Moving On

Chapters

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4

Chapter 1

Moving On

~~~

I lay in bed, languidly stretching out with a contented moan. Warm half-memories of my dreams flit across my mind as I revel in the comfort of the downy mattress and light, silken sheets. A low rumble of thunder and the powerful smell of an early morning rainstorm flood my room through the open window. A perfect morning to sleep in. A tingling sensation finds my hoof sliding down my taut belly. I bite my lip and arc my lower back slightly. Turning my head to the side, I bite down on my pillow and get a mouthful of my tangled mane. Thoughts of strong wings, gentle hooves and nipping teeth fill my sleep-hazed mind.

I don’t hear the door open, though I do catch the sharp gasp, and my eyes snap open to take in my sister’s wide, scandalized eyes, her hoof raised to her mouth.

“Sweetie Belle!”

Oh hell. I feel myself blush hotly in shame.

~~~

It’s been four years since I had moved officially into the Carousel Boutique with Rarity. Four years since our parents moved off to “seek out adventure,” or whatever it is that ponies in the grip of mid-life crisis decide is necessary to keep their lives interesting. They half-heartedly offered to take me with them, but we all knew that to be little more than a gesture. They wanted time together; I wanted to stay with my friends in the place I loved. Even after Rarity and I had established stronger bonds with the Sisterhooves Social all those years ago, even after we had learned the real worth of being sisters… well, the look on her face when our parents broke the news and asked her to take me in full-time was priceless. I wasn’t worried she’d actually say no, so I got to revel in how hilarious her expression was as she absorbed the situation. Soon after she stopped hyperventilating and obsessing about the implications, she welcomed me into her home with open arms. And a mop.

I finished school two years ago, graduating with honors alongside Apple Bloom. Scoots was held back a quarter on something she, to this day, viciously insists was a technicality, but Bloom and I can’t resist ribbing her on it every chance we get. I’m now splitting my time pursuing studies of the magical sciences with Twilight Sparkle—and really, who could ask for a better teacher—and working on my music. My sister has a lot of connections throughout the aristocratic circles of Canterlot, but while I don’t dislike opera and the classical performances, it’s really not where my heart is. Instead, I’ve been doing a lot of practicing and networking with Lyra and Vinyl: ponies involved in the more modern styles of music. Rock and dubtrot; I can’t get enough of the stuff. My studies with Twilight came as something of a surprise, not only to me, but to my friends and family. A predilection for such powerful magic wasn’t something I had expected to stumble across.

