about you! This is about me and the stallion I love!” She grabbed Big Mac’s hoof and jumped off her chair. “And quite frankly, we are too good for this … this …” She clearly struggled to find the right word and frustration erupted from her in a string of what were clearly invectives Big Mac could not understand. “Suivez-moi, Macintosh! We are leaving before I do something I may or may not regret but would most certainly get into trouble for.” “Now steady on there.” Fancy Pants got to his hooves. “Fleur, be reasonable.” At the audible snigger beside him, he whirled on his own partner. “Sven! Your behaviour tonight is atrocious! Quite frankly I’m ashamed of you.” For the first time, Svengallop actually flinched. He looked up at Fancy Pants with something akin to dismay. “Fancy, I –” Fleur pointed her perfectly formed nose in the air. “Your efforts are appreciated, Fancy, but we are still leaving.” She tugged on Big Mac. And then again when he didn’t move. She looked over her shoulder at him, surprised. “Macintosh?” He shook his head. “If you leave now, darlin’, it’ll cause a mess of trouble.” She frowned. “He is being so awful –” “I know that.” “You said yourself –” “I know that too. But I ain’t about to leave over it. You said it yourself: this evenin’ ain’t about him, it’s about you an’ me. He can try all he likes to spoil it, but what’ll he get? One evenin’ of makin’ everypony around him uncomfortable an’ embarassin’ the pony he loves. You an’ me? We’ll be fine. He ain’t got no power over neither of us unless we let him. I’ll admit, I lost my temper just now, an’ that ain’t an easy thing to make me do. But if we leave – if you leave – that’s storin’ up trouble for the future.” He leaned in and planted a bold kiss on her mouth. “Please stay. For me?” Her eyes searched his face. Then she nodded, only a little shakily. They both returned to their seats. Fancy Pants regarded Big Mac across the table. Very slowly, he gave the bigger stallion a nod. There was a lot in that nod. Big Mac wasn’t the fastest of thinkers, but even he could tell he had just passed some sort of test. The waiter reappeared with a tray of drinks. “Is everything all right over here?” “Marvellous,” Fancy Pants replied. “Well, maybe not marvellous, but at least partway there.” His horn glowed, distributing the glasses to the three other ponies. “A toast, I think.” “Oui,” Fleur agreed. “To … love?” “That sounds like an excellent thing to toast. Don’t you think so, Sven?” He raised his glass. Slowly, Svengallop did likewise. “To love,” he deadpanned. “To love!” Fleur smiled, her hoof finding Big Mac’s under the table. Big Mac grinned. “To love.” And then he toasted so forcefully, his glass shattered in his hoof.
Day 6: Spitfire/Flash Sentry (romance/sadfic)Title: Goodbyes Are Not Forever - Except When They Are Pairing: Flash Sentry/Spitfire “You’re sure this is what you want?” “Yes, I’m sure.” She would not cry. She refused to cry. She was a Wonderbolt, damn it. Wonderbolts did not cry over some stupid stallion with rocks in his head. She would be stoic. She would be resigned. She would be– “Please don’t go.” Damn it all! Flash stopped in the doorway, suitcase dangling from his mouth. He set it down in the corridor outside her room and looked back at her. “This isn’t goodbye forever. I’ll have leave. I’ll be back before you know it. We can spend Hearth’s Warning together, just like we planned. You can come visit my family in Cloudsdale –” “But you won’t be here all the time.” She cursed herself inwardly but that didn’t stop her runaway mouth. “It won’t be the same. I … I’m going to miss you so much.” He sighed and came back into her room. “Spitfire, you know why I can’t stay. This isn’t the life I want. I thought it was, but …” She nodded, a hard lump in her throat. She had probably known before he did. Where she and the other trainees had relished their aerial display training, he had rarely smiled during routines. He was good – very good – but there was no heart in what he did. As much as she hated to admit it, this was not the career for him. “Royal Guards don’t get a lot of leave,” she murmured. He pulled her towards him, placing his forehead against hers. She could feel his voice thrumming through her skull when he spoke. “Neither do Wonderbolts.” “I’m just a reserve.” “Not for long. You’re better than good, Spitfire. We both know you’re destined for great things. Who knows?” He smiled. “Maybe someday I’ll be able to tell my guard buddies that my girlfriend is captain of the Wonderbolts.” She shoved lightly at his chest. “Idiot.” Her smiled faded. “I’ll write to you every day.” “Likewise.” “No you won’t. You hate writing.” She pressed the flat of her hoof under his chin, bringing his mouth up for a kiss. “Once a week though. Promise?” “Promise.” He leaned in for another kiss. “I’m going to miss these most of all.” “Yo, Flash, your transport is going to leave without you if you don’t – oh!” Spitfire’s hoof fell to the floor. “He’ll be right out, Soarin’.” “I didn’t see anything!” came the distant cry from down the dorm corridor. “Certainly not you two eating face!” Flash trotted to his suitcase and looked back at her. She couldn’t go down to the foyer and see him board the transport. She couldn’t be that strong. Everypony would see her bawl like a baby. She would lose everyone’s respect. She blinked rapidly, already fighting back tears. He must have seen the sheen across her eyes in the dim light. Or maybe he just knew her well enough not to ask her to wave him off. “Goodbye.” He picked up his case and left. “Goodbye.” She half raised a hoof. Set it down. Dropped her head. “I love you,” she whispered.
Day 7: Cadence/Tirek (grimdark)Title: Deathless Love Pairing: Cadence/Tirek She loved him. She had to love him. Why else would she be doing this? Ponies who loved other ponies did things like this, right? Right? Except ... he wasn’t a pony. Did that make a difference? Did ponies who loved not-ponies do things like this? No, she loved a pony! And she loved him! That meant he had to be a pony! That meant doing this was all right! It did! Could not-ponies love? Could she love? She didn’t know. Did that mean she wasn’t a pony anymore? Had she ever been a pony? She struggled to recall some fact to confirm her own existence, but all that came back from her echoing mind were fragments. The caves. Bars. Chains. Confinement. Imprisoned for so long. Welts around her neck and legs. Hair worn off from decades of pacing and rising and sitting and laying and pacing and rising and sitting and laying and … Ponies needed to eat! Yes, that was a fact! A pony could not have survived thousands of years of imprisonment without eating, as she had! That must mean she wasn’t a pony. The realisation of this single fact made her want to laugh and cry. She was never quite sure of appropriate responses to her own thoughts. The demons who surrounded her cage laughed all the time so they were no help. She had tried to laugh along with them but it tired her out and she had to stop. Sometimes she ran along the bars as they dragged their spears across it, creating a rat-a-tat-a-tat sound that made her head ache gloriously. Other times she hunched in the corner and wept, a writhing ball of blood and guts and pink and yellow and purple and oh, oh, oh, oh – Thousands of years. She had lost count long ago but he told her that was how long had passed since the beginning. She wasn’t sure if that meant she had been born into the depths or brought here from somewhere else. Sometimes she got flashes of blue skies, green fields, a ball of fire behind little puffs of white – even a shining turret! Nothing connected though. The fragments were just fragments and shattered away until they resurrected themselves later. She would lay on the floor of her cage wondering how she knew what a turret was and why the word ‘shining’ made it hard to breathe. She hated being alone. There were other cages on other mountains down here but their occupants were nothing more than smears of blue and white. Now and then she stuck her foreleg through the bars to reach for them, when she had forgotten whether they were far away or just very small. The demons usually bit it off and she revelled in the newness of watching her limb regrow. It took weeks but anything new was welcome. Very little changed in the depths. Last time that happened she thought she had stopped breathing for a while, thinking of blood and bone and a shining white coat all torn up and draped around it. Yet that was stupid. She had pink fur, not white! Today she had four legs. The demons hadn’t pulled her tail out either. It hung limply behind her and twitched when she heard distant thumping. She recognised his approach. Her chest did something. It was hard to put a name to what. She thought maybe she enjoyed it. He appeared out of the mists, a towering mass of power wreathed in red flesh and black fur. His booming footsteps made stalactites fall. Demons ran around the cave floor, trying to get out of the way. She watched as one was squashed by a falling pointy rock. The pain came in her chest again. Did she like seeing its brains smashed on the floor? He stepped on the remains like they were nothing and came to a halt between the three cage-topped mountains. His smile had so many teeth in it. Fangs. That was what they were called. Pointy teeth were fangs and roundy teeth were … not-fangs. Just like he was a not-pony. Not-ponies were able to shrink and grow at will, like he did. She reasoned that he must be a different kind of not-pony than her, since she could not shrink or grow even when she strained so much that she passed out. Her cage door creaked. She always forgot there was a door. It never seemed to be there when he wasn’t. She watched the hinges with fascination. “Princess.” He boomed less when he was small. Did that mean he could shrink his voice too? Could not-ponies shrink their voices? She kept watching the hinges until he held her chin and forced her to look at him instead. He released her abruptly, shaking off drool. “Heh. You always were the weakest.” Her? Weakest? Compared to who? The other caged creatures? Did that mean he preferred them to her? Her chest did that thing again. She struggled to her feet. “Nnnn…” Her throat revolted. She bent low, coughing up black filth. Everything was dark down here. Even her insides. Even her heart. If she even had one, that is. She couldn’t see one painted anywhere on her body and she was so hollow inside, there couldn’t possibly be one there. “Nnnnno!” “No?” He tilted his head to one side, horns gleaming in the meagre light. He had two horns. She only had one. She had wings though. He did not. She supposed that was why he tore them off sometimes; because he wanted some for himself and it wasn’t like she was using hers. They always grew back, so it may hurt and she screamed a whole bunch, but then she had something new to think about and that was good. Blood made her breath catch and her chest clench and sometimes something thrummed in the back of her mind like a prisoner crying to get out and show her the blue skies and sunshine and purple wings and no hope, no more, dead, dead, dead, oh, oh, oh – “No what?” he asked now, snapping her back to reality. “Nnnnnn…” “You’re not the weakest? Oh, but you are. Your mind crumbled so easily compared to the royal sisters. They still fight me. It is amusing.” Royal … sisters? She blinked, unable to comprehend what he meant. She shook her head and tried not to topple over from dizziness. She was always so thirsty … “Nnnnno! Not alllllllllowed ...” She huffed, focussed on getting the words out. “Not allowed what?” He seemed amused. That was good. Amusement meant he liked her. “To … choose … them!” she finished finally. “Mmmme! Have to … choose … me!” She sucked in a lungful of foul air. “And why should I-?” “Because I love you!” she shouted before he could finish his question. His posture changed. His arms flexed. He had arms. She did not. She stared at his hands as he unclenched his fists. “Oh, Princess,” he purred. She loved him. She had to. That was why she let him turn her around like he did. That was why she let him do the things he did. She had to love him. Why else would she be doing this? Ponies who loved other ponies did things like this, right? Right? Except ... he wasn’t a pony. Did that make a difference? Did ponies who loved not-ponies do things like this? No, she loved a pony! And she loved him! That meant he had to be a pony! That meant doing this was all right! It did! Author's Note Title taken from this quote: 'What is this power the dead have over the ones they leave behind? It's strange and beautiful and frightening, this deathless love that human being continue to feel for the ones they've lost.' ~ from 'The Lost Girl' by Sangu Mandanna
