Starts with F, Ends with L
Lyra knew one day she was going to get the Talk. You know, the talk. The one all couples are expected to have at some point. However, Lyra decided early in the relationship that this was future Lyra’s problem.
Future Lyra did not appreciate such a responsibility being foisted on her without permission. She therefore had a noticeably negative reaction when—to the minimal surprise of Past Lyra—Bon-Bon suddenly said those fatal words.
“I think we should have a foal.”
It took all of Lyra’s willpower to not flee with her tail between her legs. For one brief moment, she thought she might be able to get away with feigning deafness and crawling back into bed. It was way too early in the morning—optimal breakfast and grouching time—for this stuff.
Unfortunately, Bon-Bon had prepared for that. She was intentionally blocking the kitchen doorway to prevent escape.
Drat. Why hadn’t Lyra copied that one useful invisibility spell?
Plan B: Feign ignorance.
Lyra smiled her most innocuous smile which was, in fact, not at all innocuous.
“For dinner?” Lyra said. “Aren’t those high in fat?”
Bon-Bon sighed.
“You know what I mean,” she said. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”
Lyra had no idea how her frantically clutching her stuffed dinosaur in the midst of a nightmare somehow translated to “Foals are neat. Let’s have one”. That was the only incident she could think of that might have even slightly implied a foal was something Lyra was up for.
“I’ve been avoiding thinking about it actually,” Lyra said.
It helped that every time Lyra tried to think about it, it was chased off by thoughts of lunch.
“Well, I think we should have one,” Bon-Bon said. “The situation we’re in right now is perfect. We live in a safe community...”
Lyra opened the window, an incredulous look on her face.
“What, this disease-ridden Tartarus hole?” she said.
She paused to wave to Granny Smith through the window. Granny Smith—no doubt remembering the unfortunate incident with the avocado at the market last week—angrily shook a hoof at her. Lyra would defend her actions that day to her very last. It wasn’t like Granny Smith owned that particular avocado.
Bon-Bon continued as if she hadn’t heard.
“…...we’re both making a decent amount of bits…,” she went on.
Lyra shrugged.
“I wouldn’t say that,” she said.
Sure, they made enough to sustain Bon-Bon’s obsession with imported oats and Lyra’s love of rare books filled with forbidden knowledge, but that surely didn’t mean anything. More importantly, they’d have to pry Lyra’s copy of The Neponynomnomicon out of Lyra’s cold dead hooves.
“…...we have enough free time….,” Bon-Bon continued.
Lyra snorted. Free time? Hardly! With all the reading and summoning Lyra did, she hardly had any time to eat, let alone take care of a foal.
“...and we’re both responsible,” Bon-Bon concluded.
Lyra rolled her eyes.
“No, you’re responsible,” she corrected. “When was the last time that applied to me?”
Bon-Bon had no counter-argument for that. She therefore moved on quickly to the next point.
“We even have that spare room we’re not doing anything with!” she said.
Lyra looked highly offended.
“Maybe you’re not doing anything with it,” she said. “Where am I supposed to keep my bloodstone circle and ritual talismans?”
Bon-Bon facehoofed.
“Look, if we’re going to have a foal, we have to make some sacrifices,” she said.
Lyra pouted.
“I don’t see you sacrificing anything,” she said.
Bon-Bon opened her mouth, then closed it. Dammit, Lyra had a point. That was rare.
“I’ll give up my baking room,” Bon-Bon said after a moment.
Lyra raised her eyebrows. Bon-Bon was willing to give up her baking room? Sweet Celestia, she must really be serious about this foal thing. This in itself was bad news for everypony involved, particularly Lyra herself.
“Can’t we talk about it some other time?” Lyra suggested. “You know, like a few years from now?”
Bon-Bon stomped her hoof hard enough to shake the floor.
“Or we could talk about it right now,” Lyra said hastily.
Lyra was able to fend Bon-Bon off for another week. Sometimes it was as easy as suggesting they have a nice dinner out. Other times Lyra was forced to be a little more creative.
“You know that thing you’ve always wanted to try in bed?” she once asked in desperation. “Well, I think I might be into it after all!”