The Cutie Mark Crusaders are still going strong, though with a wholly new cast. It’s kind of gratifying in a weird, nostalgic way to see the young, blank-flanked colts and fillies take up the mantle—running around town doing all kinds of crazy stunts and generally having a great time. That’s what childhood should be about, never mind the obsession of searching for their marks. Looking back, I can see that the never-ending crusading was really ancillary. It was about fun; it was about building friendships that last a lifetime.

~~~

Right about now, however, the only thing on my mind is snatching up my pillow with my magic and hurling it at my sister, who’s still standing in frozen shock in my doorway. “Get out, Rarity!” I yell. “And knock next time! Can’t a pony get any privacy around here?!”

Stuttering apologies, she quickly retreats, my door closing with a louder slam than she probably intended. I sigh, the moment irrevocably lost in that mortifying encounter. Staring blankly up at the ceiling, I really have to wonder if it’s not time for a serious change of pace.

Rarity’s probably stomping down the stairs now, muttering about unladylike behaviors. Pheh. Naturally, she won’t give a thought to the times I’ve walked in on her and whichever stallion she’d decided to indulge in that month. At least I kept things in my room, not like that time I’d actually walked in the front door and caught her and some guy in living room. Granted, I was supposed to have been staying overnight with Scoots and Bloom, but we stayed out a bit late at the Cider House, and I’d decided to stop by and pick up… something. I can’t even remember what it was that sent us on a stumbling detour back to the Boutique at one in the morning, but I sure as hell remember opening the front door and seeing her laid out across the table. We eat on that table. I would have backed out quietly if it weren’t for that damn bell above the door.

A series of screams, a flying sewing machine, and a quick retreat later, Bloom, Scoots and I were trotting back toward Sweet Apple Acres. Scoots and Apple Bloom seemed to think it was the most hilarious thing they’d ever seen; Scootaloo even laughed so hard she tripped over her own hooves—okay, maybe it was one of mine—and face-planted right into a bush. I was considerably less amused at the situation… I mean, come on—the dinner table! This, of course, just made them laugh harder.

So yes, it’s high-time to get my own place. I’m nearly the same age as Rarity when she moved out on her own, after all. Well, close enough anyway. A quick shower later, and I manage to duck out of the house without another encounter; I heard Rarity leave while I was washing. Dumb bell. She’s probably off to meet with Fluttershy at the spa and recount in incredibly embarrassing detail the ‘trauma’ she just experienced.

I grab a light cloak on the way out and sling it over my back against the pattering rain. I love Ponyville like this: the soft light of day filtering down through the ubiquitous cloud cover, rumbles of thunder rolling in the distance, the rich scent of rain and grass permeating the air. The town’s buildings, already colorful, seem even more incredibly vibrant when wet. A cool, steady breeze tugs at the edges of my violet cloak.

I trod aimlessly down the street, my hooves leading the way. I find myself en-route to my favorite cafe. Oh. Good call hooves. A nice, strong coffee would be perfect right now. Oh! If only I had brought a good book! Nothing beats—

My thoughts are shattered as I pass by a narrow alleyway: a hoof shoots out and grabs ahold of me. Before I know it, I find myself pulled into the concealing alley, lifted to my rear legs and shoved up against the side of the building. A tongue pushes past my lips and into my mouth. One strong hoof presses roughly against my chest, another grabbing my mane and pulling my head to the side, breaking the kiss. I gasp as I feel teeth bite into my neck. A low chuckle rumbles against my craned neck, tickling my coat and sending another shudder through me. Raising my forelegs, I gain the presence of mind to shove my attacker back, sending her stumbling and allowing me to gain my hooves and breath. Narrowing my eyes, I growl, “Oh, you are so going to get it later.”

She blinks, then grins. Okay, maybe not the most ominous threat I could have made. She trots up to me again, totally ignoring my fearsome scowl, and runs a hoof across my cutie mark. “That a promise?” she whispers, breath hot as she nips my ear.

I shiver a little, a treacherous smile sliding across my muzzle. “Maybe,” I say in a sing-song tease. I lean forward and kiss her, long and hard. Before her hooves can start to wander again, I pull back. “Seriously though, you wanna get some coffee? I’m going to need about half a dozen shots-in-the-dark after my morning so far.”

Scootaloo raises an eyebrow and cocks her head, her riotous shock of purple mane falling to the side. “Oh yeah? What’s new in the drama-nest?”

I look away, about to field one of the multitude of things that have been irritating me lately, but fail to hide the hot blush, and Scootaloo jumps on it immediately. “Ooooooh! What happened?!” She starts to bounce in place. “What happened what happened what happened! Did she leave one of her toys in the bathroom again?” Scootaloo’s mind is clearly abuzz with the possibilities. Every bit as much as I find my sister’s… proclivities to be embarrassing, Scoots seems to find them just as hilarious. My face goes from warm to supernova as I realize I’m going to have to tell her that this time around, I’m the one who got nailed… er, figuratively speaking.

Unless…

Looking over her shoulder, I cry out, “Oh! Good morning, Rainbow Dash!”

Like clockwork, Scootaloo whirls around, searching the sky for her long-time idol and—I suspect without jealousy—long-time crush. By the time she turns back around to throw a befuddled glance at me, I’m three blocks away, cloak trailing behind as I gallop full-tilt. Yep, this is definitely the more dignified alternative. I hear her cry out in surprise, and pour on the speed, knowing she’s about to give chase. I skid around a corner and immediately make a hard left into another alley, hoping to throw her off now that I’m out of her line of sight. I exit the alley and take a right, passing Roseluck’s flower stand. Panting for air, I exchange a ‘good morning’ with her. Taking a look around, I decide I can settle on my second favorite cafe this morning. I get about halfway there before a shadow passes over me.

That’s all the warning I get before I’m full-body tackled into the wet grass, rolling end over end with the young orange pegasus. She’s laughing, and so am I. It was only a matter of time, though I had hoped to get some caffeine in me before the rumble. As usual, she has me pinned quickly, and I’m staring up at her wide grin and beautiful eyes, framed by the cascade of her sharp-purple mane. I want to kiss her, right here.

Instead, I push at her, grumbling, “Okay, okay. You win already! Now get off me and let’s get a cup.”

She looks at me in faux-suspicion, her wings spread wide. “No more tricks?”

“No more tricks. C’mon,” I say, dusting myself off and trotting to the cafe that would have been my temporary salvation, a mere block away. The ponies around us are laughing good-naturedly at our little display, most of them well-used to our antics, having known us since we were foals. Things have, of course, changed somewhat, but they don’t all need to know that. Not yet.

Sitting in the cafe, our steaming mugs before us, I take in the rich aroma of the strong, black-as-night coffee. Finally, I think, taking a blissful sip. Scootaloo clears her throat and I glance up. She’s staring at me expectantly. I know what she’s waiting for, and once again I feel my face begin to redden. I’m trying desperately to think of some way to mitigate this disaster—the impending embarrassment is easily on par with Scoots having to repeat some school. I know I’ll never get to play that card against her again if this gets out, and damn it, I love that card. Still, as I look up into her earnest eyes, I know there’s no way in the nine hells she’s not going to know if I feed her a lie. She’s got a thing about that. Pity? Maybe if I start crying, she’d... nah. She’d just start making fun of me. I can already hear her making snarky comments likening us to my sister and a diamond dog. Uuuuuuugh. If only Bloom were here—

“You’re pouting,” Scootaloo observes dryly.

I suck my lower lip back in and raise my chin. “I most certainly am not!” I say, pretending offense.

She sighs and leans forward. “Look Sweetie... yeah, I’m hella curious about what happened this morning, and I can tell it’s going to be a total riot, so there’s no way you’re getting out of here without telling me every detail.” She reaches a hoof out to rest upon mine and lowers her voice. “But you know how much I love you, and while you can bet your tight flank I’m going to make fun of you till the sun goes down, it’s not that I’m being mean about it. You know me,” she says, with what I’m sure she imagines to be a winning smile.

Her logic is so far out there that if it weren’t true, it’d never make sense. I take another swallow of the bitter black and brace myself, leaning forward and dropping my voice to a whisper. Her eyes light up like it’s Hearths Warming Eve. “Okay, fine. This morning, Rarity... um... ‘caught’ me in an awkward moment.”

She waits for me to elaborate, and when I don’t keep talking, she raps the table impatiently.

I groan. “I mean, she walked into my room without knocking. I was, um... y’know.”

She stares at me blankly. I swear to Celestia she’s doing this on purpose.

“She caught me masturbating,” I hiss at her, my face beet-red.

Scoots’ jaw slumps down, and for a moment she doesn’t even breathe. Very slowly, she lowers her head into her hooves and clenches her eyes shut. Her shoulders start shaking, a little at first, and then so violently I have to lift our cups off the table so they don’t spill out. She looks back up at me, tears streaming down her face, her muzzle contorted in barely restrained mirth. “Are you bucking serious?” she chokes out. I give her my best poker face. “You are! Oh. My. Gosh. This is—” Apparently too much for her, as she drops her head again and starts pounding the table with a hoof in abandon. If her coffee weren’t scalding hot, I’d up-end it right over her head. I consider it anyway.

“You do realize,” she wheezes, her muzzle still buried against her hoof, “Apple Bloom is going to die when she hears about this.”

Oh. Yes. Thank you so much for that, darling. The thought never crossed my mind. I clear my throat. “Actually Scoots, this kind-a-sorta brings up something I’ve been thinking about for a while...” I wait for the change in tone to sink in, and she gradually composes herself, raising a hoof to wipe away the tears, the other clutching her ribs.

After a moment she pulls it together, getting the last few chuckles out. “Heh. Okay, right. What’s up?”

Now it’s my turn to hesitate. “Well, I’ve been thinking... I really do need to get some space from my sister, and... y’know that loft you’ve been renting?”

She nods, her expression nonplussed as she takes a sip of her latte.

“Well, I know it’s a bit small, even for one pony, sloppy as you are, but... what do you think about maybe... upgrading?”

She blinks at me. Honestly, if I have to spell this out...

“Wait. Are you saying what I think you’re saying? You wanna... get a place? Together?”

I’m getting really tired of blushing. “Well, yeah, the thought had crossed my mind. Is it... would you be interested? I mean, we’ve been seeing each other for over a year now, despite our decision to keep it kinda hush-hush, and well, I just...” I trail off, uncertainty washing over me. Have I misread her? Us? Does she not feel as deeply about me as I do about her? It has only been just over a year since our status as best friends evolved into something more. I bite my lip; maybe I am jumping the gun...

“Hey!” she says, jarring me from my thoughts so badly that I jump a little. “Sweetie. I love you. I’d love to live with you.” The sincerity in her voice and the soft smile on her muzzle erases the doubts that were running like acid through my mind. I feel tears start to brim as she continues, “You know Apple Bloom’s been wondering when we were going to make things public, and honestly, anypony with eyes has known for a while, so there’s nothing to worry about on that front. I love listening to you practice, so we’ll have to get a place with a jam room for your band. You know the hours I keep, what with training for advanced flight school, so just keep it mild in the mornings. Other than that, I don’t see anything keeping this from being wonderful,” she says with a wide smile.

My vision blurry, I lean forward and kiss her, right there in the cafe.

She leans back, hooves behind her head and a satisfied smirk on her face. “Besides, I’ve been needing somepony to clean up after me for like, ever.”

A flare of my horn and my beautiful young lover is drenched in her steaming latte. For good measure, I tip her chair back, sending her sprawling to the floor. Everypony’s attention is on the soaked and cursing pegasus, but I lean forward contentedly, chin propped against a hoof; my thoughts are already swirling around moving day.

Chapter 2

Moving On ~ Chapter Two

I gallop through the night for all I'm worth. My pounding hooves send mud splashing in every direction, and every step sinks and slides beneath me. Bursting from the alley, I cut a hard left turn—slipping only a little—and make a beeline for the massive tree in the clearing ahead. Between huge breaths and the sharp pain in my side, I lower my head and gallop all-out, the heavy rain pounding on my ragged cloak. Only magic guides my steps as I dodge, jump and weave.

Finally, I reach the door, opening it with a bright glow and not slowing a bit as I hurtle into the treehouse. Locking my legs, I come to a sliding halt, spin around, and slam the heavy oak door shut, leaning against it as I try to fill my burning lungs. I'm rather fond of air, and my lungs are insisting we aren't getting enough of it.

“Sweetie Belle!” The deep voice startles me, making me jump. “What the hell—are you alright?! What happened to you?”

Still gasping, I pull a forehoof along my face, wiping away the grime and rainwater, whipping it down into the puddle that’s steadily growing around me. I stand shakily, meeting the adolescent dragon’s eyes.

Spike has really grown over the years, his frame becoming remarkably angular and sharp. He goes around on four legs more often than not these days—which is good—because even on all fours his height already topped Big Mac’s by a good hoof and a half.

Narrowing his eyes, Spike steps forward, his wings unfurling in a gesture of concern… or anger. It’s harder to tell with dragons. “Sweetie,” his voice rumbles, growing more urgent. “Where is Twilight?”

I can fully understand why he is so concerned as I look down at myself. Dripping wet, my once-beautiful, rich brown cloak with its wide hood hangs sopping wet, rough tears along the sides, scorched holes still smoking lightly—Rarity is going to be furious, a high-pitched voice in the back of my head notes. I raise my hoof to forestall him, when he rushed past me with such speed that I could only call out his name before he was out the door. Whatever comforting words were on my tongue disappeared as I yelled, “Spike! No! Don’t, she’s—“

The purple flash is bright as a bolt of lightning, and I clench my eyes against it. The young dragon flies back into the treehouse, the force of the magical mine detonating sends him tumbling across the floor, energy arching across his body.

“Spike!” a voice not my own cries out. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the air warp and shimmer. I take a wide stance as my horn automatically cast a half dozen warding and defensive spells. Twilight Sparkle, Archmage of Canterlot, pays me no attention as she rushes toward her ‘little brother,’ her well-cut robes flowing about her—completely dry robes, I note with some small resentment. She comes to a halt, kneels down next to him and shakes his shoulder with a hoof, calling his name all the while.