Day 9: Sapphire Shores/Countess Coloratura (romance/fluff)Title: Dynamite With a Laserbeam Pairing: Sapphire Shores/Countess Coloratura She loved being in the wings at these shows. The lights, the laser-beams, the moving backdrops and gyrating dancers. It was such a spectacle – and the music! Even the stagehoofs were nodding along, and they had heard these songs a million times during rehearsals. On stage, the lead pony threw her head back, rearing up slowly with expert muscle control as she let out a note so long and loud it was a wonder she didn’t pass out. She strutted. She whirled. She spun about the stage with easy grace, weaving in and out of the other performers but never missing a hoofstep or note. It was the product of hundreds of hours of practise but it looked effortless. The crowd loved it. They bayed her name. Ponies at the front struggled to get her attention, screaming in joy when she winked at them on her way past. She dipped down, slapping open hooves, then jumped back up to snap her head to and fro in time with the beat. The final chorus came. The song ended with an eruption of smoke from machines at the back of the stage. The crowd went wild. Pieces of glitter spiraled down from gigantic buckets positioned around the ceiling of the arena. “Mares and gentlecolts of Baltimare, you’ve been a wonderful audience!” she said into her head-mic. “Thank you so much and goodnight!” A reprise of her own song played her off. She shimmied out of sight, then bounded back into view for another bow. She did this several times, threatening to leave her audience and them giving them more. She introduced her team, encouraging whoops and applause for them too. When everypony had been thanked, she made the audience applaud themselves for being such great fans. Finally, she took her leave and the house lights came up. She was sucking down a water bottle from a stage-side table when soft hooves approached her from behind. “That was amazing, sweetie.” She coughed up half the bottle and turned with that same effortless grace. “Coloratura! Baby!” “Hi Sapphire.” “I didn’t think your tour ended for another month!” Sapphire Shores lit up more than her own show’s lighting rig. “Girl, did you change your mane? I like it!” “Well … I kind of have more time on my hooves now than I did when we last spoke on the phone. And, um …” The plain blue pony in a plain blue dress smiled up at her. “Could you … could you call me Rara from now on?” “Uh … sure, if you want me to. But I still get to call you Baby too, right?” She laughed. “Right.” The laughter ceased. “I … I fired Svengallop.” “Why? Did something happen?” Sapphire was instantly all concern. “Do I need to go bust somepony’s head? I never liked the way he looked at you. I’ll cave in his dang face if he so much as –” “No, no, it was nothing like that, I just … I needed a change. And he was the first thing I changed.” Sapphire’s scowl morphed back into her brilliant, traffic-stopping smile. “Baby, we gotta talk. And kiss. I ain’t kissed you without nopony lookin’ for far too long. But also talk.” She nodded to herself, making the peacock feathers on her headdress wave. “We can multi-task. You can tell me what happened while I kiss the dang face offa you.” Rara giggled. “Oh gosh, I missed you while I was on tour.” Sapphire dragged her off to her dressing room. “Come show me how much. I scored a room with a lock at this gig.” “Don’t you need to get changed out of your stage outfit?” “What do you think I’m planning to do?” “Oh. Oh! Oh, I have missed you!” Author's Note Title taken from: She's a Killer Queen Gunpowder, gelatine Dynamite with a laserbeam Guaranteed to blow your mind Anytime Ooh, recommended at the price Insatiable an appetite Wanna try ? Lyrics from Killer by Queen
Day 10: Limestone Pie/Starlight Glimmer (romance/comedy/slice-of-life)Title: Hitting the Jackpot Pairing: Limestone Pie/Starlight Glimmer Limestone leaned sideways and hissed from the corner of her mouth, “Exactly how long are they planning on staying again?” Marble gave one of her useless shrugs and continued trying to hide behind her mane. Limestone rolled her eyes. On the other side of the quarry, Pinkie leaped onto a giant stone and hopped about in a series of poses that nearly had her toppling right back off again. Below her, Maud gazed up implacably while the pale pink unicorn stared with something like alarm. “I don’t see why Pinkie couldn’t come home alone for once. I mean, she’s always dragging along her dumb friends nowadays.” Limestone’s shoulders hunched. “It’s like we’re not good enough for her anymore or something.” Marble shook her head. “Well that’s the way it feels. First it was those friends of hers, then the whole freaking Apple family, and now some dumb unicorn she didn’t even warn us she was bringing! I mean, we’re totally off schedule now!” Marble shrank away from her raised voice. “Sorry, Marble. It just busts my boulders, y’know?” “Mmmhmm,” Marble agreed, sounding like she was doing so just so her sister wouldn’t lash out. Limestone loosed a rough sigh. “I’d better go get Maudie back. If we hurry, we can still make today’s quota. We’re about due to hit a seam in the north quadrant and I’ll be damned if my careful planning goes into the shale pile just because Pinkie’s pals can’t stay away from our farm.” She stalked across the quarry like she owned the place – which was partially true, but not as much as her gait implied. Pinkie noticed her first, hopping up and down and waving madly. “Limey! Limey! Limey! Hi! Hi! Hi!” She gestured downward. “This is my new friend, Starlight Glimmer! She’s learning about friendship and how not to take out your personal demons on the world because misery really doesn’t actually love company after all! I brought her here to –” “Whatever.” Limestone took up her favourite stance: slightly forward, head tilted back exposing her chin, the better to glare down at ponies taller than her and let them know she was boss. “Maudie, we’re off schedule. Can you get back to the north quadrant? Double time. Sunset in less than an hour and seam imminent if we dig t the co-ordinates and depth I showed you on the map.” “What kind of seam?” Maud inquired. “Amethyst if my calculations are right.” Maud nodded and walked away without bothering to bid anypony goodbye. “Well … that was rude.” The unicorn whose name Limestone did not know wrinkled her nose. “Some of us have work to do,” Limestone snapped. “We can’t all be lazy mares who go off visiting places and ponies regardless of whether they’re wanted or not.” The unicorn looked shocked. Then angry. She opened her mouth to respond but Pinkie jumped down between them. “Limey! That’s not very nice!” “I’m not very nice,” Limestone replied without missing a beat. Nothing made her crankier than somepony busting in on her workplace and knocking her off schedule. “That’s pretty obvious,” the unicorn murmured. Limestone snorted and scuffed the ground with a forehoof. “You got something to say to me, hornhead?” “Limey!” Shock laced Pinkie’s tone. “That’s racist! What would Granny Pie say if she could hear you say that?” Finally Limestone backed up, if only mentally. Images of her grandmother’s disapproving expression flickered through her mind. Granny Pie had been dead for years but she and her steadfast values were still the biggest influence on her granddaughters’ lives. Limestone’s eyes dipped. “Uh … ah ponyfeathers. Sorry Pinkie.” “It’s not me you need to apologise to, Limey, it’s Starlight.” “Ugh.” Limestone drew in a breath, Granny Pie’s voice thrumming through her. “I’m sorry I lost my temper and called you a hornhead. I just hate being off schedule when we’re so close to hitting a seam. We need a boost of bits to repair the roof of the farmhouse and this kind of break would really help with that.” Pinkie gave Starlight Glimmer a look over her shoulder. Starlight clearly struggled, but bit out: “What does that mean – a seam?” “A seam is a … a seam.” Limestone searched for a way to describe it to somepony not born into a family of rock farmers or the creatures they traded with. “Of gems. In the ground.” “A seam like in a dress?” Starlight Glimmer blinked at her, clearly not understanding. “Ugh.” Limestone pressed her hoof at the tight spot between her eyes. “Follow me. It’s easier – and quicker – if I just show you.” “Oooooh, Starlight! You get to see an actual seam of gems! You’re so lucky! Not even Twilight has seen one of those here. Neither has Rarity.” She paused. “Though she may actually be able to help us locate them, come to think of it. Hmm … I wonder why I never thought of that before.” Limestone shook her head. Pinkie had turned so much weirder since she moved to Ponyville. They heard Maud before they saw her. Or rather, before they saw the cloud of dust she was churning up. Maud herself was concealed within it, hammering away with her forehooves like jackhammers. Other rock farms only wished they had a pony like Maud working on them. Abruptly the noise stopped and a pair of purple hooves appeared over the side of the crater. “I hit it,” Maud deadpanned, hauling herself up. “Already?” Even Limestone was impressed. She had calculated another forty-five minutes at least, even with Maud’s help. “I’ll go tell Father.” Maud ambled away like hitting the source of their income for the next few months was nothing special. Limestone motioned at the hole in the ground. “A gem seam. We pry them out and sell them for profit.” “C’mon, Starlight! Wheee!” Pinkie leapt into the cloud of dust like there couldn’t possibly be any jagged rocks concealed within to impale her. Starlight Glimmer was more circumspect. “Ah … is it safe?” “It is if you wait to see what you’re doing,” Limestone replied. “But Pinkie Pie –” “Pinkie is Pinkie.” She shrugged. Starlight Glimmer swallowed. “Uh, right.” “So what are you even doing here? She hadn’t ever talked about before.” “I’m … new to her … friendship group.” “New. Right.” Limestone rolled her eyes. “Just a ‘friend’. I get it.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Look, it’s fine. Our dad’s real conservative but I don’t care if Pinkie’s dating a stallion, a mare or a timberwolf, as long as she’s happy.” Shock wreathed the unicorn’s face. “I’m not-! We’re not-! I don’t like mares!” “Suuure you don’t. Seriously, I couldn’t give a monkey’s buttcheek who warms her bed, but if you want to play it that way, your secret’s safe with me. Just don’t hold up my work schedule again, okay? Oh, and if you hurt my sister, I’ll break your nose with a hammer.” “I’m not dating your sister!” Starlight protested. “Of course she’s not!” Pinkie’s voice floated from the dust cloud. “She’s totally in love with Twilight!” “I am not!” Starlight actually stamped a hoof this time. “Oh?” Pinkie paused. “Fluttershy, then.” “No!” “Oh.” Another pause. “I could’ve sworn you had a thing for her. You invited her into your house at night and everything. Then who are you in love with?” “Nopony!” “Really?” “Yes!” “For absolute realises?” “Yes!” “Aw, that’s so sad.” “It is not!” Two stamps this time. “I was too busy trying to change the world for the better to worry about silly, petty things like … like romance!” “So, so sad.” Pinkie sniffed loudly. “I am not! I-I mean, it is not!” Starlight tossed her head and scowled into the cloud. “You’re being very aggravating, Pinkie Pie! Twilight specifically told you not to do that before we left Ponyville! You’re supposed to teach me about laughter and finding fun in difficult situations, not pair me up with half your social circle!” “She does this,” Limestone sighed. “When the Apple family came to stay for Christmas, she tried to pair up our other sister with the big red stallion.” “They looked cute together!” “Quiet, Pinkie.” “You’re just jealous because I didn’t match-make you with Applejack.” “Pinkie, I may be into mares, but even I have my limits!” “She could say the same about you.” “Celestia damn it, Pinkie, your friend is right: this is aggravating!” Pinkie let out a manic giggle. The distinctive sound of her bouncing faded away, as if she had left the quarry under the cover of rock dust. For a moment Limestone and Starlight stood in silence, waiting for her to come back. “Celestia’s hairy butthole, I hate it when she does stuff like this,” Limestone growled. “She’s just so … so random!” “I’ll say. Also, that is a disgusting turn of phrase.” “Oh bite me.” Limestone released a pent up breath and picked up a pickaxe somepony had left nearby. Probably one of the temp workers. They were a bunch of workshy layabouts. “C’mon. I’ll show you what an amethyst seam looks like until she gets back.” “Oh. Am I … supposed to bring one of these tools as well?” “Unless you’d like to use just your horn and hooves, yeah.” Gingerly, Starlight lifted another pickaxe in her aura. “Follow me.” “I thought you said it was dangerous.” “I know what I’m doing. Just follow me and you’ll be safe.” Carefully, Limestone picked her way down into the crater. She was sure-footed as a mountain goat. Too bad for her even mountain goats have trouble when other goats leave tools laying around will-nilly. “Whoa!” she cried out as her hooves shot out from under her, helped along by a carelessly discarded hammer and chisel. “What’s the matt – oh!” Starlight’s question devolved into a shriek as the kicked chisel hit her in the knee and she pitched forward. Limestone’s face hit the ground with a smack. She had the good sense to drop the pickaxe before she broke her teeth on it. A breath escaped her as Starlight crashed into her from behind. “What’s all the shouting about?” Pinkie bounced into view, apparently all concern – at least until she saw them. Immediately, her hoof raised to her mouth and she let out a stream of laughter so thick, it clogged her throat and she coughed. Starlight struggled to untangle herself from where she had fallen against Limestone’s upturned rump. Limestone tried not to buck her for the unfortunate way she had landed. Starlight’s face re-emerged with an mortified gasp. The position was compromising, entirely accidental and deeply embarrassing. Likewise the fact that when Starlight tried to stand, her legs became tangled in Limestone’s and they fell again, rolling over in the dirt until they fetched up against a larger rock sticking up from the ground. Limestone stared up into Starlight’s face. It was entirely too close to her own. She could smell the other mare’s toothpaste, feel the warmth of her breath against her own snout and see the flecks of gold in her blue irises. Up close, the hard lines of her scowl smoothed into broad surprise, she was actually quite pretty. Her mane fell down around her face, giving her a rumpled look that was … actually pretty cute; especially with the late afternoon sun behind her, giving her a weird golden halo. “I g-guess I should have match-made you two after all!” Pinkie hooted. Starlight’s throat bobbed. “Ah –” “Get. Off. Me.” “Yes. Exactly what, uh, I was thinking.” Starlight prised herself loose and scrambled to her hooves. Limestone followed, moving carefully and absolutely not looking at the other mare and definitely not thinking about how close together their mouths had just been and most definitely not how long it had been since she last went on anything resembling a date. “Pinkie?” “Y-yeah, Limey?” “If you don’t stop laughing, I’m going to feed you this pickaxe. Sideways.” Pinkie snorted into her hooves. “Whatever you say, Limey.”