It took several hours before Lyra could bend her back hooves again, but it was worth it. Anything was worth not having The Talk. Granted, scraping all the glitter off the walls was no picnic. Lyra also had to make sure to return the hoofcuffs and party hats to Pinkie Pie by the end of the day. Pinkie was a real stickler for deadlines.
However, at the end of the week it was clear Bon-Bon had caught on. When Lyra tried to deflect the discussion, Bon-Bon simply doubled down. If she started out talking about the pitter-patter of little hooves, you can bet she ended by talking about the joys of family vacations and family pictures with a newborn foal.
Regardless, the more Bon-Bon talked about having a foal, the more Lyra tried to talk her out of having a foal.
“Did you hear about that one mare who accidentally mailed her foal to Canterlot?” Lyra would say. “The foal ended up working as a Royal Guard by the time they were five. Do you really want that kind of life for our foal?”
“That’s an urban legend,” Bon-Bon would reply.
Lyra didn’t know about that. Didn’t they say fog demons were an urban legend after all? Lyra knew for a fact those were real. She had some trapped in a mason jar in her bedroom. The smell was horrendous, but it was worth it. Never again would Lyra pay a whole ten bits for a used fog machine.
One thing that could have brought on Bon-Bon’s sudden foal madness was the announcement. A few months ago, several major newspapers had reported the birth of the first royal foal in centuries. Bon-Bon wasn’t the only victim. Lyra had seen an increasing number of pregnant mares ever since Princess Flurry Heart’s birth. The idea of Bon-Bon joining them made Lyra feel physically ill.
“How would we even have a foal of our own if we don’t adopt?” Lyra tried to argue.
Bon-Bon had looked her dead in the eye with an uncompromisingly serious expression.
“Magic,” she had said.
Well, who could argue with that?
Bon-Bon’s obsession with foals only seemed to grow with time. Several weeks after the initial question, Lyra came home to find Bon-Bon re-painting the “spare” room. This wasn’t that unusual in itself. However, Lyra couldn’t say she’d ever expressed a fondness for polka dots and murals of baby elephants.
“How about a compromise?” Lyra suggested.
She was standing in the doorway with a forced smile on her face.
Bon-Bon spat out the paintbrush in her mouth. She was reasonably suspicious. Lyra’s “compromises” usually ended with missed dinner plans or a zompony attack.
“How about instead of a real foal….,” Lyra began.
Bon-Bon raised a hoof to stop Lyra. She knew exactly where this was going.
“For the third time, we are not adopting that floating eyeball that spouts riddles,” she said. “Where in Tartarus are we even going to get five virgin sacrifices?”
It was Lyra’s turn to be insistent.
“Come on, Bonny!” Lyra begged. “Every good home needs a floating eyeball created from the recycled souls of the lost.”
Bon-Bon sighed. What was with Lyra’s obsession with floating eyeballs? Sometimes Lyra was just too much. Keep in mind that this sentiment came from a mare who was forced to buy milk from Canterlot due to a particularly bad incident involving Lyra and a possessed pair of shoes.
“How is that a compromise?” Bon-Bon demanded. “It’s just something you want.”
Lyra had no answer for that. She was sure she could bring Bon-Bon around eventually. Hadn’t Bon-Bon been skeptical about Lyra’s collection of stone obelisks when they first started dating? However, at some point Bon-Bon had come to accept the chanting and the sudden gusts of wind only she could feel.
“Well if we can’t agree, what are we supposed to do?” Lyra asked.
Bon-Bon sighed again.
“What we always do,” she said. “Ice cream.”
Unfortunately, there are some things ice cream can’t fix. In particular, there are two things Lyra knew ice cream couldn’t fix: Ancient curses involving livestock and situations that defied compromise. Granted, those two were kind of one in the same.
As Lyra licked whipped cream off her hoof, she eyed Bon-Bon across the table. Neither of them had said anything to each other all evening. Lyra usually enjoyed silence because it allowed her to read her books of forbidden text in peace, but this time Lyra could feel Bon-Bon’s frustration. Lyra wanted to say something and make it all better, but what in Tartarus could she say?
Bon-Bon felt the same way, but with an extra dose of anger. She thought she’d put up with an awful lot in their relationship. Lyra had dragged her to poetry readings, parties, and necromantic rituals. Bon-Bon had missed birthdays, lost recipes, and fallen into other dimensions due to Lyra’s antics. Bon-Bon didn’t feel as if Lyra automatically owed her a foal, but she did feel as if Lyra was being unreasonable with her outright opposition to the very idea.