He props himself up on an elbow; one sharp-taloned hand going to his head as he lets out a groan. “T-Twilight? What’s going on?”

After seeing that he’s okay, Twilight visibly relaxes and casts me an appraising glance. I narrow my eyes. “Not bad, Sweetie. You not only managed to rapid-teleport out of the combat zone, but were clever enough to detect every trap on the way here… well, every one related to the test, at any rate. When you rushed through the door, you triggered the snap-spell that tells me when somepony has opened the library’s front door. Given that it is three in the morning, it wasn’t much a guess as to who it was, and thus where you were.” Her voice takes on a slightly sharper edge. “I’m a bit disappointed you didn’t notice when I teleported into the kitchen, despite the dampening and invisibility spells I had already engaged.”

I have to admit, she presents something of an amusing picture at the moment, one half of her regarding me sternly, the other—which her conscious mind seems wholly unaware of—still kneeling protectively near Spike, one hoof absently resting on his shoulder. The dragon himself merely lies there, taking in the scene with a bemused, if slightly annoyed expression.

Twilight’s eyes narrow a bit as she voices her final appraisal. “Seven out of ten.” She smiles, her stern features melting into an expression of approval and warmth. “Not bad at all, my little apprentice.”

I don’t relax my stance an inch, a gamut of contained spells still charged and ready. She lets out a small laugh and nods. “Training over.”

I collapse in a heap, the past four hours catching up to me in a wave.

A minute later, I open my eyes to see Twilight helping Spike to his feet, apologizing profusely while he grumbles a torrent of complaints.

The muffled sound of an explosion in the distance catches everypony’s—and dragon’s—attention; Twilight whips her head around, staring in the direction of the sound, her eyes wide.

"You didn't deactivate the mines?!" I ask in disbelief.

Twilight lets out a panicked sound and disappears in a flash of purple light.

"She didn't deactivate the mines?!" Scootaloo's incredulous voice rings out, her eyes wide as she stares at me from across the table.

I laugh. "I know, she's so embarrassed!"

Scootaloo is less amused. Glowering at me, in fact. "Why are you laughing?! Somepony could have gotten seriously hurt! I've seen the two of you practice, and I ain’t gonna lie—it’s kinda scary."

I wave a hoof. "They were only stun-mines, limited packets of disruptive energy. No more. And how could anypony know that Applejack would pick this of all mornings to set up her stall before dawn?"

Scootaloo gapes at me. "Are you kidding me? AJ triggered it?!" Her expression is torn between horror and hilarity. Scoots' natural reaction to anything is to laugh at it, no matter how serious. It’s a trait of hers I find both endearing and infuriating, but this time the tables are turned, and she doesn't like it one bit. She looks so adorable with her bed-raggled mane that I can't resist, and break down laughing at her.

"Sweetie! This is serious! Is AJ okay?" she demands, pounding the table with her hoof.

I straighten up, regaining my composure and lifting my coffee from the tabletop, taking a sip. "Yeah, she's fine now. She was knocked pretty good by the spell, but you know how tough earth ponies are, Applejack in particular. " I chuckle. "Her apples were scattered everywhere. I guess she triggered the mine head on, and it sent her right back through her cart. At first she was furious, but now she just wants Twilight to leave her alone for two seconds and buy her a new wagon. Twi's been at AJ's side since it happened, and apologizing every other minute."

Scootaloo can't help but smirk at that. "So where are they now?"

"In the square. AJ's trying to sell her apples, Twilight's probably still distraught and scaring away all her customers. You know how she gets."

Scoots nods fondly, taking a drink from her own cup. I scrunch up my nose and change the subject. "How can you stand it like that? You put enough cream and sugar in it to drown a cat; you can't even taste the coffee."

It’s a long-standing thing between us, and she pinches her brows together in disgust, looking at my own cup. "Riiiight, because yours doesn't taste like charred wood at all."

We pretend to glare at one another for a moment before sharing a chuckle. Scoots leans back, half-yawning as she stretches her back against the chair, hooves raised high above her head. She lets out a satisfied moan, and I bite my lip. "So, what are you up to today?" she asks. I quickly smooth out my expression before she catches it.

"Oh, um—" I cough. "I'm..." What am I going to do today? I certainly have some plans set up for tonight, but I don't want to ruin the surprise. So naturally, I deflect. "Eh, I think after last night, I'm going to get a nap in. Just lay about the house, maybe read a book. Y'know."

She doesn't seem to catch anything amiss about my dodge, which is understandable given how much she hates mornings—something else we share—and the fact that I do look pretty ragged...

I had trudged into the apartment just after daybreak. Scoots says she never sleeps well when I'm out; she woke while I was working the chain lock back into place. When I turned around, she was leaning against the frame of our bedroom door; her eyebrows raised high as she regarded me, clearly unamused. I had accrued another small lake on my trip back, which was now making its home on our floor. I offered her an embarrassed smile, reaching back and pulling my now thoroughly tattered cloak off and hang it on the peg by the door, before shaking the excess from my mane. Looking back at her, I found her ears laid back and her eyes narrowed at me. I was about to ask what her problem was—probably a bit more snappy than I'd have liked—when she turned around and trod back into our room, chuckling to herself. Huffing and wondering what her deal was, I glanced about the room and noticed the water running down the walls around me. Oops. Sighing, I grabbed a towel and cleaned up the water before giving myself a more thorough drying in the bathroom.

By the time I'd trotted wearily over to the bed, the sun was already lighting the horizon, the Apple and Carrot family's roosters going completely insane. I don't know if I'm the only pony those birds drive crazy, but I've lost count of how many times I'd lain in bed, a pillow clamped over my head, contemplating how much work it would take to hunt down and capture a couple Cockatrices, throw them in the birds' coops and then get away with the whole affair. Probably more than it was worth.

Scoots and I had awoken several hours later, the morning already pressing into early afternoon. I came to curled up against her, my back pressing into her soft chest. She had one wing draped over me—a gesture of unspoken protectiveness that melts me every time—and I snuggled back into her. She responded with an incredibly loud snort as she woke up, which caused me to go into a small paroxysm of giggles. She bit down on my ear, and I gasped. She was good at shutting me up when she wanted to. Still enwrapped within her wing and arms, I scooted around to face her, and she drew me in for deep kiss. The taste of her tongue and softness of her lips was always particularly impressive coming out of a deep sleep. Something about newly returned senses being more acute, perhaps. I lost all interest in carrying the theory further as her hoof slid along my neck and snaked down past my belly. I gasped, and she bit down on my shoulder as she rolled me onto my back.

After breakfast, by which I mean a half pot of coffee each, Scootaloo went out for her daily training sessions. I know I told her I was probably staying in, but now that she'd gone I began to feel restless. Not bored, just... restless. Warm afterglow notwithstanding. With a sudden devilish grin, I decided I knew exactly what to do: I would go pay my sister a visit, and see if she had time to fix up my cloak.

"Sweetie, whatever have you done?!" my sister cries with her standard degree of melodrama.

I sigh. "I'm sorry, Sis," I say, trying to hide my grin but eager for her next overblown reaction. "Twilight only has so much time on her monthly visits, and she decided that though my curriculum was moving forward at an advanced rate, I had been extremely lacking in one particular area," I say as I trail her through the foyer into her main workroom.

"Mmhmm," Rarity hums at me, one of her ears flicking as she begins rummaging through her supplies and materials. That particular tick is one of her more amusing—and less obnoxious—traits. Her right ear always does this little flicking motion when she begins to concentrate on her craft. "And what would that be?" she asks, somewhat surprising me she had paid even that much attention. My sister tends to get more than a little absorbed in her work.

My grin spreads, and I simply say, "Combat magic." I bite my lip to stop from giggling as I wait for that to penetrate. I don’t have to wait long.

"Mmhm—bwahaa?!" I swear, she very nearly squeals. She wheels around, her eyes darting between me and my cloak as she takes in the damage done to it. "Are you... oh, Sweetie, you must be joking!" She knows I’m not. I hate it when she does that. "Combat magic, darling? We do not—I mean... really!" She stops as I just stare at her, trying to suppress my laughter.

Rallying, she tries again. "Sweetie Belle, honest-ly. I don't mean to impugn your studies, and of course I hold Twilight in the highest respect, but what in Equestria was she thinking?" Her voice begins to rise again, and I settle in to enjoy the show. "Taking my baby sister out in the dead of night, in the middle of a torrential rainstorm no less, and... and hurling fireballs at her!"

Okay, show’s over; this is getting a bit much. I am not a foal anymore. "Rarity,” I say, stomping a hoof. “I'll have you know I'm quite grown-up now, thank you very much. And I'd appreciate it if you gave me at least a little bit of credit. Twilight says I'm one of her best students." I don't like to boast, but I can't deny I felt a certain amount of pride in that. I know Twilight well enough to know she just doesn't do favoritism, and when she's playing the role of professor or archmage, she can get scary serious. Any position I currently hold, I damned-well earned it.

"Oh, Sweetie, you know I didn't mean—"

"Whatever," I say sharply, cutting her off. "Can you please just fix up my cloak?"

She looks wounded and I feel a brief pang of guilt, but her implied insult is still burning. She nods and says, "Of course. It will be good as new. Give me till tomorrow?" I nod, muttering my thanks as I turn to leave. I resist the urge to give Opal a swift kick on my way out. Barely. Dumb cat.

I linger in the park for a while, enjoying the warmth of the clear day, especially after last night. I finally remember to bring a book with me, and split the rest of the afternoon between reading up on a rather diverse range of magical theories, and watching the foals play and splash in the shallow waters of the pond. I’ll never understand how Twilight manages to take such a dry subject and bring it to such vibrant life under her quill. I’ve tried explaining my passion for the field to Scoots a few times, and while she follows well enough—as well as any non-unicorn can, I suppose—it just doesn’t hold the same appeal for her as it does for me. Don’t get her started on the Daring Do series though.

I slip the book back into my saddlebag and rise, wincing at a pinched nerve in my neck. I go through a couple stretches that Scootaloo taught me a while back, and am surprised as ever by how well they work. With a contented little smile, I look up to the sky and my heart leaps right into my throat. I’m utterly shocked to see how close the sun is to the horizon. Ohhhh not good! Scoots will be home in... half an hour! Gah! With a speed born of complete panic, I gather up my blanket and water bottle, shove them haphazardly into my bag, snatch it up in my teeth and vanish in a brilliant flash of magic.

The world spins momentarily as my vision clears. Long distance teleports always disorient me more than quick jumps, and I’ve never been able to figure out why. Shaking my head, I remember I’m on the clock.Aaaand this place is a wreck. Damn.I know I don’t have time to tidy up before Scootaloo gets home, but it irks me all the same. Dashing into the bedroom, I pull off my saddlebags and empty them into the closet, then throw them onto the unmade bed. I rush around to my bed stand, open the drawer, and stuff a couple key items within before slinging them over my back once more. As I barrel out of the bedroom, my shoulder catches the doorframe. I move to compensate, and my front hoof catches the tip of our rug. Suddenly I’m a screaming, wide-eyed pony that was never meant to be airborne. I crash right down and through a wicker hallway stand, coming to a tumbling halt against a wall with my head on the floor and my rump towards the ceiling. Groaning, I flop down onto my side and take in the additional mess I’ve made. I don’t have time for this!Frantically, I gather the strewn items up in my magic—pausing a moment to cast a fond glance of a framed picture of me, Scoots, and Bloom the day after we got our marks—and unceremoniously toss the lot of it into the hall closet.

I can feel the seconds creeping up on me. Scootaloo has never kept anything close to what could be called a schedule. She could be out of practice at any time, depending on how long her mid-training nap took, or end up staying until long after nightfall if she discovered a particularly challenging new trick. I can’t count how many times I’ve waited up for—Ahh! Time! Wasting it. Move! Saddlebags, where—There. I grab them up, making certain their contents are still safely within, and rush to the kitchen to scribble out a hasty note. I set three flowers atop the fold of paper, and turn toward the door. Which is, of course, right when I hear the key being slid into the lock. My ears fold back and I look left and right for some escape. Closing my eyes, I disappear once more in a flash of magic.

Opening the door cautiously, Scootaloo peered inside. “Hello?” she called into the apartment, one hoof raised pensively off the ground. “Sweetie? Are you home?” She stepped into the apartment and stopped. I know I heard someone in here.“Sweetie?” No answer. Frowning, Scootaloo shucked her bags, lowering them to the floor before moving soundlessly forward. She doubted anypony would break in, but something about this situation felt wrong. She knew there was somepony in here a moment ago, but now the place appeared deserted. Stalking about the apartment, she checked the bathroom, guest room, bedroom, even the closets before she was certain there was no interloper to be pummelled.

“Huh. Weird,” she said aloud, trotting into the kitchen for a glass of water. Grasping the cup handle with her teeth, she stepped on the lever that poured fresh, cool water from the faucet. She filled her glass before turning to gather her things and sink her tired flank down on the couch. That’s when she spotted it. A letter and three flowers, sitting there on the dining room table. Scootaloo ambled over, setting her glass down and nosing open the letter. Sweetie Belle’s elegant, if obviously rushed, quillwork was etched on the paper. Scoots,

Bloom invited us over to hang out for a while. Went ahead. Meet us at the clubhouse. See you there. BYOC!

Lov Don’t forget to take a shower!!

Love,

Sweetie

Bemused, Scootaloo looked down at the three flowers laying on the table. A white rose, bright orange tulip, and red rose arranged next to one another, their stems entwined. The hell is she up to this time?

Chapter 3

Moving On - Chapter 3