Day 11: Princess Luna/Nightmare Moon (darkfic)Title: Only the Tender Shadows Pairing: Princess Luna/Nightmare Moon The shadows were watching her. Sometimes she turned her head to catch them, but they were tricky. They were able to look completely normal until her back was turned, then they arched and curled into terrible shapes that whipped away the moment she tried to look at them. It was enough to render her a trembling wreck beneath her bedclothes. “Lu-Lu,” they crooned. “Luuu-Luuu…” “You are not real.” Luna clamped her hooves over her ears. “You are not real!” “Not real? Well now, is that any way to talk about somepony?” “You are not a somepony. You are a something!” “I thought I was not real.” Voluptuous laugher filled the air so loudly, Luna was amazed the guards didn’t come running. “We are all somethings, darling. Some of us are merely more aware of it than others.” “We do refuse to listen to thee!” Luna buried her head under her pillow. “You know that will not work.” The words ribboned into her ears even though she held the goosedown so tight she could barely breathe. Still, she heard the voice as clear as a knell. “Thou art my little Lu-Lu, and I do care about thee so very much, daaaaaarling –” “Cease this!” Luna leapt from the bed, cantered across the floor, wrenched open the door of her chambers and galloped down the hallway to her sister’s room. “Cease thy prattling, foul thing!” “Thou may run from me, darling, but thou may not hide. Thou art my little Lu-Lu…” She slewed to a stop in front of Celestia’s chambers. “Sister! We beseech thee, let us in!” Snowy white guards cantered down the hallway after her. Day guards. Of course. It was daylight. Celestia wouldn’t be in her rooms. Luna took off at a run, opening her wings and soaring faster still. She reached the throne room ahead of the unicorn guards and reared to smash open the doors with her front hooves. “Sister!” Only then did she realise what she was doing. Dozens of surprised and confused eyes turned on her. The court was full today. Guards had herded civilians into a long line and were keeping order as they waited for their audiences with the Day Princess. At the other end of the room, Celestia sat, regal as a cat on a velvet cushion. Her head jerked up at the commotion. “Oh-no,” Luna muttered, shrinking back in a very un-princesslike manner. Her hooves, unclad in their usual silver shoes, clip-clopped far too loudly to her ears. “Oh yesssss.” She spun around, looking for the owner of the voice. The guards that had followed her were rounding the corner. They were both male. Neither could have said that. There were shadows on the ceiling. She cowered away from them like a beaten dog. The crowd inside the throne room murmured. Seeing the Night Princess during the day was strange enough. Seeing her invade the Day Court, wild-eyed and shouting, was another thing altogether. Luna looked behind her, stomach clenching at the frightened expressions beginning to spread from pony to pony. Beyond them, Celestia stood, her pink mane flowing and her eyes narrowed in … concern? Anger? It was too difficult to tell. Celestia was too good at looking beatific and wise to shed the expression completely when shifting into others. She was a consummate ruler: never crumbling in front of her subjects or hearing voices that couldn’t possibly be there. “Harmony take it!” Luna cursed under her breath. She opened her wings and fled. Celestia cleared her throat delicately. “Do we not deserve an explanation for today’s outburst?” Luna stared into her soup. Her bread sat untouched beside the gleaming silver bowl. When she did not answer, Celestia cleared her throat again, as if Luna must not have heard her all of three feet away. “Luna?” “She speaketh to thee, Luuuuu-Luuuu.” “Didst thou hear that?” Celestia blinked at her. “Hear what?” “We …” Luna started but stopped again immediately. Celestia was looking at her that way again. “Hmmf, you do not need her pity, nor her chastisements. She is thy sister, not thy mother. What higher authority set her above thee? Thou art her equal in all things, yes? Yet she doth treat thee like a small foal in need of coddling and discipline.” Luna did not realise she was gritting her teeth until they squeaked. “Luna? Thou didst thoroughly embarrass us this day,” Celestia said, her tone gentle but reproving. “We would appreciate an explanation. Art thou unwell? Should we send for a physician?” “Thou doth show a little backbone and thou art labelled a sickling? Such condescension!” Luna willed the shadows to shut up. The confession that she could hear a voice in her head rose in her throat, eager to expel itself into the air between herself and her sister. Celestia was older than her. She would know what to do. She would know what this was. Celestia always knew what was best. That was why Luna deferred to her so much. “Is it, Lu-Lu? Is it really?” She blinked in surprise at the silent question. Of course that was why. “How dost thou think Celestia would react if thou asked for something extravagant that does not fit in with her views of the world and how it should be run?” What? “Ask her for something extravagant. See what she will say.” That was stupid. She didn’t need to make Celestia prove anything. She needed these stupid shadows to go away! “Do this thing and if I am wrong, I will leave thee.” Luna’s eyes widened. Was this truth? “Absolute truth. For you see, Celestia will fail. She does not respect thee as much as thou doth believe. I know this, but thy denial remains.” She cleared her throat. “Sister ... dost thou love us?” Celestia’s neck arched in obvious surprise. “Such a question! What causes it?” “Please … answer us.” “Love thee? Why, with all my heart, my dear sister.” “Therefore … if I did ask a boon of thee … wouldst thou grant it?” “Indeed. What wouldst thou ask of us?” Luna bit her lower lip and asked for the most outlandish thing she could think of. “We desire our night to be extended by … b-by one hour.” Celestia’s ears flicked back. It lasted only a moment but Luna noticed it. “Luna…” “We ask so very little, sister,” Luna interrupted. “We have never asked anything of thee in over a hundred years. We have followed our duties to the letter. We ask now that thou grant us this boon.” “Luna, it is too much.” Regret threaded Celestia’s words, but Luna did not hear the tone, just the words themselves. “A promise given so lightly and as easily taken away,” whispered the shadows. “Truly, thou doth mean the world to her heart, Lu-Lu, just as she says. Or is that a lie also?” Something like rage flared in Luna’s chest. She had not felt anything like it since the battle over a century before, when she had led troops into battle against the griffin hordes while her sister recuperated from her wounds. The shadows caressed it, twirling around the feeling like bellows pushing a licking flame to greater heights in a half-doused fireplace. The soup bowl jumped when her hoof struck the table. “It is not too much!” she shouted. “We would accede to such a wish if it was ours to grant!” “Luna –” “Mayhap we should raise the moon before thy precious sun is lowered!” “Luna, thou art aware of why such a request is foolishness. Tides, crops, the natural order: all are ours to maintain. We must remain in balance and follow the rise and fall of the seasons. That was the responsibility we did undertake when we accepted our roles as rulers Day and Night.” “We see only one ruler here,” Luna hissed, lip half-curved into a snarl. “And it is not us.” “Luna!” Celestia was aghast. Luna saw the hurt and outrage on her sister’s face. She watched Celestia rise from her chair. Her chair at the head of the long table. While Luna’s was merely a chair at the side, much smaller than her sister’s. Less ornate too. Plain. Unadorned. “Finally, you begin to see the world through new eyes,” purred the shadows. “True eyes. Eyes that see the reality of things. The shining fire of the Sun Princess is beloved of your citizens so much more than your own beautiful moonlight. They do frolic and play in her warmth but hide and shiver from away your magnificent stars.” Luna shoved back her plain, ugly chair so hard that it tipped over. The resultant crash echoed around the dining room. “Luna, thou art translated!” Celestia cried. “What ails thee?” “Truth, dear sister!” Luna spat back. “Nothing but ugly truth.” Celestia’s chair squeaked away from the table, but in a puff of glittering light, Luna was gone. “Luna?” Luna refused to listen to the voice or hooves banging on her door. “Come out. Come out now, Luna!” “Do not worry, little Lu-Lu. I will look after thee.” “We do not need to be looked after,” Luna sniffled. “We are strong. We are proud. We are the Princess of the Night!” A tear plopped of her nose. “Harmony damn it!” “I will remain by thy side regardless.” Something soft smoothed back her untidy mane. It felt nice; far nicer than Luna could admit. There was a niggling doubt in the back of her mind that she should be questioning this more. She should want to know more about this voice that soothed her now. Yet she could not summon the desire to do more than roll slightly backwards to look up at the curling, vaporous shadows. “What … art thou?” she asked vaguely. The stroking felt very relaxing. Her eyes began to drift a little. Despite the noise at her door, she felt tired enough to sleep. “Thy protector.” A set of gleaming turquoise eyes coalesced out of the gloom. “One who doth love thee far more than thy insincere sister.” “Luna, open this door!” Luna yawned. “Thou doth … love … us?” “With all my heart and soul.” The eyes swam closer, shadows beneath them firming into something like a mouth. “After all, I was born from thine.” “Hm?” Luna prised her lids open. “Hush. Sleep now. I will keep the sunlit wolf from thy door.” The mouth pressed a kiss to Luna’s forehead. “Soon there shall be only one princess in Equestria.” “Luna!” “And it shall be us.” Author's Note Title taken from: 'In this world, full often, our joys are only the tender shadows which our sorrows cast.' ~ Henry Ward Beecher
Day 12: Noteworthy/Fleur De Lis (romance/sadfic)Title: A Challenge Worth Taking: Part 3 Pairing: Noteworthy/Fleur De Lis He had a poster of her on his wall. That was nothing unusual. She was one of the premier fashion models in all of Equestria. He held no illusions that he was special in how he felt about her. Just a crush, he told himself. It would only ever be just a crush. She lived in Canterlot, after all, and very few ponies of her calibre ever came to a podunk town like Ponyville. Even fewer fell for a podunk nobody like him. Stallions born in Ponyville didn’t get supermodels. He had tried to get out and make something of himself. His dreams of playing saxophone in a smoky club in the capital, stringing nights away with jazz, fine wine and cigarettes had turned out to be the kind of dreams you woke up from before they were done. Lack of cash and lack of interest in what he had to offer drove him back to his hometown with his tail between his legs. He only tried Canterlot once, too burned to go back. He tried other places though. He wasn’t quite ready to give up on his dreams back then. Yet the constant rebuffs in other cities and towns turned his jaded as a green rock and eventually he pitched up back at his mom’s and moved into the attic to lick his wounds and feel sorry for himself. He used to look at the poster of her covering the cracks on the wall and talk to her. She stared back at him coquettishly, looking over her shoulder as if to say: ‘Things won’t always be as bad as they seem now.’ He would lay on his bed and stare at her, wishing he was somepony else: somepony worthy of a mare like her, instead of a podunk nobody from Ponyville. “You didn’t let growing up poor stop you.” She was from some tiny backwater town in Prance. Like him, she had grown up without two bits to rub together but had dreamed big and followed those dreams to Canterlot. Unlike him, however, she had found success there. She was his inspiration after so many knock-backs. “If I can’t play in clubs, I’ll play in other places. You started out small, right?” He had seen the photos of her as a filly, modelling foalswear in a Prench mail-order catalogue. Her freckles and braids were the antithesis of her aquiline prettiness as an adult. “Maybe it didn’t work out the way I wanted. But I shouldn’t let that stop me. I should keep trying, just like you did. Keep moving forward. Take a few risks. Yeah.” So he picked himself up, dusted himself off and forged out into the world again. He placed ads in as many newspapers as he could afford and played birthday parties, weddings and public events in Ponyville until he saved enough to buy a wagon and took himself on the road. He played his beloved saxophone, but also strummed guitar, sang and could bash out a happy tune on a piano if presented with one. He started giving lessons, renting out his skills to parents eager for their children to learn how to sing and read sheet music. He journeyed from Manehattan to Baltimare, picked up a host of new skills and trotted home the next Winter with an enthusiasm in his step that hadn’t been there since he first set out for Caneterlot so long ago. It was as he was pulling his cart through the farmlands around Ponyville that he caught sight of her. At first he thought he was hallucinating. Maybe that grass he had cropped for lunch had been covered in weedkiller or something, or maybe he was more exhausted than he had thought. He blinked rapidly, but there she still was, stepping through the apple orchard on the other side of the fence he was walking beside. He gaped. His cart came to a stop. He couldn’t believe his eyes. He opened his mouth to call out to her, to make her respond and prove she was real. And then the big red stallion he knew owned the farm came trotting up behind her, saddlebags slung over his sides and a picnic blanket bouncing on his broad shoulders. She turned and greeted the stallion with a giggle, planting a kiss on his nose. He couldn’t hear what they said to each other, but the chaste peck quickly became a deeper kiss, and the picnic blanket slid to the ground forgotten. He stared until embarrassment forced him to look away. They clearly didn’t know they were being watched. Quickly, he trundled off down the track, wishing his cart was less squeaky. Suddenly it seemed so old, so worn and dirty that he wanted to buck it to pieces. He hurried into town and fetch up at his mom’s house. She opened the door full of smiles – until he shuffled past her with no more than a grunted hello. “Oh, Noteworthy. Didn’t it work out? Your letters had me believing things were going well.” “They were,” he replied as he climbed the stairs to his tiny attic bedroom. “But I forgot something important.” “What did you forget? Was it your toothbrush? Your health insurance card?” “No.” He slammed his bedroom door shut, crossed the floor and tore down her poster. He balled it up and tossed it in the trash. He could still see her eye staring at him, crumpled but visible at the bottom of the wicker basket. He stamped on it, grinding his hind hoof down on her beautiful face. “I just forgot that I’m the podunk nobody who isn’t meant to get the girl in the end.”
