Heteropaternal Superfecundation

by Thornquill

Rating: teen
Tags: Starlight Glimmer, Sunburst, Mr. Cake, Sex, Mrs. Cake, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Sad, Other, Romance, Drama
Length: 96558

When Sugarcube Corner burns down, Sunburst & Hoops are the last ponies that ought to be affected. But if the past can't be buried again, even Ponyville's model family may be shattered forever.

“Sometimes, you can’t have the family you want. Even if you’d give anything for it.”

For Sunburst, risen from obscurity to Court Wizard of the Crystal Empire, life has taken an incomparably good turn. Shining Armor and Cadence have almost become a second family to him, and Princess Flurry Heart like the daughter he never had.

Hoops, by contrast, has lived life on his terms since day one. With flight school behind him, his career in the professional leagues ought to be all but guaranteed—if only the pros would let him in already.

And when Sugarcube Corner burns down, it should not affect either of them.

Yet, when façades start to fracture, their connections to Ponyville's model family will threaten even the most sacred bonds. Before long, Sunburst, Hoops, and the Cakes will all have to decide if the past can be buried again, or if the old, comfortable stories just aren't enough anymore. In only one way, they are all alike: To get what they want, they are all willing to risk shattering every life around them—and maybe even their own.

Audio version by the immensely talented Neighrator Pony here!

Original story concept co-developed with Astro Brony and Obabscribbler. This story would not exist without them.

Special thanks to my beta readers: Luna Farrowe, Neighrator Pony, Chaotic/Sojourner, and AShadowOfCygnus, whose encouragement and guidance made publishing this a reality.

Cover art by UrbanQhoul.

Published 2018-02-01 22:00:06 UTC
Last updated 2018-05-17 23:09:52 UTC

Chapter 2 - Ashes and Aspersions

Sunburst winced as he stepped off the train and into the sunlight. Even at the edge of winter, the air seemed thick with humidity and heat, and for a moment, he had to catch his breath as other passengers emptied onto the platform. The carriage hadn’t acclimated fast enough to prepare him for the full force of the southern heat.

Less than a year... is the climate of the Empire really so different? He had never expected to become so accustomed to the cold, clear air of the mountains; not to the point where it would make such a difference. But whatever the reason, he was glad he had left his cloak behind. He needed to stay relatively inconspicuous for this trip, and on top of making him stand out, the heavy garment would have only added to his discomfort in this weather.

His glasses slid down his muzzle a little, and he scowled as he nudged them back into place. A thin film of sweat was already starting to form on his coat. Wonderful, he thought. Not ten minutes in, and already losing composure. Keep it together, Sunburst. This is important.

He took a deep breath and started to make his way down the platform. There weren’t many ponies, but compared to the near-constant silence of the Crystal Empire station, it felt like a clamoring crowd. That, at least, helped to keep his nerves in check a little. The more ponies he blended in with, the less chance there was that his coming here would lead to trouble.

Especially with Starlight nearby, he thought, not for the first time. His eyes were drawn to the bright blue starburst spire in the distance, shining in the afternoon sun. So long as I avoid the castle, no one else here should pay much attention to me. Sorry, Starlight… I’ll make it up to you.

Turning away from the spire, he instead fixed his gaze on the much more humble wooden tower of town hall. If his memory served—and it had rarely failed to date—Sugarcube Corner stood right at the forefront of the town square. Or… used to stand. With a shadow of fresh apprehension falling over his heart, he braced himself for what he might find and set out for the center of town.

When he got there, his heart fell into a stone-cold pit. On the far side of the square, nearly hidden from his initial entry by the enormous city hall, was a blackened skeleton of a building. It was nothing more than a few shattered frames clawing at the sky, as if frozen in its last death throe. The ground around it was strewn with ash and debris. It looked like nothing so much as a campfire pit, grotesquely enlarged. Crumbly, brittle coals were now all that remained of furniture and the few pieces of timber that hadn’t been totally consumed by the blaze.

Even now, days later, there were several ponies picking their way carefully through the wreckage, searching for anything that could be salvaged from the tragedy. Sunburst thought he recognized one of Starlight’s friends, an orange Earth Pony with a blond mane and tail named Applejack. She usually wore a hat, he recalled, but she had eschewed it today in favor of tying her hair up with a bright red bandanna. He could see even from a distance it was stained with soot.