~~~

I shake my head to clear my vision. The wash of magic that brought me here recedes, and the world stops spinning. Out of habit, I lick my hoof and run it back over my mane, knowing full well how teleportation plays havoc with my hair. Satisfied, I glance back over my shoulder. The sun will be setting any moment; an ethereal dusk will settle over Ponyville before night fully takes hold. Perfect.

Smiling a little, I begin a brisk canter along a very, very familiar path. Not the main road, to be sure, but more a Crusader’s highway. When we were young, the three of us had forged secret paths for a day’s trot in every direction. Some were more direct than the main roads, while others twisted through hidden patches of forest, leading to marvelous coves or secret ponds that adults would never know about. That’s something I promised myself: I would never forget what things were like back then. I would never forget how it felt to explore—the drive to find out what was waiting around that thicket, or over the next hill. It’s sad to think that other ponies may have forgotten that feeling. Either way, it’s not something I care to think about too much. It’s a disturbing thing. And distracting. So distracting, in fact, that I fail to notice the low-hanging branch in time to duck beneath it. As I sit there on my now-dirty flank, rubbing my head and blinking away tears, I think that maybe I could do with a little less excitement after all. I glare up at the branch, tempted to blast it to pieces… but no. It’s been there longer than I have. I remember running below it, laughing with my friends by my side, a thousand times. With a snort, I gain my hooves, this time ducking carefully below the overhang and continuing on my way down the overgrown trail.

The path ahead opens up into a lush meadow, and I spot the first of many apple trees as I stride into the edge of the Apple family orchards. There are no fences to mar the scene, and a brook gurgles delightfully as it cuts through the middle of the clearing. I cast a fond glance at our old swimming hole as I canter by it. It looks as inviting as ever, the crystal-clear water shining in the fading sunlight. Round the giant old apple tree, my destination comes into view and a familiar elation wells in my breast. Breaking into a too-huge smile, I pick up the pace, my saddlebags clinking at my sides and my tail swishing wildly. I come to the bottom of an ascending ramp and draw in a deep breath. The rich scents of summer and fruit trees fill my chest. It’s been too long.

I’m drawing my hoof wistfully back and forth across the old wood of the ramp when a head pops out of a window above.

“Sweetie Belle! It’s about time ya got here!”

I can’t help but chuckle at the tempered drawl of her voice, nearly as familiar to me as my own. I look up and give my old friend a wide smile.

She laughs down at me before I can greet her properly. “An’ what in tarnation happened to your head?”

I put a hoof to my forehead, wincing as I touch the rising bump. “I, uh… would you believe I got mugged on the way over?” I ask ruefully. Dumb branch.

She laughs again. “Riiight. Meanin’ ya had another run-in with a stationary object, huh?”

I start up the ramp grumbling to myself. I’ve changed my mind—sometimes old friends are overrated.

Scootaloo closed her eyes and took a deep breath; she really wasn’t in the mood for any of this. Raising her face to the shower spout, the hot water rained down on her, washing away the sweat and dirt of a hard day’s practice. The water felt amazing, running in rivers down her trim and angular body. She rose up and placed a hoof on the stall wall, balancing as she stretched, the high-pressure stream directed to her flanks, withers, and tail. She shifted and smiled a little as she let the water caress her. With a sigh, she leaned her forehead against the wall, wondering what was so important that Sweetie couldn’t wait for her; the unicorn couldn’t even be bothered to ask if she even felt like going out this evening.

Scootaloo scowled, because the short answer was that she didn’t. The long answer was on the tip of her tongue with nopony to around to unleash it on.Today’s session had sucked; she felt she had a black cat tied to her tail for every maneuver she went for. Nothing seemed to work out. Every turn was off, every angle wrong, and by the end of the day, it was all she could do not to scream and tear somepony’s head off in frustration. Of course she didn’t, it was nopony’s problem—or fault—but hers. Which made it worse. All she wanted to do was come home, explain how every single thing in all of Equestria sucked ass and was totally, unfairly against her today and be drawn to her lover’s porcelain-white breast.