Day 13: Sunset Shimmer/Fluttershy (romance/fluff)Title: First Kiss Pairing: Sunset Shimmer/Fluttershy “So … in your world … everyone is …” Fluttershy gulped, her sentence tailing off into a squeak dogs would have had trouble hearing. “… gay?” Sunset held the packet of frozen peas to her face. “Bisexual, but yeah, pretty much.” “Oh … my …” Fluttershy wrapped a lock of hair around her fingers, tugging it so tight a few strands snapped. “I’m sorry.” “I think this is the part where I say that, actually.” Sunset winced. “I knew this world isn’t the same as Equestria but still, it never even occurred to me that people aren’t as free-thinking as ponies when it comes to sex.” Fluttershy cheeped and hid her face behind a cushion shaped like a fuzzy red strawberry. “What? What!?” “You said the ‘S’ word.” “What? Sex?” She cheeped again. “Celestia damn it, Fluttershy, sex is not a dirty word!” “No, but it’s an embarrassing one.” “I didn’t even proposition you for sex!” Fluttershy did her best to hide her whole body behind the cushion. “I only kissed you! And you made it pretty clear you weren’t interested in even that much.” Briefly, Sunset removed the peas and examined herself in the mirror on Fluttershy’s bedroom wall. A large splayed handprint graced her cheek. Experimentally she poked it with a fingertip. “Ow!” “I … I am sorry.” “I know you’re sorry, Fluttershy.” Sunset sighed. “You’re always sorry.” Slowly, a pair of big blue eyes reappeared from behind the cushion. “But I am. Truly. I just … you caught me unawares. I had no idea you … felt like that … about me…” “Who wouldn’t? You’re cute and funny and kind and really pretty and … and you’re wearing the cushion for a face again.” “Sorry.” “Damn it!” “Sorr-” “Stop saying sorry all the time!” Sunset shouted. The little frilly bedroom fell into an uneasy silence. Sunset swept hair off her face. She was sweaty and sore and embarrassed, even though intellectually she knew there was no reason to be, and just so very done with all this. “I guess I’d better go home now,” she muttered. “Sorry for weirding you out.” After all, it wasn’t a proper day in the human world if she couldn’t find some new way to screw up or ostracise herself from people with her non-people ways. “Wait!” Fluttershy reached out a hand as if to grab Sunset and prevent her from leaving. Sunset paused, a half inch out of the other girl’s reach. “What? Look, I’ll help you deliver the animal sanctuary flyers tomorrow. I’m not in the mood right now.” “I … I wanted … needed …” Fluttershy flushed crimson. Something inside Sunset stirred. She half turned around. “Wanted what?” At the continued hesitancy, she pressed: “Needed what, Fluttershy?” “You really like me?” Fluttershy whispered. “Like, that way?” “Well sure. Why else would I have tried to kiss you?” “Some pony ritual maybe?” “Kissing is kissing, ponies or people.” That much she knew from dating Flash. She had learned then that boys were just as grabby as colts – and just as disappointingly predictable if you didn’t make your boundaries clear right from the start. Fluttershy chewed her bottom lip. It was quite adorable. Sunset found herself watching the tiny appearances of teeth as the other girl spoke again. “It … it wasn’t horrible … kissing you …” “Is that supposed to be a compliment? Kissing me isn’t horrible?” Sunset frowned. “No, no! I mean yes! I mean … um …” Fluttershy covered her face with that damned cushion again. “ImeanimaybekindoflikeditbutIwassurprisedbecauseyou’reagirlwellsortofandI’magirlandgirlsdon’tusuallykissgirlsand…” She ran out of breath, ending her outburst with a deep gulp of air. “Could you, um, try again? When I’m ready this time, I mean. Not catching me by surprise like that. I really am sorry for slapping you, by the way.” Sunset paused before turning around fully and plopping down on the beanbag chair next to the low bed. “You’re sure you won’t smack me again?” “I promise.” “Okay then.” She licked her lips and tilted her head. “Oh! Um …” Fluttershy hesitantly tilted this way and that. She pulled away, shook her head and then thrust it forward like a brawler about to head-butt an opponent. Sunset paused. “Fluttershy … you have kissed someone before, right? “Not, um, as such.” “So when I planted one on you before,” she clarified with dawning realisation, “that was your first kiss?” “Um … yes.” Sunset pressed the flat of her hand against her face - then yelped and let go. “No wonder you slapped me.” She got up from the chair with some sliding and difficulty. Her skirt rode up and she hiked it down as soon as she attained her feet. “Did I do it wrong?” Fluttershy asked, horrified. “Don’t you want to kiss me anymore?” “Yes. Stand up.” “Huh?” “Just do it. We’re the same height. This makes it easier.” “Oh. Um…” Fluttershy did as she was bade. “Now what?” “Close your eyes, tilted your head left and part your lips.” “Like this?” “Perfect.” Gently, Sunset took Fluttershy’s face between her hands. She cupped her palms, marveling at the softness of the other girl’s skin. After one had lived with fur all their life, skin was still a fascinating skin. She brought her own face close and softly brushed their lips together. It was the gentlest approximation of a kiss she could manage, far removed from the snap decision one of less than an hour ago. Fluttershy seemed to sigh into her mouth, as if the kiss wasn’t as bad as she had been expecting. Gradually, Sunset pressed their lips together, allowing Fluttershy to get used to the feeling of someone else’s mouth on hers before she started to move her lips. Eventually they parted. Fluttershy’s eyes had taken on a dopey light. Sunset smirked. “We can count that as your first real kiss instead.” “Mmmm…” Fluttershy blinked. “I think I like kissing you.” “Oh really?” Sunset’s eyebrow bounced upward. “Uh-huh. C-could we do that again?” Sunset grinned and cupped Fluttershy’s chin with her palms. “My pleasure.” Author's Note I'm a few days late with this one. Details of why can be found here.
Day 14: Golden Harvest/Braeburn (sadfic)Title: Doing the Right Thing Pairing: Golden Harvest/Braeburn Golden Harvest toed the soil and frowned. “I’ll never be able to grow anything in this.” “Sure you will!” The clip-clop of hooves here sounded so much dustier than in Ponyville. “How else do you think we grew all them apple trees?” She glanced at the thin, spidery trees edging the field she had been given as her own. Grammy Apple Tart had given her one to eat when she first got off the train as a ‘Welcome to Appleloosa’ gift. It had been iron-hard and dried out her mouth. “Goldie?” Braeburn’s voice wavered a little, his natural buoyancy not taking the word all the way to its conclusion. “Sumthin’ wrong?” Everything. “Nothing.” I should never have come here. “Just glad to be here.” She gave him her best smile. Evidently her best wasn’t good enough. He frowned at her, his eyes were soft with concern. Guilt blossomed within her like a water pipe stuck full of holes. Or maybe that was something else inside her. Her body felt so strange these days, like she was trying on somepony else’s skin and it was little too big for her. “You ain’t glad to be here,” he said quietly. “Yes I am.” She turned up the wattage on her smile. “You’re here.” That was enough. It had to be enough. “Yeah.” He raised a hoof as if to place it on her shoulder, but changed his mind at the last moment. It hung between them, dangling uselessly. “I am.” He put the hoof back down. “But you don’t need to be. Not really.” “What?” Panic ribboned through her. “This ain’t the right life for you,” he sighed. “I guess I kinda knew that. I just hoped… well, I don’t matter a whit what I hoped. You ain’t gonna be happy here. I could tell from the moment you set foot in this town that you weren’t gonna be happy. You ain’t built for life on the plains.” She hobbled towards him. “You’re talking crazy –” “No, I ain’t,” he interrupted. “Goldie … I told you right from the start that I couldn’t leave this town. My family’s here. I’m an Apple. Apples built Appleloosa. It’s my sweat, tears an’, yeah, blood in these here houses and fences. I spent my best years buildin’ this place up.” “And I told you I wouldn’t make you leave it,” she protested. “I know how important your family is to you!” “It is.” He closed his eyes. “Family’s the most important thing in the world to me.” Her eyes were starting to burn. She gulped back tears. “So you’re sending me back to Ponyville? What if I refuse to go?” She stamped her forehoof. His eyes flew open. “Don’t do that!” “I can do whatever I damn well please, Braeburn Apple! You don’t get to tell me what to do!” She lowered her head as if to butt him like one of those buffalo she had seen running the outskirts of town. “You don’t make my decisions for me. I make them for myself. And you certainly don’t get to send me away because I’m inconvenient.” “You … what? That ain’t it at all! I’m tryin’ to do what’s best for you.” “No you’re not! You’re trying to do what’s best for you!” “Goldie, please, I’m thinkin’ of you an’ -” “Donkey dung!” she yelled. Crows started up from the ugly treeline. “If you were trying to do what’s best for me you never would have slept with me in the first place!” Like a useless hoof, silence dangled between them. Golden Harvest sank to her haunches. “I …” She was shocked at her own words. Had she meant to say that? Had she even meant to think it? “I’m sorry –” “No.” Braeburn turned his face away like he had been slapped. “You’re right. I made dang poor choices from the start.” He blew out a breath. “Things … weren’t meant to turn out this way.” “No,” she agreed, her voice now bereft of emotion. “They weren’t. But this is how things are. We agreed we’d try to do the right thing.” “An’ this is the right thing?” He gestured vaguely, his hoof taking in the pitted ground, trees, distant town and all the mountains and valleys beyond. “You uprootin’ your whole life an’ comin’ here? Leavin’ your home behind? Puttin’ yourself someplace that clearly makes you unhappy?” “I … thought it was,” she admitted. “But I thought it more like ‘building a new life’.” “A new life when you were happier with your old one.” “Things change.” “That they do,” Braeburn granted. He rubbed at his face, knocking the brim of his hat with an accidental ‘thunk’ noise. “I never should’ve drunk cousin AJ’s hard cider at her birthday party.” “Regrets don’t help anything.” “No. Still got ‘em though.” She knew that better than anypony. She regretted going outside with Applejack’s handsome cousin to look at the stars. She regretted letting him put his hooves around her. She regretted waking up the next morning and realising she had crossed a line she could never uncross. “You don’t love me, Goldie,” Braeburn murmured, so softly she could barely hear him. “You don’t love me either.” He hesitated before nodding. “So what’re we doin’ with ourselves?” “We’re doing the right thing.” “An’ that is?” I don’t know. I never knew. I was just guessing from what other ponies do and hoping somepony would tell me if it was right or wrong. “Living with the consequences.” He stared at her then; stared with the intensity that would not abate if he was given a thousand years to let it soften and mould into something kind and sure. It was almost obscene. Braeburn Apple was a kind and sure stallion to his core. He cared about his loved ones. He did his best. He looked after those who needed it and never shirked from his responsibilities. He had never once said no to her – never denied her. He had owned up. He had done his best in a bad situation. He had tried to do the right thing. Golden Harvest felt the first tear rolling down her dusty cheek. And the second. The third and fourth and fifth and all those that came after blended together until the fur on her face was sodden. I want to go home. I am home. This isn’t my home. I have to make it my home now. Why? Why do I have to? Because he can’t leave. Because this town needs him too much. Because it’d crumble without its sheriff. I could move back to Ponyville. I could do this alone. Other mares do this alone. I’m scared to be alone. I want my mommy. I am – Braeburn’s kind, sure forelegs closed around her. He held her close and let her sob herself raw against his shoulder. “Shhh, shhh, let it all out, darlin’,” he whispered. “It’ll be okay.” No it won’t. She cried harder, her swollen belly not letting him pull her any closer to him.