What do I even see in her? Bon-Bon wondered.
Lyra had her head titled back, an entire container of ice cream placed firmly over her muzzle. Feeling Bon-Bon’s eyes on her, she lowered her head and allowed the half-empty container to fall to the table.
“What?” she mumbled, mouth full.
Bon-Bon shook her head. She wondered if her mother was right. Maybe she should have married that cute doctor who patched her up after that top secret mission went south. At the very least, Bon-Bon would have been able to expect some level of actual argument when she brought up a foal.
“Nothing, dear,” Bon-Bon said. “Nothing.”
Lyra gulped. She didn’t want to sleep on the couch that night, but she thought it might be ideal. Bon-Bon was known to kick, punch, and throw things—and ponies—in her sleep when she went to bed mad. Lyra would have liked a good cuddle that night, but she didn’t think it was worth the risk of ending up with her head through a window.
Bon-Bon watched as Lyra returned to loudly gulping and slurping her ice cream. Bon-Bon had lost her appetite a while ago and wasn’t sure she was going to get it back.
Bon-Bon prided herself on always having a back-up plan. She didn’t exactly have one for this situation, but after a lonely night in bed she decided she’d better do something. While Bon-Bon didn’t want to keep pressuring Lyra until their relationship inevitably broke, she did want to gently demonstrate why her point of view wasn’t entirely flawed. Bon-Bon decided the best way to do this was by showing Lyra how delightful foals were.
Lyra reluctantly agreed over breakfast. However, she insisted on taking one of her amulets with her. She didn’t think she’d need it, but better safe than abducted by a race of super intelligent plants. That hadn’t been Lyra’s worst birthday, but it made the Top Ten.
The first place Bon-Bon took Lyra that day was the hospital. The two mares joined the crowd of parents watching their newly delivered foals through the nursery’s window.
“Aren’t they cute?” Bon-Bon said.
Lyra squinted.
“Aren’t they a little small?” she said. “How is something that tiny supposed to protect itself against void creatures?”
Bon-Bon face-hoofed.
“You do realize there would be no more shouting challenges into the endless void between universes if we had a foal, right?” she said.
Lyra’s mouth dropped open.
“Then where the buck am I supposed to get our oranges?” she demanded.
Bon-Bon rolled her eyes.
“From the market like the rest of us,” she said.
Lyra pouted.
“Sure, if you want to do it the hard way,” she said.
Bon-Bon rolled her eyes again. Some things were just never going to get through Lyra’s thick skull. If that was the case, Bon-Bon had a feeling she wasn’t going to get through to Lyra at the hospital. A new tactic was needed.
This new tactic brought Lyra and Bon-Bon to the local baby supply store. Bon-Bon didn’t believe it would be as effective as seeing newborns, but she thought it might sway Lyra a little.
“Isn’t this the most adorable crib you’ve ever seen?” Bon-Bon said.
Lyra trotted over to the crib Bon-Bon indicated. She bent over, brushing a hoof across the bars. Lyra frowned. She turned back to Bon-Bon with a puzzled look on her face.
“Um, where’s the force field and carvings to ward off entities of unspeakable horror and pain?” she said.
Bon-Bon thought for a minute.
“It has bars,” was the best she could come up with.
Lyra stamped her hoof angrily.
“Bars?” she said. “Bars? Bars aren’t going to protect a foal from anything!”
Lyra slammed her hoof against the bars, an expression of contempt on her face.
“There isn’t even an anti-curse seal to keep away disembodied voices from the bowels of lands beyond our meager imaginations,” Lyra said.
A sales clerk—a tired-looking stallion with thick glasses—came up to them.
“May I help you two?” he asked.
Lyra leaned into the crib and tapped the sheets.
“What kind of wood is this?” Lyra asked. “Is it made from trees inhabited by the forever content animal souls claimed by a forgotten forest?”
The clerk sighed boredly.
“No, it’s oak,” he said.
Lyra dragged Bon-Bon out of the shop right there and then. She could abide cutting corners up to a point, but that was simply shoddy workmanship at its worst.