Now her nervous bundled energy was peaked, and it was all she could do not to put a hoof through the damn wall when she’d read Sweetie’s note. Briefly, she had contemplated just not going—just blowing the whole thing off. They’ll understand, she had reasoned. And they would, she knew they would, which was precisely why she couldn’t do that to them. Plus, it was Apple Bloom, and she hadn’t seen her old friend in what felt like forever. Sighing in resignation, she shook her entire body, water flying off her like rain. She pulled a towel from the rack and finished the job, doing her hair last. Throwing the towel to the side, she clopped over the mirror and couldn’t help grinning. Her violet mane was an absolute riot of angles, thick spikes standing in every direction. Running a hoof through it, she brought her hair into as close to order as she cared to have it.

Still slightly damp and smelling of roses and vanilla from Sweetie’s private stock of shampoos—she kept hiding them in ever-more creative places, inside one of her dresses this time—Scootaloo trotted through the living room. She remembered Sweetie’s instructions, tossed a few bits in her saddlebags before slinging them over her shoulders, and headed out. She didn’t bother to lock the door.

“No, Sweetie Belle, that’s not what Ah’m askin’, an’ you know it!” I don’t mean to sound quite as irritated as I do. I can tell by the surprised look on her face that this is not how she saw things going.

“Well, I don’t know what you want me to say, Bloom!” Sweetie says, getting exasperated herself now.

“Jus’… Ah dunno… what’s it—” I swallow audibly, an’ lower my voice to a near-whisper. Sweetie leans forward, one ear canted toward me to catch it as I ask her, “What’s it like?”

She immediately leans back, almost overbalancing her chair. Regaining her composure, she eloquently asks, “Uhhhhh, whatcha talkin’ about, Bloom?”

I can feel myself flush, and I think her eyebrows are going to fly clear off her head. From the look on her face, she thinks I’m talkin’ about... Oh come on, she can be so dense sometimes! We’d already covered—I frown at her, bringing her mind right back outta the gutter. Honestly. Unicorns.

“Bein’ Twilight’s apprentice?” I ask.

The look on her face is priceless. I can practically hear what she’s thinkin’—Seriously? That’s what she’s asking about? Tonight of all nights no less.

Sweetie clears her throat and puts on her serious face. Oh, this is gonna be good. “It’s… it’s intense,” she says. “I mean, it’s not like any kind of school I’ve ever heard of. I don’t really think it’s like any kind of school anywhere, actually. This isn’t about standardized testing or grade point averages.” She pauses and I can’t help but grin. She’s really trying to avoid rambling here. “It’s… hard to explain, because I don’t really understand it. Twilight has some odd thing set up, where I’m officially enrolled in Celestia’s school, but I’ve only set hoof there a couple of times—once when she took me on a tour of the academy and another when she had to stop by her office for some paperwork before heading here.”

She stops and scrunches her little muzzle up in a bit of a frown, contemplating what to say next. “I’ve tried asking her about it, but she always shrugs off my questions, or just changes the angle of discussion. Half the time I don’t even notice until a day later that she did it. In any case, the best term I’ve got for it is the one she’s always thrown around. She calls me ‘apprentice,’ and for a while I didn’t put any weight to it, ya know? But now?” She shakes her head, her locks swaying. “It seems the best fit.”

My brow wrinkles, and I can’t help but ask her: “But what about your music? Last time Ah saw ya, y’all’d just had your first show with Vinyl and Lyra. You were so excited; what happened to that?” I pause, flicking my tail. “Ah guess what Ah’m askin’, is what do ya want to do? Ah mean sure, ya can do both, but it seems like Twi’s askin’ an awful lot of your time...” I trail off, just kind of unhappy with my summation there, but I can tell she gets what I’m saying. She’s just not entirely sure how to answer. I can tell I’ve hit on something that she’s been trying to work out for a while now. She idly stirs her glass of iced apple juice for a moment, thinking about what to say.

“I… I’m not really sure, Bloom. I mean, yeah, I love singing, and I love the rush from being on stage. There’s nothing like it. But on the other hoof, what I’m learning with Twilight isn’t something most ponies will ever get a shot at. I mean, yeah, to us, she’s just Twilight, but if you think about it, I’m learning advanced practical magics and theory from Princess Celestia’s personal student. She’s the Archmage of Canterlot and a professor of the Canterlot University. That kind of opportunity is something a lot of students would kill for…” She trails off, more lost than she’s willing to admit. Fortunately for her, old friends don’t often need you to finish a sentence to know what you mean.

I arc a brow at her, leaning my chin on my hoof. “Sure, Sweetie. That sounds wonderful. So why don’t you sound as excited as you’re tellin’ me it should be?”

I smirk as her right eye twitches a little. Her tongue is completely tied at this point, so she settles for trying to glare at me. I respond with the most innocent expression I can muster—my eyes wide and lower lip out just a hair. Her stern expression melts like molasses on a hot day, and a light blush touches her cheeks. Looking suddenly down and away from me, I watch as she bites her lip before hastily smoothing out her expression. Taking a quick breath, she composes herself a bit. She straightens up and points a hoof at me. Uh oh.

“Okay, and what about you? You’ve been gone for like, six months, Bloom! Did you manage to ‘find what you were missing’ in Manehattan, or was your sister right?” I flush and watch an answering smirk tighten her muzzle. Damn.

“Er… both?” I answer with little half-shrug. “It’s true that Ah went there to stay with mah aunt an’ uncle for a bit, but it’s not like AJ said—that Ah expected to ‘find myself’ there or nothin’. Ah knew that was reachin’.”

I see Sweetie Belle frown at me, and I roll my eyes.

“An’ don’t go sayin’ that Ah was just tryin’ to get away from you girls or nothin’. Ya got no idea how much Ah missed y’all, but...” I stop, and we both cast a look out the window—a habit of making sure my sister’s nowhere about when I’m about to reveal something that I don’t want overheard. She leans forward, the anticipation practically radiating off her.

“Truth is,” I continue with a grin, “Ah was only at the Oranges’ for about a month.”

Her mouth drops open, and she nearly yells, “What?”

“Shhh!” I hiss at her. “Ya can’t tell mah brother or sister, Sweetie Belle! Ah’m not kiddin’ here. Ah. Will. Kill you!”

She gulps and scoots back a bit. “I-I… yeah, I promise, Bloom. Take it easy, geez.” My frown relents, and she lowers her voice to match mine, throwing another glance at the window as she speaks. “So what’s the deal? You seriously took off from your aunt and uncles’? Where did you go? What did you do?” Now that she asked, I can see her curiosity is completely burning her up. She looks torn between that an’ hardly believin’ I’m serious.

I draw in a deep breath, and begin talking again. “Well, ya remember when Ah first left, how fierce mah brother an’ sister were against it, right.” It isn’t a question; I know she remembers all too well how Applejack had exploded—my brother’s cold disapproval. I continue, “Well, Ah hate to admit it, but they were both right. They tried to warn me about the big city; they were scared that I was just a naive filly who’d soak up anything Ah was told…” I break off, a blush lighting my face as I rub a hoof behind my neck, repositioning the bright red bandanna that I wear now. “Well, they weren’t all wrong. Ah… learned a lot there, but Ah learned a lot of it the hard way. Ah got tired of mah aunt an’ uncle treating me just like Ah got treated back home. So… Ah took off. Ah got a job at a donut shop and mah own cheap apartment on the other side of the city.”

I look up, and she’s totally gaping at me at this point. I hurry on, just wanting to get this over with now, “It was… pretty seedy, Sweetie. Ah’ve never seen a place like that before. Ponies treat each other so differently. Ah had a couple a… bad encounters.” I chuckle, but it’s a stifled, choked sound, even to my own ears. “Ah still can’t believe that mah aunt didn’t write AJ an’ let her know. When Ah got back, Ah thought Ah was goin’ to have a lot more explainin’ to do.”

She leans forward again to dig more into somethin’ I'm really doing my best to gloss over, when we hear the sound of something hitting the roof. I shoot her a panicked look, silently begging her to drop it. She scowls at me, but I make my eyes go huge again—I’ve still got it—and she grudgingly nods. By her own look, I know this conversation is far from over.

Despite the sudden interruption—and Bloom trying to hide something major—I can’t help keep my eyes from lighting up at the sight of the orange-coated face that pops into the window, upside-down, her mane hanging toward the ground.