Then, as he looked around at the sad ruin, he spotted her. If Applejack had been dirtied by the job, it was nothing compared to what Cupcake looked like. Her normally flouncy, bright mountain of a mane was tied tight behind her head, and there was hardly an inch of her frosting-blue coat that wasn’t blackened with soot. She had clearly wiped her face several times during the day, leaving long, dark streaks around and beneath her eyes.

He swallowed. At least he didn’t have to look for her. So much for the easy part. But there was nothing for it now. He was here to do what he could, and now it was time to do it. Taking a deep breath, he finished crossing the square and started entering the circle of ash.

Cupcake was sifting through a small pile of detritus. The whole lot seemed burned beyond recognition, and Cupcake was tossing aside piece after piece of ruined belongings with the quiet despondency of someone just grateful to be alive. She didn’t notice when he stopped a few paces away from her. He bit his lip, shuffled his hooves, and tried to find the words to let her know he was there. The silence was long past awkward when he finally gave up hoping she would just notice him and spoke up.

“Hello, Cupcake.”

When she turned to regard him, her expression was merely quizzical. As recognition sparked into them, however, her eyes widened in horror. She snapped a few quick looks behind, left, and right, then closed the distance between them in two quick strides. Before he could blink, she had his foreleg in an iron vice of a grip and was dragging him towards a woodshed built in the side of a nearby cottage.

“Don’t. Say. Anything,” she hissed. In another moment, she had thrown the latch of the shed, opened the door, and shoved him inside so quickly that he was barely able to stop himself from crashing into the opposite wall. It was surprisingly roomy for a woodshed. A precariously heaped pile of logs leaned against the right wall, leaving enough room for two ponies to stand a few feet apart. Cupcake was inside now, and with a last glance around at the outside, she pulled the door shut and turned to him with an expression of incredulous anger.

“What in Tartarus are you doing here?” she demanded. “I asked if you would help, not come here yourself! Do you have any idea what would happen if someone saw you? You promised me you would stay away from Ponyville!”

“I had to,” Sunburst protested, dusting himself off and frowning at the dark, sooty mark she had left where she grabbed him. “You can’t just tell me Sugarcube Corner burned down and expect me to sit in another country, hoping you’re all okay! …She is okay, right?”

“She’s fine,” Cupcake said through gritted teeth. “As I told you in the letter.”

“No, you didn’t,” Sunburst countered, allowing himself to narrow his eyes just a little. He reached back into his saddlebags, pulled out the folded note, and held it out towards Cupcake. “You were careful enough to remind me of why I should stay away, that much is for sure. But you didn’t say one word about whether Pumpkin had been hurt or not.”

He watched as she took the letter and glanced over it. After a few moments, he knew by her grimace that she hadn’t found anything in the letter she could use to argue with him.

“I’m sorry,” she said reluctantly. “You’re right. I should have said more to assure you Pumpkin was safe. I guess I just thought you would assume it in the absence of bad news.” She crumpled the letter up into a tight wad, then glanced around as if looking for somewhere to dispose of it. Finding nothing, she tucked it into the fringe of her apron. “Well. Now you know Pumpkin is fine.” She opened her mouth, then shut it again, looking frustrated. Sunburst wondered if she wanted to tell him it was time for him to leave, but also wanted to ask if he would help. She probably didn’t know how to ask that ugly question.

“Cupcake, you know I would help. I want to. But it’s not that simple.”

Immediately, the expression of doubt vanished from Cupcake’s face. Her eyes narrowed, but otherwise she assumed a front of cool stoicism. “If you don’t want to help, I already told you that you just need to say so, Sunburst. I’m not going to try to extort any help from you. You don’t need to lie.”

“It’s not a lie, Cupcake.”

“Really? The court wizard of the Crystal Empire doesn’t have a bit to spare from his royal income for his homeless—” Her voice broke off at the last word. She worked her jaw angrily, apparently unable to put shape to sound. Or unwilling. Sunburst decided it didn’t matter and pressed on.

“I don’t have an income anymore,” Sunburst protested.

Cupcake’s eyes hardened to flint. “What kind of lie is that supposed to be? Do you really expect me to believe Princess Cadence and Prince Armor don’t pay you anything for your services? That you’re living hoof-to-mouth in a shack outside the crystal palace or something?”

“I don’t have any kind of separate holdings, is what I’m trying to say,” Sunburst explained. “As court wizard, I’m attached directly to the royal treasury, the same as Cadence or Shining. Anything I need to pay for gets invoiced directly to the Empire. I don’t have a private bank account, or savings, or anything like that anymore. And every bit that comes and goes from the treasury is reviewed quarterly by Princess Cadence.”