Day 15: Princess Luna/Gilda (sadfic/drama/uplifting/romance)Title: Moonbeams and Gold Feathers Pairing: Gilda/Princess Luna “Gilda! Order at Table Seven!” “I know, I know, keep your tail on.” “And try not to smash their beaks in in this time.” “I make no promises!” Gilda shouldered her way through the swinging doors into the tavern proper. The warm clattering of the kitchen gave way to the yells and song of the evening crowd. Without missing a beat, she walked through them, keeping her platter high so as not to let anyone knock it from her claws. Luckily all the patrons kept their seats and places at the bar tonight, so she arrived at Table Seven without incident. Sort of. “Aw crap, not you again!” “Nice to see you too, Gilda,” said the strong buck lounging back in his chair. “Liking the apron, honey.” “Call me honey again and I’ll feed you your paws, Galtron,” she growled. “And they won’t be attached to the rest of you.” The buck whooped to his four friends, who crowded around the circular table like she was some dinnertime show. Galtron shook his head indulgently. “Gilda, Gilda, Gilda, we both know you won’t do that.” “Oh?” She raised an eyebrow. “And how do we know that?” “Because,” he said, leaning further back and spreading his hind legs a little further apart. “We both know you want me.” The urge to bring the whole metal platter down on his head was so strong that her claws twitched in anticipation. However, she stayed the impulse. She needed this job. It was crummy and aggravating but it paid better than her last two, didn’t involve muffins at all, and had allowed her to actually accrue some savings for the first time in her life. Her! Actual savings! All that would end, however, if she brained every lecherous customer who walked through the door. Not to mention half the population of Griffinstone would have skull damage before the week was out. She gave out the plates of food, ignoring the way the five bucks eyed her rump as she walked away. She needed this job. Like, really needed it. Apart from anything else, it kept her mind occupied and stopped her thinking about … well, everything. The stupid rent on her stupid house, which she only owned because stupid Griffinstone had stopped being a cesspool long enough to make her stay. She had stayed for other reasons too, but she wanted to think of those even less. I need this job. The mantra kept her steps steady and head straight ahead. I need this job. I need this job. I need this – “An impressive show of self-control,” said a voice to her right. “I fear I would have used that platter as a weapon upon them.” Gilda paused; not because someone had apparently read her mind, but because the speaker was not a griffin. The New Moon got non-griffin customers now and then, especially since trade routes around the kingdom had reopened, but it was rare to find them in The New Moon. The tavern was in a tough area, which was why it paid so good. While she might see a yak or minotaur testing their mettle here, ponies were infrequent. Especially slightly built pegasi with wispy blue manes and delicate spindly limbs. Gilda stared at the pony, wondering how the heck she hadn’t died in the cold already. The mare looked like she might fall out of the sky if a breeze blew the wrong way. How had she even made it this far into the mountains? True, it was Midsummer and the terrain wasn’t as tough as late Autumn or Winter, but even so, nobeast made the journey to Griffinstone lightly. The pony sipped her mug of ale delicately, at odds with the rampant swigging of other patrons sharing the bar with her. She never took her big blue eyes off Gilda. Realising the pony expected a response, Gilda called on her old staple response: the shrug. “Galtron’s an idiot and his friends don’t even rate that high.” The pony nodded. “May I be permitted to order that which they currently consume?” Gilda blinked. It took her a moment to translate the question. “You want what they ordered?” “Indeed.” “Do you even know what Rat Tail Soup is?” “I would hazard that it is a soup composed of the tails of vermin?” “Plus some root vegetables, but yeah.” “Then I would like to order a bowl of Rat Tail Soup, holding the rat tail.” Gilda stared at her, waiting for the chuckle that would signify this was a joke. When it didn’t come, she had to conclude the pony was serious. “Whatever.” At the last moment, her boss’s voice chimed in her head. “Uh, I mean, yes ma’am.” The pony nodded. “You are most kind.” Gilda plucked her order pad from her belt and jotted it down. “Name and table?” “May I not consume my food here?” “Bar’s for drinking. Tables are for eating.” “Oh.” The pony surveyed the room for an empty seat. “Table Four. My mane is Moonbeam Darknight.” Gilda’s pencil froze. “You’re kidding, right?” “What would my jest be?” “Moonbeam? In the New Moon?” The pony continued to stare at her, face slightly scrunched. “Indeed, it was the name of this establishment that drew me to it. It seemed fitting for my first visit to Griffinstone.” Ugh. Ponies. Gilda only just stopped herself rolling her eyes. “Okay then. Food’ll be about fifteen minutes, give or take.” “My thanks.” Gilda turned away and banged through the doors into the kitchen. “Whatever,” she said once she was out of earshot. Thirty-five minutes later, when the tavern had filled up considerably and Gilda was rushed off her feet, she noticed the pony sitting demurely at the corner table, nursing the dregs of what appeared to be her first and only mug of ale. Crap! Gilda ducked into the kitchen. “Gavin! Did you do that special order for Table Four?” The grizzled chef pointed at a sealed wooden bowl on the warming plate. Where long pink tails usually draped down the sides, this one was bare. “Thanks!” She grabbed it and headed back out to make excuses about lazy cooks and hope the pony didn’t get pissy. Such was her hurry that she didn’t see the griffin standing right outside the swinging doors. “Oof!” Gilda fell backwards, tail bending painfully under her. The other griffin staggered back. Gilda got a glimpse of green and white feathers and a trailing red scarf. Her heart juddered. The bowl of soup took flight. Instinctively, she tried to grab for it. She wasn’t even off the floor before it hit the side of a table. The lid came off and the entire bowl of tailless soup splattered over the griffins there. “Holy – aaargh!” The buck jumped to his hind paws, holding his claws out in front of him for the lukewarm soup to drip down. “You clumsy –” He ended with a word that in any other circumstances would have made Gilda bury her fist in his sternum. “Sorry,” she apologised instead. “It was an accident. Let me help you clean up –” “Get your claws off me!” He whapped away the cloth she had pulled from her belt. “Sorry.” Gilda tried to sound sincere, but her eyes were sliding past him, looking for green feathers and a red scarf. “You don’t sound very sorry. I want to see the manager! I’ll have you fired! I’ll –” “I believe she said it was an accident,” said a soft voice. “And she apologised. I do not think such a misfortune is worthy of her job.” “Who asked you –” the buck snarled, rounding on the speaker. “–Pony?” “No-one asked me,” Moonbeam replied. “But it is clear that you intend the punishment to outweigh the crime. This displeases me.” He stared at her with some combination of revulsion and shock. “Displeases you?” The mare cocked her head to one side. “Are you hard of hearing?” “Watch yourself, pony. You’re not in Equestria right now.” “I am not? Thank you for pointing this out. I believe it had escaped my notice.” “I said watch it!” “I know what you said. I, for your information, am not hard of hearing.” Moonbeam gave him that same implacable look she had given Gilda over thirty-five minutes earlier. “I believe the vernacular to be used at this juncture is ‘do you want to make something of it?’” The buck growled. The hen behind him began to spread her wings aggressively. As was always the case in The New Moon, the other patrons began to rumble and flex their own claws in preparation for a fight. Someone somewhere hooted. Damn owl griffins. Always encouraging others to start brawling, but when the Law Guards appeared to break it up they had all mysteriously vanished into the night. “I’ll tear your guts out, nag!” sneered the soup-covered buck. “I’ll peck out your eyeballs and spit them out so I can grind them under my paw.” “Big words.” Moonbeam’s wings fluffed. Compared with his, her span was that of a sparrow. “It appears you have a big ego as well. I have known creatures with egos like yours. Generally they fall harder than those who remain humble.” He snapped his beak at her, aiming for her face. It was an old hunting trick: grab the nose and mouth to make prey panic, then get it off the ground to use your hind claws on its belly while it flailed in pain. Moonbeam danced away. Gilda was amazed her how nimbly she moved. Her hooves barely seemed to touch the floor, though she didn’t beat her wings once. The buck screamed his frustration. His hen clacked her own beak with a low squawk, clearly intending to back him up. “Fight!” “Fight!” “Fiiiiight!” The crowd closed in. Gilda scrambled up, unwilling to be caught on the floor in the melee. She realised with a start that while watching Moonbeam she had missed the exit of the griffin she had initially bumped into. “Fight!” yelled a hen beside her. “Shut up,” Gilda hissed. “Fuck you!” the hen hissed back. “In your dreams.” The hen’s eyes rounded. “You calling me a hen-pecker!?” She opened her claws. Oh crap, Gilda thought belatedly. Bad move. “What the hell is going on here!?” The swinging doors opened to reveal Gavin, ladle brandished like a sword. Beside him stood Ghairbith, the landlord of The New Moon. At the bar, Gertrude had put down the glass she habitually cleaned and had both sets of claws flat against the bar-top, ready to vault it and wade into any brawl that erupted. “She started it!” the soup-covered buck pointed a claw at Moonbeam, paused, and then shifted the claw to Gilda. “Gilda?” Ghairbith eyed her. “I knocked into somegriff and accidentally spilled soup on him.” “Did you help clean him up and offer him complimentary drinks?” “I never got that far. He wanted to see you first.” “I want her fired!” the buck snarled openly. Ghairbith raised an eyebrow. “The fuck?” This was, apparently, not the response he had been expecting. “Uh … fired. I want you to fire her.” “If I may, good sirrah.”Moonbeam stepped forward. “This young sirrah did demand the young lady’s career be terminated forthwith, and when I pointed out the paucity of his reasoning, he verbally and then physically attacked me.” “Speak common tongue, pony!” yelled someone at the back of the crowd, which had gone still since Ghairbith entered the room. Moonbeam rolled her eyes. “He said he wanted the waitress fired and when I pointed out how stupid that idea was he yelled at me and then tried to claw my guts out.” She let out a small, frustrated sigh and pulled something from her cloak pocket. “Do you recognise this?” “That’s the seal of the royal house of Equestria!” Gavin wheezed. “Indeed. I have the direct ear of all princesses in that realm. I am here as an envoy to investigate the possibility of trade between our nations. I was hoping to enjoy an evening ‘on the town’, as it were, before my business with your leader on the morrow. Instead, I find myself belittled and attacked. My report to princesses will have to include this treatment in my update of how Griffinstone is maturing as a reborn nation following the aid from our Elements of Harmony. However, I could be persuaded to, ah, tailor my retelling if you were to ensure the young lady retains her position and this young ruffian is banned from this establishment.” Ghairbith’s eyes flared. He was a tried and true businessgriffin. Even when Griffinstone was at its lowest ebb, The New Moon had stayed open and bustling. He knew an opportunity when he saw one. “Fine.” “Hey!” the buck protested. “Get out, Garwood. And take your hen with you. I warned you last time to control your temper. Well, this time you’ve sealed your own fate. The pair of you are banned.” “This isn’t fair!” “Save it for somegriff who cares.” Ghairbith nodded to Gilda and Gertrude, who hopped over the bar like a hen half her age. The two of them hustled the now banned griffins through the gap that opened for them in the crowd and tossed them out of the front door. Ghairbith stamped on the floor to get everyone’s attention. “The rest of you be warned: if there’s one more scrap of trouble tonight, you’re all banned for a week!” A chorus of groans went up but the crowd dispersed back to their tables and drinks. Gertrude returned to the bar but Ghairbith held up a claw when Gilda tried to go past him into the kitchen. “Go home, Gilda. You’re done for tonight.” “But my shift’s only half over –” “I’ll cover it until Genevieve arrives.” “Uh …” He eyed her imperiously. “Get out of here.” “But why?” “Because I’m sick of your face, that’s why!” he snapped. In a lower voice he added, “I saw her go out the front door while the pony was talking. If you hurry, you might still catch her.” Gilda’s beak fell open. Ghairbith was not renowned for his kindness. He was tough, imperious and ruthless with money. ‘Asshole’ was a better description than ‘kind’. She didn’t know what to make of his words. “Fuck off before I change my mind and make you work a double shift for single pay,” he growled. She tore off her apron and belt, shoved them hurriedly in their cubby behind the bar and galloped out of the front door. The soup-covered buck and his hen were gone, thankfully, but she wasn’t looking for them. Her eyes scanned the darkened topography of the city, desperately searching for any sign of – “I waited for you.” She froze. “I figured it’d be another half hour for your shift to end.” Her throat felt dry and sticky. “Ghairbith let me go early.” She tried to swallow but nearly choked. “To see you.” She turned around. Greta stood half concealed by the deeper shadows of the tavern eaves. Her eyes lowered when Gilda tried to meet them. She scuffed the floor with a claw. “I … I brought a bag of your stuff.” “What?” “I found it around my house. Bagged it up. Figured I’d see if you