“Hey guys!” Scootaloo calls. “Bloom! It’s great ta see ya!” She flips down off the roof and flits into the window, practically tackling Apple Bloom. No, scratch that—full-on tackling Apple Bloom! Bloom lets out a startled yelp as she’s plowed over backwards, and the two erupt into laughter as they roll about on the floor. Heh. Perfect. I pluck up my glass from the table and lean back, sipping on the icy apple juice as I watch my two best friends—and their extremely well-toned flanks—wrestle each other for dominance across the floor of our old clubhouse. A wave of nostalgia floods through me, but settles oddly with the more... visceral anticipation I’m feeling.

It’s always been a toss-up when it came to a contest between Scoots and Apple Bloom, and I find myself engrossed in their contest—for more than one reason. As we grew older, Bloom developed a physical strength that was outright shocking to all of us. On the other hoof, Scoots had learned to use her powerful wings to advantage that neither Bloom nor I could ever get the hang of well enough to counter; every time she was off-balance to the point we ground-bound ponies would be sent tumbling, Scoots would just flap her wings and turn the tables. Not to mention her speed. Cheating. That’s what it came down to, every time. And she wonders why I bite.

The girls rear up on their back legs, locked at the hooves and panting fiercely. Struggling for position, they turn, and Scoots has her back to me. I catch Bloom’s eye and raise my brow. She blinks, grins, and collapses—taking a surprised Scootaloo over with her.

Scoots is lying atop Apple Bloom now, smirking down at her. “What’s the matter, Bloom? City life make ya soft?” she quips between huffs. I see Apple Bloom’s tail thrash at that, but she keeps silent, breathing heavily, her forehooves resting on Scootaloo’s hips. I can’t help but note that they look really nice, pressed together like that.

So nice, in fact, that I set my glass down and silently step toward them. I walk right over Scootaloo, my belly sliding against her back as I move over her, and she squawks in surprise, craning her neck to look up at me. She opens her mouth to say something, but I lower my head and bite down on her mane. Taken completely by surprise, she grits her teeth and groans. I can feel her struggling, but Apple Bloom is still holding her fast by the hips... and that’s when Bloom raises her knee. I watch in delight as Scootaloo’s eyes fly open wide, a shocked moan tearing from her throat as she writhes beneath me while atop of Apple Bloom. I can feel the confusion pouring off of my hapless lover. I’m so compassionate for her plight that I take her ear in my mouth and suck on the tip of it.

So, I’m understandably shocked when I find myself thrown over her, bucked clear into the air. Thankfully, my training kicks in and I snap-teleport myself out of mid-air and back onto my hooves. Scootaloo is hovering on the other side of the clubhouse, tears and anger in her eyes as she glares at Bloom and I, a furious blush on her face. The silence is strained and heavy. Scootaloo opens her mouth, and I can just feel my heart breaking at what she’s about to say, when I see her ear flick, and she whips her head around to the window. Instinctively, Bloom and I do the same. This wouldn’t be the first time Scootaloo’s incredibly keen senses have saved us all from getting busted. Although, granted, this time around the circumstances are... considerably different.

Scootaloo is staring fixedly out the window when I see a scowl contort her muzzle.

“What is it?” I ask. Apple Bloom is looking between us, confusion writ across her face.

“Trouble,” Scoots answers without even glancing back at me. “Come on.” With a fluid, almost feline grace, she’s out the window.

We break the treeline at a full gallop; Scoots is holding herself back to allow Bloom and I to keep up. The shouting voices become clearly distinct as we rush across the open field toward the large farmhouse: it’s Rainbow Dash and Applejack. The windows are glowing in the early evening, and it looks like every light on the house is on. Over the pounding of our hooves on the packed earth, I hear Apple Bloom utter a muffled curse. Churned earth in our wake, we slow to a trot as we approach the porch. Bloom’s brother is there, leaning back in his rocking chair, a large mug of cider cradled in his lap as he leans back. He takes us in, and flicks a glance to the front door before rolling his eyes and taking a long pull off his mug.

That’s when a chair comes crashing right through the large living room window.

Chapter 4

Moving On
Chapter 4

There are certain times when you just have to step back, and take a good long look at a really weird situation. Sometimes the world presents an exceptionally odd counterpoint to normalcy, or as close to normalcy as we like to consider our lives as being. Y’know, the whole day to day. An’ I have to admit, this is a really weird one. Yeah, even for me. Two seriously pissed off voices are shouting at one another inside the farmhouse, and there’s Apple Bloom’s big brother, just lounging back on the old porch rocking chair as it creaks back and forth, a jug of cider the size of my head firmly in hoof. This massive stallion just defines nonchalance, and for a moment I grasp that it’s no small wonder so many mares compete so… ardently, for his attentions. Although, I realize with a smirk, in a family like this his cavalier detachment can be a handy survival mechanism.

With a flutter of wind on my nape, Scoots touches down beside me. Apple Bloom steps forward, moving to trot up to her brother, and we fall in behind her. Or rather, I do. I pull up and glance back to see Scootaloo, who’s just standing there staring at the farmhouse with her mouth hanging wide open, her ears flared wide and canted forward. I can’t quite make out what’s being said, but it’s clear she can—pegasi have exceptionally honed senses of sight and hearing. I’m just deciding how best to snap her out of it when the sound of shattering glass whips my head around. There’s a chair, freshly burst from the living room window, sailing right at us. Along with a fair rain of really sharp glass.

Instincts. We never really appreciate them until—or maybe as much as when—they kick in. My horn flares and I throw up a wall of light between us and barrage, and I’m almost fast enough. Shards of glass flare as they burn to nothing against the barrier; the chair itself is sheared almost in half by the magic. I neatly sidestep the remaining half of flying wood—already preparing mental congratulations at the graceful move—and hiss at a sharp pain as a few shards of glass tinkle to the ground around me. Letting the barrier die out, I raise a hoof to my cheek, and it comes away wet and red from the small cut. Well. Awesome.

“Mac!” Bloom shouts as she runs up to the porch, a scowl painted across her face. “What in the hay is goin’ on?”

Big Macintosh waves a hoof in the general direction of the front door behind him. I see Apple Bloom roll her eyes as I hurry to trot up to her side, Scootaloo right behind me. The three of us line up in front of the door and share a look, the silent exchange pretty much going as such:

Are we really gonna do this?

Don’t see much choice.

How bad can it be?

Heh.

Whatever, let’s go.

That last from Scoots as she huffs and steps forward, shouldering the door open. The moment she does, we’re all nearly buffeted right back out by the sheer volume of the shouts within. The Apple family builds solid walls. Given the tone, level of noise, and ponies involved, I’m mildly surprised there isn’t a body count yet. I duck my head and whistle lowly, taking in the foyer: overturned chairs, pictures askew, and random household nicknacks sprawled about the oaken floors. My left ear flicks as Apple Bloom curses hotly.

Together, the three of us trot toward what promises to be a very interesting sight. Just before we round the hall and enter the battlefield, a flash of something bordering on reminiscence makes me smirk: our hooffalls are perfectly in sync. The three of us have been through so much together, from challenges to pitfalls, that this is just… what we do. It’s natural. Our hooves fall together, front to back, shoulders rolling as we canter forward. Even our tails are held at a similar angle, and despite what we’re about to stroll into, I feel a surge of joy—we’re together again. And then reality smacks me upside the head. At least we flinch back as one as we round the corner.

“How dare you! That was Granny’s favorite chair!”

“What?! You threw it!”

“An’ y’all dodged it, like a... like the snake ya are!”

Dash scoffs, tossing her mane. “Pheh, that the best you got, redneck? You couldn’t hit the barn right now!”

My muzzle makes an ‘O’ shape as I watch AJ’s face go red. “Redne—why Ah oughtta!”

Oh. Oh bugger. My head fills with a flurry of calculations and dates. It just occurs to me that Bloom might be trotting into a minefield she’s maybe-kinda unprepared for. She’s been gone for… six months, near about, back for less than a week. Dash an’ her sister have been ‘official’ for… just under five months. I mean, it’s not as though anypony who saw those two since the last forever didn’t know there was something between them… hell, the three of us used to joke about it all the time as fillies, and there was that one time Bloom rushed into the club house—her face crimson and a nervous twitch in her eye—babbling about having walked in on the two of them in the barn and… Huh. Never did get the details on that one, come to think of it.

Oh, right. Reality. I’m snapped right back to it as Applejack makes a literal rush at Rainbow Dash, only to be intercepted by Apple Bloom, who lunges forward into her sister’s path.

“AJ! What do ya think you’re doin’? Calm down! What’s come over you?!”