The next stop was the toy store.
Apparently Bon-Bon’s foal fever hadn’t disminished even a little. The moment she stepped into the toy store, she was seized by the desire to buy everything.
Lyra trailed behind Bon-Bon with an annoyed expression. She didn’t want to say anything in fear of starting up another argument, but the sooner Bon-Bon denounced having a foal the better. Oh well. Maybe if Lyra didn’t say anything about it, it would fix itself in time.
“Oooh, look at this one!” Bon-Bon squealed. “No, look at this one! Wouldn’t they love this one?”
Bon-Bon was dashing from shelf-to-life in an admittedly Lyra-esque manner, pulling out toys and excitedly showing them off.
Lyra stood a little ways back rolling her eyes.
Like a foal in a candy shop, she thought.
Lyra was examining some of the toys herself, but they served only to increase her disdain. Ponies called these “toys”? Where were the mini cannons and good luck dolls? Where were the bone shard pendants and fury stones? Lyra didn’t know much about modern foals, but she was sure her own foalhood had been a lot more exciting. Foals apparently didn’t play Hide and Chant anymore.
Bon-Bon pointed a hoof at a massive display of stuffed animals.
“Isn’t that stuffed turtle the cutest?” she said.
Lyra looked uncertain.
“Turtles kind of freak me out,” she said. “Don’t they have anything less creepy, like a baykok?”
Bon-Bon sighed.
“It wouldn’t be for you,” she said. “It would be for our foal.”
Nevertheless, Bon-Bon gestured towards the display again.
“That butterfly is pretty adorable,” Bon-Bon said.
Lyra shuddered.
“Butterflies are so weird,” she said. “Why does everypony think they’re cute?”
Bon-Bon face-hoofed. She hadn’t expected Lyra to be this difficult about toys of all things.
“Says the mare who once flirted with a kelpie,” Bon-Bon pointed out.
Lyra blushed.
“It was hitting on me,” she argued. “Did you see the look it gave me? It totally wanted some action.”
Bon-Bon decided not to revive the whole “that kelpie was into me” debate. They’d managed to stay away from it for a whole two years.
“I know you don’t want a foal, but you don’t have to be so contrary,” Bon-Bon said. “Will you at least try, really try, to see this from my point of view?”
Bon-Bon wasn’t aware she was raising her voice. She wouldn’t have cared either way. Bon-Bon could feel her frustration towards Lyra bubbling to the surface. In a way, this wasn’t merely about the foal. This was about every single thing Lyra had done wrong since their relationship started. It was a long list.
“You won’t even entertain the idea,” Bon-Bon complained. “You keep shooting it down like my feelings are no big deal.”
Lyra found herself feeling very tiny all of the sudden. She was used to Bon-Bon getting mad at her, but this felt like actual relationship-ending rage.
“You think I don’t care about your feelings?” Lyra said in a small voice.
Bon-Bon laughed bitterly.
“I’m starting to think you don’t care about me,” she said.
Her eyes started to fill with tears.
“Tell me the truth,” Bon-Bon said. “Am I just a “friend” to you?”
Lyra was shocked. How could Bon-Bon think that? She knew she often referred to Bon-Bon as a “friend” or “best friend”, but that was their thing, wasn’t it? However, if Bon-Bon had to ask, maybe Lyra hadn’t made their relationship one hundred percent clear.
“B-B, I…,” Lyra started.
The sound of approaching cart wheels interrupted Lyra. Her and Bon-Bon turned with astonished expressions towards the noise. They watched in utter shock as a foal—seemingly using her own magic—came speeding across an aisle. The cart and foal hit the display Lyra and Bon-Bon had been looking at. The display collapsed as the cart smashed into it, sending down an avalanche of stuffed animals atop the laughing foal.
“What in Tartarus?” Bon-Bon said.
Lyra nudged Bon-Bon and winked.
“Language,” she reprimanded teasingly.
A purple alicorn both of them instantly recognized galloped over to the mess, baby dragon and store clerk right on her hooves.
Spike pulled back a stuffed monkey to reveal a giggling alicorn foal.
Bon-Bon almost said “What in Tartarus?” again, but stopped herself. She stared at the mess before them, flabbergasted.