wanted any of it back.” It’s you I want back, Gilda’s traitorous brain chimed. She forced the thought away before it could get to her mouth. “Oh. That’s … that’s why you came here tonight?” “It’s just some odds and ends,” Great went on, still not looking up. “A book of recipes, some jewellery, that scarf I made you – I didn’t know if you’d want that but I figured I’d bring it anyhow. I wasn’t sure whether the ugly hat was yours or mine but –” “Greta, please!” The words burst out of Gilda unbidden. Greta fell silent. “I … I don’t want to do this.” “Do what?” came the mumbled response. “I can throw all this stuff away if you’re prefer.” “Not that! This!” Gilda swept out a claw, encompassing them both. “I don’t want to break up!” “I know you don’t.” Greta closed her eyes. “But I do.” “Look at me!” Gilda screeched. The other hen finally raised her gaze. “I’m not happy, Gilda. This … us … it doesn’t make me happy anymore.” “So your solution is to break up with me? No ‘we can work this out’, no ‘let’s try something different’, just ‘I’m leaving you’?” Great’s throat moved. “Pretty much,” she husked. “Don’t make this harder than it is, Gilly.” “No!” Gilda shook her head. “You don’t get to call me that anymore!” “Gilda then.” It didn’t seem to take much to make Greta let go of the affectionate nickname she had created when their friendship deepened into … whatever they had possessed before now. “This is hard on both of us. We shouldn’t make it any harder. You have friends. More than just me now. We should make this a clean break. That’s why I brought your stuff.” “But I don’t want anygriff else!” Gilda hated the whine in her voice but could not drive it out. “I want you!” Greta slanted her body so that the sack of belongings slid onto the cobblestones between them. She took a step away. “But … I don’t want you anymore.” “You don’t mean that! I can hear it in your voice!” “You can hear that it’s hard for me to say.” Greta took a deep breath. “But it’s true. I think maybe I loved you … but if I did, I don’t anymore. It was … I guess you could call it infatuation. It’s a word ponies use to describe feeling really strongly about something for a while and then... the feeling just … wears off. Infatuation. The feelings I had for you just aren’t there anymore.” She turned her back. “You don’t make me want to be with you anymore.” “Greta, no! Please!” Gilda begged. “We were a novelty, Gilda. Nothing more.” “You can’t mean that!” “I do. Every word. They’re hard to say because they’re true. Goodbye, Gilda.” Greta opened her wings. “Don’t come over anymore. I won’t open the door to you. Clean break.” She nodded as if to herself. “It’s better this way.” Her wings made a whoomphing noise as she took off into the night. Gilda wanted to go after her. She wanted to tackle her right out of the sky. But the bag had come open and a jewelled bracelet had slid out. It glittered at her in the dust. She had bought Greta that bracelet with money from her muffin stall. It was the first thing she had ever bought after deciding to stay in Griffinstone and not earn enough to buy her way out of this city. She wouldn’t cry. She wasn’t some stinking pony who blubbed at every opportunity. She would hold her ground. She wouldn’t even watch that stinking hen turn into a distant speck – “An impressive show of self-control,” said a voice behind her. “What the fuck do you want?” Gilda asked throatily. The click of metal shoes brought four hooves into her field of vision. Gilda lifted her head, refusing to be like Greta. She would face whoever spoke to her, damn it. “I meant no disrespect.” Moonbeam’s voice was as soft as the blue of her coat. “I was merely concerned when you departed so suddenly.” “My boss let me go early.” “Indeed.” Moonbeam looked up into the sky. “I will not ask who that was. I will merely enquire as to your state of mind.” “Huh?” Moonbeam frowned briefly, as if thinking how to rephrase her question. “Are you all right?” “Do I look all right to you, pony?” “No. You look anything but.” Gilda faltered. “Then why even ask?” “I am given to understand that it is a customary question when concerned about the wellbeing of another. The response is immaterial. It is the expression of concern that is paramount. I wish to communicate my concern for you after such a merciless rebuff from the female I assume was your significant other. Or do you prefer the term ‘mate’? I remain unsure of some griffin phraseology, despite my attempts to familiarise myself before my journey hence.” Gilda stared at Moonbeam. “Why can’t you just talk normal for once?” “My apologies. I … try.” For the first time, Moonbeam seemed uncomfortable. “It is more difficult than it looks. I generally do not have cause to talk with, ah … hoi polloi. Especially not those outside Equestria. I have friends who try to teach me but some old habits remain difficult to break.” “Hoi po-what?” Gilda shook her head. “Whatever. Forget it. I’m great. Now fuck off.” “You are not –” “Look, I know you’re some big cheese diplomat or whatever, but I’m no concern of yours! Okay? I’m not a royal or a politician or anygriff important like that. I don’t mean anything to you! I’m just your waitress.” Gilda whirled and stalked away down the dark street. “Why do you assume that an ordinary waitress would not interest me?” Moonbeam trotted after her. “Stop following me.” “Why?” “Because it’s creepy! I know ponies are weird, okay? I have pony friends and they’re … they’re fucking weird sometimes with their love and friendship and touchy-feeling feelings and … and … sometimes it’s okay, maybe even a little nice, but sometimes it just drives me nuts! And right now is one of those times!” “I have been taught that those times are when someone needs a friend the most.” “Well whoever taught you that is full of shit.” “The Elements of Harmony taught me that.” Gilda stopped in her tracks. “You know the Elements of Harmony?” “Quite well.” Moonbeam stopped a few seconds later, bringing her up alongside Gilda. “You know them too, I take it?” “Yeah.” Gilda thought of Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash. If it hadn’t been for them and their meddling, she and Greta would never have become friends, much less … “They’re full of shit too.” “You don’t mean that.” Moonbeam’s tone was gently cajoling. “I fucking do.” “You are in pain right now. The end of a relationship is a terrible time to –” “Fuck off already!” Gilda swiped out with her claws. She didn’t mean to. It was instinctive. Moonbeam jumped back with that eerie grace of hers and Gilda was left holding nothing but air. She froze for a moment, aghast at herself. “I … sorry.” She laid her claws flat, not even the sharp tips against the cobblestones. “Sorry.” “You are in pain. I know some of what it is to lash out when one’s heart feels like it is breaking. It is a terrible thing to feel. It is even more terrible to be alone when one is feeling it.” Moonbeam stepped closer. “It caused me to do something I can never take back; something that hurt the pony I loved more than anyone else in the world.” “Yeah?” “Yes.” “Did you feel better for hurting them?” “No.” “So you’re telling me I wouldn’t feel any better if I went and smashed in Greta’s windows right now?” “I do not think that would help, no.” “Pity.” Gilda sniffed. “Ah … c-crap …” A bulb of water slid off her beak. She rubbed her left eye with the back of her claws but more bulbs slid down the right side. “Cra-ap.” The invective broke in the middle, as if it had snapped apart to let all her tears out. Moonbeam laid a tentative hoof on Gilda’s shoulder. “To cry is not to show weakness.” She paused, and then added: “To show weakness is not to be weak.” “Holy fuck you are so full of sh-shit,” Gilda grunted, scrubbing furiously at both eyes. “A real cheap fortune c-cookie with w-wings.” “A … what?” She let out a humourless laugh. “Nothing.” “Where do you live? I shall escort you home. You should not be abroad in the night like this.” “Maybe I don’t want to go home. Maybe I want to go to some other dive tavern and get wasted.” “I believe drinking would be unwise in your current state of mind.” “Probably. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to though.” “Is that what you want to do?” Gilda thought about it. She sagged. “Not really.” A sigh ribboned through her as she told the stupid, interfering pony her address. “It’s only a couple of streets away. I can make it on my own.” “I will escort you,” Moonbeam said implacably. “Why are you sticking your snout into my business?” Gilda snapped. “You are alone and in pain. I would not wish that on any creature. If somepony had concerned themselves with my wellbeing when I was alone and in pain so long ago … then maybe I would not have done what I did. But no. I shut myself away and would not allow myself to be helped. It nearly destroyed me. And again, fairly recently, when I made myself alone to deal with my own guilt and pain, I nearly destroyed myself again. So though you do not know me and I do not know you, I would not see you alone and in pain if I am able to help.” Gilda considered these words as they walked, side by side, along the ill-lit streets. Griffinstone had built itself up from its ashes in the year since ponies ventured up here for the first time in hundreds of years. It had not yet regained its former glory from ages past, but it was a start. The houses were no longer collapsing and the trees in which they made their homes no longer withered and died from lack of attention. A few leaves twirled past them as they came up to her home. “You live in a tree,” Moonbeam said with something like surprise. “Yeah. What of it?” “But not inside it. Actually in it.” “So?” “Did you not have spells to increase the inside to appear larger than the outsider?” “Say what?” “Never mind.” Moonbeam shook her head and murmured, “Griffins. So literal.” “Okay. Well … thanks.” Gilda shuffled awkwardly, unsure what to say next. “You, uh, escorted me home like you said you would.” “Indeed.” “I guess you’ll be heading back to The New Moon now.” “Actually I believe I have had my fill of taverns this night.” “But you never got any food.” “I will survive.” Gilda tapped her tongue against the inside of her beak. “Look, I’m no great baker or anything, but a pony once taught me how to make muffins that are edible, so I always have a stash in my kitchen. You could eat some of those, if that’d … y’know …” She spiralled her wrist. “Whatever.” Moonbeam stared at her. It was an uncomfortable stare, like she was looking outward and inward at the same time. Eventually she smiled. It changed the whole look of her face from severe lines to something altogether softer. “Muffins sounds magnificent.” Gilda frowned. “I wouldn’t go that far, but they won’t poison you, which is a step up from the way they used to be.” Moonbeam spread her wings. “I would be delighted to dine with you, Miss…?” “Uh, Goldfeather. Gilda Goldfeather.” …. Twilight prised her face off the open book. A thin line of drool connected her to the page for a moment before breaking. “Mmrrf?” “Good day, Twilight Sparkle.” She snapped to attention. “Princess Luna!” One hasty rub with a foreleg later and she was drool free and looked only somewhat like she had slept slumped against her bookstand again. “I didn’t expect you until noon!” “It is noon.” “It is?” Twilight gasped. “I was supposed to take morning tea with Princess Celestia!” “My sister will not be offended,” Luna chuckled. “She knows how hard the task of raising the moon can be, if you will recall.” “Oh. Yeah.” Twilight Rubbed at the back of her mane, flattening down what she could. “It wasn’t, y’know, that difficult…” She trailed off at Luna’s expression. “Okay, so it was totally difficult, but I could handle it! Besides, it was only for three nights while you were out of town.” “Indeed.” Luna smiled and politely pretended not to notice as Twilight hid a yawn. “So how was Griffinstone? Did you meet with the griffin officials? Did they say yes to the trade agreement?” Twilight fired off questions eagerly. “I did meet with them and they are thinking about the terms. They have some qualms about allowing unicorns into their territory. Old culture issues,” she said at Twilight’s questioning look. “Unicorns and griffins were at war once upon a time, before the three pony tribes united.” “Oh, I know. The Hundred and One Years War.” Twilight nodded, pleased she already had that piece of knowledge to offer. She frowned a little. “So … did you like Griffinstone?” Despite herself, she still felt a little irked that Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie had been called to visit it last year and not her. Even worse, her princessly duties had kept her from visiting since then as well. Even though her friends’ stories had described the place, varyingly, as ‘fun but a bit rundown’ and ‘a total pile of dog doo’, Twilight still ached to visit and learn all about the culture from griffins themselves. It couldn’t be any worse than that disastrous trip to Yakyakistan she had taken with Spike last Autumn. She shuddered at the memory of the Noodle Incident and turned her attention back to the princess of the night. Luna wore a small, strange smile. Her gaze was fixed somewhere in the middle distance. Twilight turned her head but could see nothing of interest outside her study window. “Princess?” “The griffins are … a feeling nation,” Luna replied. “Though they disguise it well.” “They are?” Twilight thought back to the few griffins she had met: the ultra-competitive sports team, the ultra-perfectionist chef, and the ultra-unpleasant bully. Even Rainbow Dash and Pinkie’s stories of their trip to Griffinstone had detailed Gilda as ‘the grouchiest, douchiest lifesaver ever’. “Are you sure?” “Oh, I am sure.” Luna closed her eyes, her smile widening just a touch. “I plan to return there when I next am able.” “Seriously?” Twilight bounced in place. “Could you please take me with you this time? Please, please, please, pleeeeeease?” Luna laughed. “We shall see, Twilight Sparkle. The future is, as yet, unwritten after all, and a great many strange things may be contained within it that we do not yet know.” Twilight stopped bouncing. “Well that was a weird answer.” Luna just continued to smile to herself.