Applejack looks a mess, her eyes are red like she’s been crying, but the glower on her face is more suited to a mare about to beat the absolute hell out of somepony. Honestly, if she turned that glare on me, I’d be ‘porting right the hell outta dodge, but Bloom weathers it like a champ, just squaring up to her big sister and refusing to budge an inch.

I have to split my attention as Apple Bloom and Applejack begin to get into it, because from the corner of my eye, I catch the look of utter disgust scrawled across Scootaloo’s muzzle. Uh oh. This I hadn’t taken fully into account either—yes, I’m clearly batting a hundred today—and it could turn nasty. My mind goes into overdrive as I try to figure out some way to defuse this before it gets out of hoof. I suppose I could just teleport them all into the cow-pond out back; it’s not too far all things considered, but—and too late. My ears plaster back into my mane as I watch Scootaloo fluff up like an angry little hawk, trotting forward and shoving her face right into Rainbow’s.

“Dash, you’re freakin’ sloshed. Just calm down and relax,” she says, a fierce scowl painted across her face. Scootaloo hates it when Rainbow gets like this. There’s really nothing rational about it—she knows it, we’ve discussed it more than a few times—but she just holds the older pegasus to such a standard, even today, that Scoots just totally loses it when Dash gets like... this. Personally, I don’t get it; Rainbow enjoys a drink more than most, sure, but it’s not like she’s out of control about it. Well, I mean, usually.

Then Dash does just about the worst thing she possibly could have to my proud little lover. She utterly and completely ignores Scootaloo, making to move around her to confront Applejack again. She didn’t even glance at her.

“Hey!” Scootaloo yells, moving back in Dash’s way and shoving a hoof into her chest. “I’m talkin’ to you.”

There’s always been this… atmosphere of impressiveness about Rainbow Dash; I think a lot of it might be just in the way she carries herself, the strength of her personality and the sheer confidence she exudes so effortlessly. Then again, I’m sure being a Wonderbolt doesn’t hurt either. To a lot of ponies, she can be downright intimidating. To us, she’s family, but right now I’m kind of questioning if that’s gonna be enough, because the atmosphere between the two pegasi just took on an edge that overshadows even the messed up situation we rolled into.

Dash still has a good hoof or two on Scoots, and she uses it, drawing herself up to do that that cool arch-thing with her neck, her chest puffed out. I’ve caught Scoots trying to get that exact same look down in the mirror when she thought I was elsewhere. My throat goes dry as I watch those sharp red eyes narrow and turn down to glare at my lover. Her look somehow manages to convey complete superiority and utter disdain into a nice little package. She growls out: “You lost your mind, pipsqueak? Back offa me!” Rainbow lifts her hoof and shoves Scootaloo out of her way with a strength that’s so casual it’s almost scary.

Er... well shit. Where else would I rather be right now... mmm… yep, just about anywhere. My mind instantly conjures the best of all possible worlds: fresh out of a scented bath, leaning back into Scootaloo’s damp chest. Her wing soft beneath my hooves as I stroke the moisture from her long, sleek feathers. The slight, comforting tugs as she sweeps my favorite ivory brush through my mane. I can’t help but grin at the thought, despite the situation: brushing my mane was the most feminine indulgence Scoots had, and I was under very serious pain of death to never reveal it. Naturally, it was just one more thing to tease her with.

I take a step forward, but I have no idea what to do here. Apple Bloom and her sister are shouting over one another, looking just shy of getting physical. Scoots and Rainbow may as well be snarling as they circle each other. This was not the plan; this was not how things were supposed to go! My options at this point are pretty slim: Sweet Apple Acres is a good ten minute trot out of town, the Carrots would probably just laugh at the situation—friendly rivalry my flank—and Big Mac has every bit as much interest in getting involved in this as any sane stallion would in his position.

I jump up in little hop and land on all four hooves. “Stop it! All of you!” I yell, to absolutely zero effect. I see Dash rear up, her hoof raised high, and to be honest... I maybe sorta panic. A little. A flash of my horn later, and the room is dead silent, and it’s by this virtue that we can all hear the splash from out back.

Apple Bloom blinks. “Wh-what jus’ happened?”

Um. “I, uh, may have kinda teleported them both into the pond out back.” I offered a weak smile.

Bloom’s eyes go wide, her lips parting slightly and tail drooping between her legs. “Ya… ya mean the cow-pond?” Even her voice sounds pale. I manage a nod.

“Eh, we… we need to run. Now.”

“Yep!”

Honestly. I love these mares; they’re my family, each and every one, but sometimes, they can be a real bunch of idiots.

——

We’re trotting one of the thicker paths through the orchard, moving cautiously in the deepening night.

The cow-pond in which I had ‘deposited’ our older sisters wasn’t far, and we were now less concerned about the pair killing each other, as killing us.

We all freeze at a noise. Voices! Scoots looks about wildly. “Twelve! Number Twelve!” she hisses. We have eighteen reliable hiding places that have proven themselves over the years in saving our hides.

We dive into said hiding spot; a thick bush with plenty of crawl space under it. We creep to the edge, peeking through it.

Rainbow and AJ trot by, on the path to the clubhouse. They’re... not pleased. “C’mon, Dash, we’ll find em. Those fillies are gonna get a whippin’. If they’re not at the clubhouse, we’ll check Sweetie’s apartment, then Twi’s library. We’ll find em!”

Dash just growls.

Breathing a sigh of relief, we crawl out and dust ourselves off. Scootaloo keeps her ears perked and alert as we move off.

“At least we’re coming up behind em. They’ll get to the clubhouse first, then head out. Ah doubt they’ll be back this way.”

“Even if they do,” I offer, “I can throw up an illusion spell that’ll last for a few hours. It’ll make the place look empty and lock in any sound.”

We nod. Decent plan.

Along the way, Apple Bloom starts asking me questions. Given she keeps glancing around, I’m assuming she’s trying to distract herself from thoughts of her sister catching up to and tearing us to pieces, despite the plan and our near miss. I can roll with that. Recently learned battle magics aside, the thought of tangling with a semi-drunken and thoroughly pissed Rainbow Dash and Applejack sends a cold chill down my spine.

“So, Sweetie, I never did hear the story. How’d it go with your sister when you moved out?”

Damn. I take a deep breath, ignoring Scootaloo’s chuckle.

“Rarity, I’m moving out.”

Her tail was to me, but I saw her freeze; the magic of her horn flickered, and for a moment I thought she was going to let the glass of milk she was pouring fall to the tiles and shatter. My sister may be a lot of things, but a pony lacking in composure was not among them. Her magic solidified, and she cast me a sidelong glance. “I’m so sorry, my dear,” she said in that condescending, yet somehow lilting, tone of hers. “What was that now?”

“I said, my dear, I’m moving out,” I returned; I tried to contain my scowl.

Milk settled and forgotten on the counter, she turned to me, her bright eyes narrowed. “Sweetie Belle, do not take that tone with me. And don’t be silly. You’re hardly more than a filly, certainly not old enough to live alone. And where would you have to go? Darling, you don’t even have a job.”

Honestly, she was an impressive mare. She had gone from shocked to angry to utterly dismissive of my aspirations—and possibly more phases than I caught—in the space of a single monologue. I’d probably have been able to appreciate the talent more if my eyes hadn’t nearly crossed with anger at such a casual and insulting dismissal. Nevertheless, I was determined not to yell, stomp, or act like the foal she was so apparently convinced I was. I took a deep, steadying breath. “Sis, I’m not asking for permission here, or even help. I’m just letting you know, and... I wanted to say ‘thanks,’ for taking care of me, letting me stay with you. But I’m leaving. Tonight.”

Her eyes had gone wide somewhere in the middle of my speech. I guess she’d figured out I was serious and—oh my goddesses, she was about to cry. Buck everything.

“B-but, Sweetie, where will you go?”

And here we go. “I’ve... already got a place lined up.”

Her ear quirked. “Oh? Where at?”

“I’m moving in with Scootaloo.”

“...Oh. I see.” She frowned delicately. “Wait, you mean that little studio? Sweetie, there’s hardly room in that squalor for one pony, nevermind two! Where will you sleep?”

Don’t blush, be an adult. You got this. “Yeah... about that. Sis... Scoots an’ I are, um... together.” Did I just squeak?! I did! Damn it voice!

Rarity just stood there, staring at me blankly. Her eyes widened. “Oh. Oh! Oh my!” She raised a hoof to her muzzle. “Sweetie, are you—have you even...” She tittered. “Sweetie, I think before you take this rather forward step, we need to have a little talk. You see, when two mares love each other very, very much—”

I wrenched that damn bell down on my out of the Boutique, throwing it to the dirt as I ran. In retrospect, yelling at her just how many orgasms Scoots had given me the night before may not have been the most mature thing to have done.