“Is that Princess Flurry Heart?” she said.
Lyra laughed as she too recognized the new royal baby.
“She reminds me of me at that age, except with less chaos scepters and chanting,” Lyra said.
Bon-Bon’s face paled. She turned to look at Lyra for a minute, then her eyes snapped back to Flurry Heart and the mess Flurry Heart had made. Images directly from her nightmares were coming into Bon-Bon’s mind. Lyra was still speaking, her words seemingly magnified in Bon-Bon’s mind.
“I was only about her age when I summoned my first blood demon,” Lyra went on. “A month later I was sacrificing my stuffed animals to ancient gods of uncertain power. Good times. I was so innocent back then.”
Bon-Bon turned to Lyra with an utterly terrorstruck expression.
“On second thought, who needs foals?” Bon-Bon said. “We have each other and that’s what matters.”
Bon-Bon wrapped a hoof around Lyra and pulled her close. She gently nuzzled her side.
“You’re all I need,” she said.
Lyra sighed with relief. Her summoning room was saved.
Lyra and Bon-Bon left the toy store smiling. However, Lyra couldn’t help but keep glancing at Bon-Bon as they made their way home. She wanted to believe this was the end of the whole matter, but a nagging part of her kept insisting it wasn’t. Bon-Bon had given up a little too easy for Lyra’s taste. Did Bon-Bon still want a foal to some extent, but had simply given up on it ever happening? Even after the day’s events, did Bon-Bon’s foal fever remain tucked away in some distant part of her mind waiting to send their relationship into turmoil?
Lyra nudged Bon-Bon’s side with her hoof to stop her.
“What’s on your mind, B-B?” she asked.
Bon-Bon smiled at the pet name.
“Nothing,” she said.
Lyra didn’t buy that for a second. You don’t sleep in the same bed as somepony for years and not notice when they’re one wrong word away from tears.
“Is it about the best friend thing?” Lyra said. “You know I think of you as more than a friend, right?”
Bon-Bon looked away.
So it was the best friend thing. Lyra almost burst out laughing in relief.
Bon-Bon gently took Lyra’s face in her hooves, her expression turning affectionate. Now that Bon-Bon thought about it, she knew exactly what she saw in Lyra. She saw a mare who’d opened up a portal directly into her heart. Well, she saw that and a mare who’d literally opened up a portal and accidentally unleashed an army of sentient statues on an unsuspecting village. Once the villagers had been given amnesiacs and the records altered, Bon-Bon couldn’t help but think about the green mare who’d eluded the authorities during the chaos. Bon-Bon had thought of Lyra both because it was her duty and because of the brief realization that—as far as wanted felons went—Lyra was pretty damn cute.
“You’re my best friend,” Bon-Bon said. “I couldn’t live with myself if we were apart. If you’re really against having a foal, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do.”
Lyra tenderly slid a hoof under Bon-Bon’s chin.
“You’re supposed to trust me when I say our lives are better off without,” she said. “You might think this is the right decision now, but who knows how you’ll feel if it happens.”
Bon-Bon sighed sadly. So this was where it all ended. She couldn’t say she was going to regret her choice, but she felt the ride wasn’t entirely worth the lackluster result.
“I trust you,” Bon-Bon said.
Bon-Bon and Lyra embraced. They clung to each other for several minutes, ignoring the ponies around them complaining about how they were blocking the street.
When they finally broke away from one another, Bon-Bon reached up to wipe tears from her eyes.
Lyra looked concerned.
“Are you okay?” she said.
Bon-Bon smiled—a genuine smile—and nodded. She might never have a foal, but at least she had Lyra. That was almost like having a foal, right? Granted, there was a lot more necromancy and time travel than would usually be expected with a foal. Weirdly enough, Bon-Bon felt it was better this way.
Lyra wrapped her hoof around Bon-Bon and pulled her close.
“Ice cream and a nap?” Bon-Bon proposed.
Lyra grinned and nodded.
“Ice cream and a nap,” she said.
Normally Lyra would have preferred ice cream and three hours of exploring rips in space and time, but it had been a long day. More importantly, what’s a relationship without compromise?
Did I remember to exorcise the toaster this morning? Lyra wondered.
She shrugged. It was probably fine.