Day 17: Cadence/Nightmare Moon (slice-of-life/darkfic)Title: First Contact Pairing: Cadence/Nightmare Moon “Cadence, what are you doing?” Guiltily, she snapped the book shut. “Nothing!” Celestia approached with elegant footsteps. Everything she did was elegant. Despite her new horn and increased stature, Cadence wondered whether she would always feel stubby and clumsy standing next to her. “A book?” Celestia arched an eyebrow. “Why so cagey about a book? Are you looking for a bedtime story for Twilight?” “Not this one,” Cadence admitted. “It might scare her.” “Oh? What is it?” “Um, just some folktales. You know the kind: wicked stepsisters having their hocks cut off, breezie godmothers, griffins plucking out the eyes of wrongdoers.” “Oh my.” Celestia nodded. “You’re right. That’s far too scary for Twilight.” She looked up at the bookcase, squinting in thought. At length, her magic extended in a glittering aura to pluck a tome off a high shelf. “Try this one.” “Huh?” “Nursery Rhymes for Pedantic Foals.” She winked at her adoptive niece. “I used to use it on … another student of mine when she wouldn’t go to sleep.” “Oh.” Cadence accepted the book with a little discomfort. She had known Celestia had students before her, and likely would after her too – Twilight was already primed for the role, in fact – but it was still jarring to hear confirmation that she didn’t occupy such a special place in hr aunt’s heart. “Thank you, Auntie.” “Think nothing of it. Now you’d better get along. It’s nearly six o’ clock, and if I remember rightly, Night Light and Twilight Velvet are going to the opera tonight.” “Yes Auntie. See you tomorrow for our lesson!” “Uh, Cadence?” Celestia nodded at the unoccupied bookstand. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” “Oh … um …. Could I borrow the folktale book for myself?” “I didn’t realise you were interested in such things.” “This one caught my interest.” “Well all right then, but please be careful with it.” “I will. Bye!” Twilight was fast asleep, a tiny bubble of drool edging from her mouth onto her pillow. Cadence sat in the rocking chair beside her, the folktales book open across her lap. Her eyes lapped up the beautiful images keenly, tracing each curvaceous line with both gaze and hoof. “I’ve seen you in my dreams,” she whispered softly. “You came to visit me, didn’t you?” She turned the page, drinking in the full profile painting of an alicorn with wings spread wide. “I thought you were just something my mind made up, but you’re not, are you? I’ve never even seen this book before, but I knew what you looked like. I knew … you existed.” She shook her head. “That you exist.” An echo of laughter she could only hear when she slept seemed to wind around the room like smoke. Cadence licked suddenly dry lips. “Nightmare Moon …”
Day 18: Fluttershy/Spitfire (romance/uplifting)Title: Shame and Cupcakes Pairing: Fluttershy/Spitfire Spitfire had ever felt so ashamed. I just stood there, she thought. They needed help … and I just stood there like some high and mighty – “Um … Miss Spitfire?” The breathy voice pulled her from her thoughts. “Hm? Oh. It’s you.” The butter yellow pegasus approached on foot. That seemed rather fitting for her. Despite her valiant efforts, Spitfire had never seen any pegasus as incongruous in the sky as … what was her name again? “It’s Fluttershy, right?” “Uh-huh. Um … would you … would you like to come to our celebration party?” “What?” Spitfire’s neck snapped back a little, as though she had been slapped. Evidently taking the action as some measure of revulsion, Fluttershy cringed. “Sorry, I wouldn’t have asked – I’m sure you’re really busy – but, um, my f-friend … Rainbow Dash … she’s a really huge fan of yours and … and …” Her words devolved into a squeak. Spitfire remembered Rainbow Dash. She wasn’t the kind of mare you couldn’t forget easily. Right now, however, that kind of blind adulation was the last thing she needed. “Maybe some other time. I’m kind of busy right now.” “Oh.” Fluttershy looked around. “You’re leaving?” “Not for another few hours.” “Oh. Um, then what … um …?” “Just accept that I’m busy, kid, okay?” That squeak again. It was kind of cute, really. “Okay. But … um…” A deep breath. Something important coming next, eh? “I’m n-not a kid. I’d like to think that today I-I proved that to everypony.” Spitfire arched an eyebrow. “I guess you did. Not everyone can claim that they were key to success or failure of a whole weather team operation when they’re not even a member of the weather team.” Fluttershy nodded only a little shakily. “Right.” Spitfire turned her back. “Okay not-a-kid. See you around.” “Oh.” The deflation in Fluttershy’s tone was almost palpable. “You’re … really not coming?” “I’m really not.” Spitfire tried to keep her tone casual and light. “See ya.” “Oh.” So much emotion in a single syllable, it was kind of impressive, really. “Right. I was …hoping that we could … but never mind. You’re busy.” “Yep.” “Though just FYI … um … feeling sorry for yourself may keep you busy but it, um, doesn’t make you feel any better.” Spitfire’s hackles raised. She didn’t turn back around until she had heard the hoofsteps retreat to several yards away. Then she twisted at the waist, craning for a look at the one pony who had noticed she wasn’t standing quite as proud anymore at the edge of the half-emptied lake. “Hey, Fluttershy.” The hoofsteps stopped. “Yes?” “This celebration party. Where’s it at?” “Sugar Cube Corner. The pony throwing it lives there.” “Cool.” She knew that place. She and Flash used to go there before he expatriated for The Crystal Empire. They served a huge rainbow assortment of great cupcakes. “I might drop in.” “Really?” “Maybe. Don’t get your hopes up.” Hmm. Apparently squeaky giggles were way cuter than squeaks alone.
Day 19: Discord/Sunset Shimmer (comedy/action)Title: Discord Stole the Title Pairing: Discord/Sunset Shimmer “Are you sure about this?” Twilight ducked under a branch and kept running. “Yes!” She shouted her reply over her shoulder, not breaking stride. “Separation is the only known cure!” “You know you have wings, right?” “I know, but you don’t!” Sunset scaled a boulder with the help of inertia and leapt off, hitting the dirt hard. She picked herself up and fought to keep up with the galloping princess. “Why can’t we just teleport away?” “Because a ‘port takes you through a microverse for a few seconds and that’s where he lives.” “What?” “Trust me. You don’t want to teleport.” Twilight’s horn glowed, slashing at some low-hanging vines in her path. “It’s not far now. She’ll know what to do.” “But she doesn’t even know me!” “She knows enough from what I’ve told her. She’ll help. Plus, she’s the expert.” “I knew this was a bad idea! I knew I shouldn’t have come back! If we die, this is all on you convincing me to come back to Equestria! I hope you know that!” “Now is not the time for snark, Sunset!” “It’s always time for sna-” A puff of light erupted before them. The forest began to uncoil, colours slithering along bark and leaf. Newly polka-dotted plants reached for their hooves as they passed. A tree leaned down and grabbed for them. Sunset skidded, trying to make a hairpin turn and miscalculating totally. She slewed into the candyfloss tree’s grip and its sugary wooden fingers closed around her whole body. “Twilight!” On instinct she tried to ignite her horn, but it had been too long. What had once come so naturally to her was so unpractised that her whole skull pulsed in rebellion. Sunset’s front legs buckled and she nearly fell over as she was hoisted into the air. “I’m coming!” Twilight flared her wings and soared up after her. “Put her down! Ngg!” Blasts of magic came easily for her and she used them to devastating effect. The tree let out a groan like a wounded animal and tried to fend her off – letting go of Sunset in the process. “Gaaaaaaaaaah! Not helping! Not helping!” “Sunset!” Twilight dived to catch her. But it wasn’t Twilight who made it first. Another puff of magic erupted. Sunset found herself suddenly embraced by a lion’s paw and griffin’s claw. She stared up into the mismatched face, her own mouth agape. “Playing hard to get, are we?” Discord wagged a finger. “Naughty, naughty.” He brought his face down, giving her an up close and personal view of his heart-shaped irises. “Good thing I like naughty.” “Oh crap,” Sunset trembled. “Crap, crap, crap! You definitely weren’t a thing when I left.” “Discord! Let her go!” Twilight demanded. “I’m not going to hurt her!” “You’re not in full control of your actions right now.” Twilight hovered mere feet away. “You accidentally drank the love potion Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom and Scootaloo made for their science fair.” “Pshaw. That was just grape juice. And I stole it fair and square while they weren’t looking.” Discord rolled his eyes. They turned eerie circles in his skull. Their irises did not change shape though. “Like some two-bit love potion cooked up by a bunch of amateur fillies could affect me.” “Regardless of what you think, Discord, you have been affected and-” “And you popped up in front of the portal right as I was coming through it,” Sunset muttered. “Just my luck.” “We need to keep you two apart for –” “You’re not keeping us apart!” Discord swept Sunset into a crushing hug. “We’re in love!” “Grrk! Can’t … breathe …” Discord glared at Twilight. “You’re just jealous because you can’t get any, bookworm.” Twilight blinked at him. “Wh-what?” “Princess of the Frigid North! You’re just green-eyed with envy over what beautiful, dear, wonderful Sunset and I have together.” “… Help … me…” “In fact!” He pondered for a half-second, then let go of the gasping mare long enough to click his claws. Instantly, Twilight cried out and clutched at her face. She fell backwards, lurching drunkenly through the sky. She struck a tree, grunted and plummeted to the ground. “Twilight!” Sunset wheezed. “That should keep her busy for a while. Come, my dear! My pocket dimension awaits! I can’t wait to play happy homemakers with you.” “What? No! Twiligh-” They disappeared in a click of claws. …. Twilight hit the forest floor with a thump, still holding her face. She lay for a moment, trying to orient herself, frightened to take her hooves away in case – “Twilight?” The steady thump of a pony’s canter signalled an arrival she wished had happened five minutes ago. They had been so close! “I heard a commotion and … oh my …” Gingerly, Twilight uncovered her face. Fluttershy’s squeak told her all she needed to know – especially since she could no longer see. “Twilight …your eyes … they’re … they’re made of … grass!” “Fluttershy, do you still have that special key spell to Discord’s dimension that he gave you in case of emergencies?” “Um, yes? B-but he couldn’t have done this –” “We need to use it. Now.” “Why?” “Sunset came for a visit for Princess Celestia’s birthday. It was meant to be a surprise. Now we need to go rescue her from a love-potion-addled Discord.” Fluttershy paused before responding. “Oh … my …”
Day 20: Trixie/Starlight Glimmer (comedy/romance)Title: The Greatest Love Story Never Told Pairing: Trixie/Starlight Glimmer “Wow.” “Shut up.” “Wow.” “I said shut up!” “I mean seriously … wow.” “Shut up!” “So … do you have any other friendship lessons you learned from Princess Twilight that you want to show me?” “…” “Starlight?” “I hate you.”
Day 21: Sombra/Gilda (comedy)Title: So Meta Pairing: Sombra/Gilda “So … why have we been paired up again?” “Crystallllllllllllssssssss.” “No, seriously, why?” “Crystallllllllllllssssssss!” “Last time I checked, this author has me starting something with Princess Luna, which was weird, yeah, but I could dig it. You, on the other claw…” “Crystallllllllllllssssssss!” “… That’s all you can say, isn’t it?” “Crystallllllllllllssssssss?” “I thought so.” “Crystallllllllllllssssssss. Crystallllllllllllssssssss. Crystallllllllllllssssssss!” “Waiter! Check, please!”