Still chuckling at the density of our extended family, the three of us trot wearily up the old, familiar wooden ramp up to the clubhouse. As soon as I cross the threshold, I light my horn and cast four orbs that affix to the corners of the room, bathing the structure in a soft violet glow. Eyes lighting, I make a beeline for the pile of our shucked saddlebags in the far corner, while the others plop themselves down around the low table, chatting amiably.

With a feeling akin to triumph, I levitate out the contents of each, approvingly looking over the three full bottles of very hard cider. Unable to restrain myself, I very nearly skip back to the others, bottles and glasses in tow.

“Time to get soused!” I sing-song.

Their eyes light up as I take my place between them, the glass bottles settling down on the table with a clink. I look at my friends, and see a matching grin on their faces. Wasting no time, I uncork the first bottle, and pour us each a very generous amount. Three glasses are raised, meet with clink of glass, and are drained. Setting my glass down, I catch Scoots’ narrowed brow, and the challenging glint in her eye. Oh. It is so on. Sticking my tongue out at her, my horn flares as I snatch up the bottle and fill the cups to the brim.

Bloom raises her eyebrow but makes no complaint as we cheers and down the drink, the sweet amber liquid burning slightly and warming me from the inside.

Bloom coughs a little, and Scootaloo’s ears perk. “Hah, whatsa matter, Bloom? Can’t keep up with the big girls?”

Apple Bloom flushes and reaches up to loosen her bandana before growling, “Keep dreaming’ featherbrain!” She reaches out her hooves and snatches the entire bottle, taking a solid three-second pull straight from it before filling our glasses, all the while grinning at our pegasus friend.

Before I know it, we’ve drained two bottles, and my horn is being stupid, sparking and sputtering magic as I try to work loose the cork on the unopened bottle. The hell? Did they seal this thing with tar or something?! It certainly doesn’t help that my friends are being complete jerks, Scootaloo openly laughing at me, while Bloom has a hoof raised, trying to hide her smirk. What, they think I can’t—ah screw it. With a growl, I take the bottle between my hooves and bite down, my teeth sinking into the soft cork. I’m jerking my head back and forth as I wrestle the damned thing, doing my best to ignore the increased volume of my friends’ laughter. Bloom sounds like she’s about to lose it.

With a pop, the cork flies out, and I let loose a cry of triumph that quickly turns into a squeal of shock as the amber drink sprays me across the face. I fall back on my haunches in shock. Mouth hanging open, the cork drops to the ground and I raise my hooves to eye level, staring blankly. I’m soaked. My locks are hanging heavy and dripping a veritable deluge of alcohol. I blink, and realize both my so-called friends are not only immune to my suffering, but rolling on the damned ground laughing at me. Scootaloo’s holding her gut as she rocks back and forth on her side, and Bloom looks to be in physical pain and unable to breathe.

Heartless. Evil. Mares. I… vengeance!

I jump to my hooves and leap between them, shaking for everything I’m worth. They screech in a very satisfying manner as I share my drippy fate with them. I’m pretty sure I’m laughing maniacally as I lose all sense of balance and effectively faceplant on the floor. Whipping my head up to glare at her, Scootaloo freezes from her place on the ground. She tripped me! That little! Using my rear legs, as my front don’t seem to be functioning properly, I drive myself at her in a full tackle. Yelping, and maybe biting a little, we tousle about on the hardwood. We must have tumbled over Apple Bloom, because the next thing I know she’s mixed up in our rolling battle. Even drunk—and she’s totally drunk—Apple Bloom is stronger than Scoots and I put together, and before long she’s standing—how the hell does standing work again?—over the both of us. Scoots and I are pressed shoulder to shoulder staring up at her, her mane askew and tussled, her face delightfully flushed.

Frustrated, I huff at her, grab Bloom by the bright red bandana about her neck, and pull her face down for a kiss.

Scoots’ jaw is agape as she gives me a double-take look. She blinks, and then to my absolute horror she starts to almost tear up. “Are… Sweetie, are you leaving me? This is the way you tell me? I—“ She chokes off, her voice breaking and she grits her teeth. She looks torn between running away on the spot and smashing something. Knowing her, probably me.

In a panic, I wave both my hooves at her. “No, no no no! Scoots, gods no! It’s not like that! It’s—“ Ugh! Why can’t I just say it? I look up to Apple Bloom desperately. Yeah, fat load of good she’s gonna do; her face is as bright as her brother’s coat. Thanks a lot. I motion to her, and she backs up and sits down. I flail a bit, but manage to sit up elegantly enough, then reach over and help Scoots up as well. The three of us are sitting in a close circle, Scootaloo still looking between us with unadorned hurt in her eyes.

I stutter and mumble for a minute, pointing between the three of us until, thank Celestia, comprehension sparks in Scootaloo’s eyes. I see the wounded look wash away from her face, replaced by… caution? Disbelief? Something like that.

“Are you—“ She looks between Bloom and I, shell-shocked. “Are you both sayin’ you wanna… wanna herd?”

Oh gods, she just has to put it like that, doesn’t she. The three of us could probably immolate the entire orchard by sheer proximity of the heat radiating from our faces. Why is this so embarrassing to talk about? That’s exactly what I want, exactly what Bloom wants, and by the look on her face, a notion that Scoots is quickly coming to appreciate. So what the—

Scoots leans in and, to her credit, slurs only slightly. “Listen, Bloom, I just… I just wanna make sure you’ve thought this through, y’know? Like, our friendship is more important to me than anything, and I just don’t want anything to mess it up, or have anything come between us.” She pauses, casting me an inscrutable look. What the hell? I turn up my nose, and shakily levitate the one glass on the table that hasn’t been knocked over in our tumble.

“Besides, Sweetie has… um, heh, a bit of an appetite.”

I choke, half inhaling a sip of my cider. Excuse me?! She barrels on, not looking at me, but the tight grin on her muzzle says she’s damn well aware of the two tons of death-glare I’m leveling at her. Scootaloo is steadfastly avoiding making eye contact, but she waves a casual hoof in my general direction. “Like, this mare is like a camel in the desert, Bloom. Sometimes even I have a hard time keeping up with her.” I can feel my left ear beginning to twitch spasmodically. Dead. This pegasus was dead. Clipped, plucked, basted and roasted.

Bloom’s giving me a look. I smile weakly and give Scootaloo a little shrug, before leaning over, taking Bloom’s now startled face between my hooves, and pull her in. She squeaks in surprise, but her soft lips part, and before she can pull away, I push my tongue in her muzzle. Was I worried about her moving away? Suddenly I’m on my back, Apple Bloom is taking my hooves in hers and stretching my arms up above my head. Oh my. My head is swimming at the rich fullness of her lips; her strong form is moving, pressing down on me. I’m startled as she breaks away from me; I hear her yelp. Craning over her shoulder, I see Scootaloo is behind us, and she has Apple Blooms tail in her mouth; she’s just given the base of it a sharp yank. I meet Scootaloo’s eyes, and we share a grin.

In a flash, we have Bloom flipped to her back, spread eagled. Scoots has her hinds pinned, and I’ve got her arms securely held. I duck my head and go back to kissing her, but keep my eyes open so I can watch Scoots work. I know my mare. She’s nipping hard at the inside of Bloom’s thighs, making her way upwards, while running her hooves in rough strokes along her marks. Apple Bloom squirms and squeals delightfully into my mouth. Her breathing is getting ragged, and she lets out a long moan as Scoots really gets to work. A shock goes through me as Bloom raises a hoof, showing how considerate—and deft—she is.

I wake nestled between my two best friends in the entire world—curled up against my first lover, my legs intertwined with my new one. I smile dreamily, watching Apple Bloom snore softly and murmur in her sleep. She still has one of Scootaloo’s feathers stuck in her disheveled mane and—oh, I seem to be wearing her bandana. When did that happen? Oh, right. The blindfold. Scootaloo gives her traditional snort before beginning to stir herself, and for some reason blearily rubs at my flank.

We’re all beginning to rouse now, the bright sunlight of a crisp dawn pouring through the window, our minds—harmonious as ever—turning to the first glorious cup of coffee, when we hear a raucous scuffling from outside. Our eyes, one and all, snap wide in panic as we lie frozen, twined together in a rumpled mass of sensuous young mare, and four voices sound in unison as three fillies and a colt barrel into the clubhouse. “Cutie mark crusaders, ya—“ The kids tumble into a pile right over one another in shock at the sight of us, their oh-so-familiar chant cut off.

Well, hell.