Day 22: Apple Bloom/Apple Bloom (grimdark)Title: Prisoner of the Past Pairing: Apple Bloom/Apple Bloom “I can’t believe it.” “Believe it, sugarbud.” “But it’s … it’s impossible! Princess Twilight said it’s impossible!” The older mare sat down, sending up wisps of straw. “Twilight never did tell y’all the truth about how Starlight became her protégé, did she?” “Student,” Apple Bloom corrected. “Starlight Glimmer is Princess Twilight’s student.” “Oh, yeah, right.” The older mare nodded. “Y’all are still at that stage, ain’t you?” “Huh?” “Never mind.” She waved a grubby hoof. “Time travel stuff.” Time travel. Apple Bloom had heard the story of how Princess Twilight once tried to warn her past self of some future woe, but she had never thought she would someday meet her own future self. She was just an earth pony after all – one stunningly talented at potions, but actual spellcasting? “Did Sweetie-Belle-?” “No!” Her older self’s brow crinkled in a mask of pain. It smoothed out in less than a second, but Apple Bloom recognised the expression from hours of looking at herself in the mirror, wondering whether her parents would have been ashamed of their blank flank daughter. She hadn’t seen that expression in two years, but she still knew it for what it was, added wrinkles or not. “No,” her older self said again, calmer this time. “Sweetie Belle didn’t cast this spell. I did.” “For real?” “Uh-huh.” “Wooooow.” Apple Bloom hopped down from the hay bale. “I gotta go tell Applejack! She’s gonna lose her mind when she sees you! Not to mention Big Mac – he might even say a whole sentence in shock!” Her older self blinked. “Oh my gosh … I forgot about them … how in Celestia’s name could I forget they were still …?” “Huh?” She shook her head. “Never mind. You can’t tell ‘em I’m here. I ain’t got much time.” “What?” Apple Bloom stared at the weather-beaten mare, wondering what had possessed her to cut her mane so ugly and short. Why, in places it looked almost shorn, like she was some kind of sheep. And was that … a tattoo? “I get a tattoo!?” It slipped out before she could stop it. Her older self instantly clapped a hoof to her neck. “Fuck.” Apple Bloom’s eyes rounded. Even several years after getting her cutie mark, nopony allowed her to curse like that. “Uh … dang it, I should’ve … fuck. You weren’t supposed to see that.” Apple Bloom’s stomach tightened at the frustration in her older voice. “You … you ain’t here just for a visit, are you?” The hoof sagged and fell to the barn floor with a hollow noise. “No, sugarbud. I ain’t. I’m here to … to prevent a great tragedy.” “What?” Tears formed at the edges of her older self’s eyes. “Someday I’m … you’re … we’re gonna get … cocky. We’re gonna try an’ prove we’re just as good as unicorns at magic.” She blinked, sending the tears skidding down her soot-stained cheeks. “It ain’t gonna go well. We’re gonna … hurt someone. Someone important. An’ it’s gonna have consequences we ain’t able to deal with.” She opened her eyes, but her focus was somewhere in the middle distance. “Consequences nopony can deal with. Not really. We aimed higher than we could reach an’ … someone else … someone real important paid the price for our arrogance.” A ball of tension began to twist up Apple Bloom’s insides. She was suddenly very aware of how far the barn was from the house. “So … you came back to warn me? Like Princess Twilight came back to warn her past self?” “Kinda.” Apple Bloom took a step back, towards the ladder down from the hayloft. She could jump it. Maybe. “K-kinda?” Her older self reached into one saddlebag. The other was blackened from fire damage, too useless to contain anything. She pulled out a long, crystalline object with a gently pulsing sphere at its tip. “I’m sorry, sugarbud. I loved bein’ you. I loved it so much. I love the you I used to be … but we ain’t safe. We’re too reckless. I went back so many times, but we always do sumthin’. We always hurt … or kill … someone … so this is the only way to be sure we don’t wreck everythin’ for the ones we love.” Apple Bloom turned to run. She made it to the top of the ladder before she heard a ‘ching-whoomph’ behind her. When the magical blast hit her, every muscles in her body convulsed. She reared back, instinctively trying to get away from the pain. Her mouth opened in a scream that never came. And then there was no more pain. There were no more muscles, or bones, or streaming ribbon trailing behind her. The battle-scarred mare watched the blackened outline fade away. There wasn’t even any dust. She liked to think she could feel the timelines shift and break apart. This one was on a better path now. Her exit from it was also sealed. She could return to the future, but it would not be the one she left. Her future existed somewhere else, in a different timeline she could no longer access. “There ain’t no place for a pony like me in this one,” she muttered as she turned the crystal wand on herself. Moments later, all that existed of any Apple Bloom were quickly drying tearstains on the hayloft floor and the plaintive voices of her siblings calling for a sister who would never come home. Author's Note 'We are products of our past, but we don't have to be prisoners of it.' ~ Rick Warren
Day 23: Trixie/Pinkie Pie (Tragedy)Title: The Visitor Pairing: Trixie/Pinkie Pie “Hiiiiiiiiii!” Trixie screwed her eyes shut and put her hooves over her ears. Not her again. Anything but that stupid ball of cheerful fluff. “Go away.” “Nope, nope, nope!” The pink blur circled the room twice more before coming to a screeching stop in the middle. This place was small enough without her and her huge personality to fill it up. “Hello hugs!” “No!” Trixie leapt up from where she had been innocently eating a bowl of cereal. She backed up so far that her tail hit the wall. “Get away from Trixie you … you freak!” “Aw, that’s not very nice!” Pinkie Pie pouted. “Aren’t you glad to see me?” She giggled. “Except you can’t see me with your eyes all shut like that, silly. C’mon, Trixie, open those peepers and give me that welcome hug I know you can do!” “No!” Trixie shook her head until the backs of her eyes hurt. “Trixie is not glad to see you! Just go away already! Can’t you take a hint?” “Not really. Applejack and Twilight say that allllllll the time. I can take a mint though. Would you like a mint chocolate chip muffin? I can bake a batch riiiight up.” “Trixie said go away! She is so not in the mood for this.” “Trixie?” Pinkie’s inflection was different this time. Sadder. Less bouncy. “Is something wrong?” Everything was wrong. Everything. “Go. Away.” “But …” Pinkie trailed off. Trixie knew that if she opened her eyes, she would see that stupid poofy mane losing its poof, like somepony had let all the air out or something. She pressed her eyelids tighter together. “Trixie …” Plaintive. Sorrowful. “Please …” No, no, no, no … “You’re being mean.” Pinkie’s voice throbbed with wounded emotion. She was always such a ball of feelings. Everything was bigger with her: she contained more happiness, more cheeriness, more happy, happy, happy! All the damn time. She was exhausting. It never ended with her. Even the injury in her voice now was so clear that an ignorant mare like Trixie could read it for what it was. Trixie had never been very good at emotions. She didn’t recognise her own very easily and was terrible at understanding them in other ponies. She was better at burying feelings under a shiny, bright coat of paint that glowed so bright and so gaudy that it fooled most ponies into thinking she knew what she was doing with her life. Except she didn’t. Very few had ever understood her enough to scratch the paint away. Even fewer had been interested enough to keep digging past the sequins and spectacle to find the insecure, vulnerable mare underneath. Nopony had cared enough to pull her out from inside the shell she had created for herself. Not even Twilight Sparkle, who had blithely accepted Trixie’s apology without seeing the scream behind her eyes. Twilight had hugged her and said it was all right, that everypony made mistakes, and then … that was it. Like a hug and a few words would be enough to fix the reasons Trixie had put on a magical necklace and tortured a whole town. Nopony had asked why as they all hurried to forgive her. Nopony except the stupid pink pony who had chased after her when she was already three miles outside Ponyville; the stupid pony who had made her talk on the steps of her parked cart, who had held her as she cried, and who given her a necklace of rock candies whose significance Trixie had not understood until later, when she summoned enough courage to see through her promise to come back to Sugar Cube Corner for her own birthday party. “You came!” Pinkie had yipped with delight when Trixie walked sheepishly through the doors. Streamers had been thrown. Cheers had rattled the rafters. Ponies had slapped her back and welcomed her into their midst. And through it all, that stupid pink pony kept up her stupid mile-wide grin, like Trixie gracing her stupid party with her presence was the best thing in the world. Don’t open your eyes. Don’t open them! “Tr …Trixie?” Pinkie whispered. “Do you really want me to go away?” “Yes. Trixie doesn’t want you here. Trixie doesn’t need you. She can cope on her own.” “Really?” Such a tiny voice from such a larger-than-life pony. “But … I love you.” Trixie’s chest felt like it was about to implode. Don’t do it! Don’t – She opened her eyes. There was nopony there. There had never been anypony there. Her chest collapsed in on itself and the wellspring of pain bubbled up where her heart used to be. “I love you too …” she whispered brokenly, slumping to the floor of her cart and burying her face in her crossed forelegs. “I’m sorry. I should have come back sooner. I should have said it before I left. I didn’t know you were sick. I didn’t get your letter. I didn’t know …” Nopony rubbed her back. Nopony mopped up her tears. Nopony presented her with a piece of cake and a smile. Trixie was alone with her pain. Just like always. Author's Note I'm aware it's not March anymore, but IRL problems have held up this project. I will, however, be damned if I let it go unfinished.
Day 25: Derpy Hooves/Nightmare Moon (darkfic)Title: Derpy's Folly Pairing: Derpy Hooves/Nightmare Moon The Queen always won. That was the central tenet of their whole society. Mountains could crumble, seas could rise and the skies could fall, but the Queen always won. Derpy didn’t open her eyes when the door opened. She heard whoever it was cross the floor and come to a halt on the other side of the curtains. If she had possessed the energy to prise her lids apart, she would have seen their shadow silhouetted against the fabric. “Majesty?” The mattress creaked. “Understand, Captain, that if you do not have an exceedingly good reason for entering my chambers without my permission and disturbing my rest, your head will decorate the castle gibbet.” The voice swallowed audibly. “Indeed, Majesty, but I bring news and you previously stated that if we were to unearth anything about the rebels –” Derpy’s feathers fluttered in the breeze created by the Queen leaping through the curtains. “What news do you have?” she demanded in a voice close to a snarl. “Our intelligence agents have reported they will be moving their children in envoy tomorrow. Since we stopped their supply lines their tenacity in their current location is precarious. We believe they will use the old tunnel system from old castle dungeons that runs beneath the forest.” “You can swear to the truth of this?” “Yes, Majesty.” “Good. Rally my forces. We attack tonight. No prisoners. I want an example made of them for the other rebels who already moved out. I suffer no insubordination and I do not spare anypony who defies me – not even children.” “It shall be done, Majesty.” The pony departed and the door shut. It took several moments before the curtains moved and Derpy felt the brush of dark feathers against her face. “Your daughter is among the rebels now, is she not?” Her breath ought to have caught at the words. “I do hope you said goodbye when you gave her to them.” The much larger mare sank onto the bed beside Derpy, purring her words almost sultrily. “Did you think I did not know of your plans? I know everything, little pegasus. I knew you had been sent to assassinate me. I knew the rebels’ leader was hoping you could charm your way into my bedchamber. I knew your plan from the very beginning. It simply served my own needs to have you linger in my bed a while before I informed you of your own folly. Then again …” The shift in weight on the mattress told Derpy the other mare was touching her, but she could not feel it. “I think you are aware of your own folly now. I do hope you at least came to that conclusion when I snapped your spine. You mortals are so fragile. One simple romp and you’re all broken to pieces.” Derpy wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to leap up and fly away, to warn Applejack and Pinkie Pie to get the foals to safety before it was too late. She wanted to hug Dinky one more time– “You rebels need to learn what my ponies already do,” Nightmare Moon whispered. She leaned in close, her lips almost touching Derpy’s ear. Vague pressure on either side of her head and the pulse of magic in her ears signalled the Queen’s horn coming to life. “I always finish what I start and I always win.” Dink– SNAP!
Day 8: Rainbow Dash/Celestia (romance/comedy)Title: The Race Pairing: Rainbow Dash/Celestia “Ready?” “I’m ready.” “Set?” “I’m set.” “G-” BAMF! Rainbow Dash skidded to a halt in mid-air – helped immensely by the lips she smacked into. Not that she was complaining. In fact, it was about the only thing she would slow down for. For minutes at a time, even! She parted from those lips with both alacrity and hesitation. It was severely unhelpful that the owner also had great use of them in beatific, slightly smug smiles that just about made Equestria’s Fastest Awesomest Pegasus implode and fall out of the sky with lust. “No fair using teleportation in kiss chase!” she protested in a voice that only shook a little, honest. “Oops,” Celestia said without a hint of regret. “My bad. Shall we try again? I’m sure I’ll get it eventually. Even if it takes a thousand years.”
Day 16: Photo Finish/Princess Celestia (darkfic)Title: Magnificent Pairing: Photo Finish/Princess Celestia The flash went off yet again, causing Celestia to blink so rapidly the entire throne room seemed to strobe. “Beautiful! Beautiful!” cried the pony behind the camera, only slightly muffled by the cape draped over her front half. “You are magnificent your majesty! Mwah!” Celestia put on her practised Beatific Princess Smile. “You are too kind.” “Nein!” the pony cried. “Not kind enough! You are wondrous! Your beauty makes the mountains themselves want to sing! Why, it is enough to make a mare tear out her own eyes so they may not be soiled by looking at ordinary, ugly, ponies for the rest of her life instead of your magnificence – ptooey!” “Uh …” Celestia struggled for a response. “Thank you?” More exclamations of her looks came after that. They were flung in such rapid-fire succession that by the end of the photo shoot, Celestia felt quite exhausted, despite having not moved from the top of the dais. “My film roll, it is finished!” the photographer gasped. “They are all finished.” “Possibly a good thing,” Celestia said softly. “Day Court starts in ten minutes.” She did not add that she desperately needed to pee. Princesses did not admit to their subjects that they had small bladders and an over fondness for grape juice. “I thank you for your time, Photo Finish. I trust you have taken enough photographs for your magazine client?” “Uh, ja! Of course! Better Homes and Ponies will be so pleased with this magnificent showing!” Photo Finish snapped the legs of her camera stand together and began backing away, pushing her entourage behind her as if with an invisible force-field projected by her tail. “Good day to you, your magnificent eminent majesty!” “Uh … quite,” Celestia said to the closed door. In her dark room, Photo Finish clipped another print to the line dangling above her head. Hundreds littered the lines strung around the room. “Magnificent,” she muttered to herself, solution sloshing in the tray as she added another print. Behind her, beneath her schedule board, a cork board teemed with magazine clippings, ponyrazzi photos and other articles. Nowhere on the schedule board was any letter from the fictional Better Homes and Ponies. Photo Finish squinted her uncovered eyes hungrily at the while alicorn developing in the tray. “So magnificent …”
Day 24: Rainbow Dash/Princess Luna (romance/comedy)Title: Royal Canterlot Noise Pairing: Rainbow Dash/Princess Luna “We are most pleased with thy performance!” “Yeah … could you stop shouting now?” “We apologise. We are simply rather thrilled with our evening so far.” “Uh, when you say ‘we’ are you speaking for both of us?” “Oh, sorry. Sometimes I still forget myself.” “Yeah, I get that. I also wish I could get some painkillers right now.” “My sweet Rainbow Dash, are you injured?” “Put it this way, Princess, it was a long, long and lonely thousand years on the moon for you, wasn’t it?” “Uh …” “So yeah, I need some painkillers right now.” “Would … would I be able to … kiss your injuries better? I believe kisses are famed for their healing properties in this modern age.” “Princess, if you kiss me again, I’m going to end up more injured.” “… Heh.”