That broke through to Cupcake. Her eyes widened, and her face went a little pale. “Oh.”

“Exactly. I didn’t think you’d want that,” Sunburst confirmed. “They give me a pretty free rein when it comes to personal expenses. But if I suddenly spend tens of thousands of bits to buy a building in Ponyville, they’re going to notice, and they will be very curious about it.”

It was clear she didn’t miss the implication. The Princess of Love was the absolute last pony in the world Cupcake would want poking into her affairs. Financial or otherwise, Sunburst thought with a bitter grimace. “And they have to consider avoiding appearances of favoritism by the Crown, too. Which, I’m guessing, is what Princess Twilight told you. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have needed to risk writing to me.”

“…yes.” Her shoulders slumped, and she shrank as her weariness and the dashing of another plan caught up with her. It might have been Sunburst’s imagination, but he thought her colors actually faded a little bit in front of him. “The Princesses can’t just rebuild entire properties for individual families… otherwise, why can’t they do it for everyone, or why can’t they build things for free in the first place, yada yada…”

She sighed again and shook her head. “She has us working with some charities in town, and Applejack’s and Rarity’s families are helping as much as they can. But with living expenses, it’s nowhere near enough to rebuild. That’s neither here nor there, though. I’m sorry, Sunburst. I should have realized you’d be bound by the same constraints. I just assumed you were distant enough, and… I figured a court wizard would be pretty rich. That you might not miss a little extra.”

Sunburst grimaced. “I could try to help a little with living expenses. But even a few hundred bits going to Ponyville without explanation risks making her curious. At the very least, I figured I ought to make sure you knew that first.”

“No, you’re right. I can’t take that chance.” She gave him a rueful smile. “Well. I guess it’s up to us still. You should probably leave, then. The longer you’re here, the riskier it is.”

“Actually,” Sunburst said, “I did have another idea.”

Cupcake looked up at him, hope guarded closely by suspicion. “What?”

* * *

Applejack tilted her head, her brow furrowed quizzically as she stared at the shed. It had been almost ten minutes now since Cupcake had yanked Sunburst, of all ponies, inside. What is he doing in Ponyville? And what the hay are they doing in there?

Something strange was definitely going on.

* * *

Sunburst had known Cupcake would not like the idea, so he wasn’t surprised when her face hardened into a mask of anger almost instantly. “Bring another pony into this mess? Are you crazy? This is killing me every night with just you involved!”

“What other option do you have?”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Cupcake ground out. “I never even knew who he was. I don’t even remember… I don’t remember anything about it. So whoever he was, he’s gone for good.”

“I found him,” Sunburst said quietly. He shied away from her a little as he braced for what came next.

He was not disappointed. By her expression of startled rage, he was certain she was only a moment or two away from charging and trying to pummel him. “You did what?” she hissed, every syllable of screaming fury compressed into a steam-hot whisper. “Why? And how in Tartarus could you possibly find some random pony from Las Pegasus?”

“I’m good at research,” Sunburst explained, shrinking back from her a little more. “And I saw him that night as I was leaving. He was wearing a Cloudsdale Weather Academy letter jacket. I remembered that much when I came looking for you. And when I got your letter… I realized he might be able to help. So I cross-referenced the Weather Academy yearbooks with the guest lists from that night and worked it out.”

“How the hay did you get guest records? Those are private! And it was more than two years ago!”

“Turns out, there aren’t any laws protecting hotel records,” Sunburst said. He couldn’t help a small, proud smile in spite of the gravity of the situation. “They didn’t ask any questions when the court wizard of the Crystal Empire asked to review a broad list. And they keep records for up to five years, so.”

“Well, whatever. Thank you for your diligence, Sunburst,” she spat, “but you shouldn’t have bothered. I’m not risking bringing anyone else into this.”

“I already wrote to him.”

When Cupcake turned back to him, Sunburst knew she wanted to murder him. “…what?”

This time, however, he didn’t shy away. Instead, he met her glare with a frown of his own. “He deserves to know, Cupcake. You shouldn’t have tried to keep it from me, and you shouldn’t keep it from him. And you need the help.”

“You know what I don’t need?” she said, stepping closer to him. Sunburst felt his ears reflexively fall flat. Cupcake never seemed to yell. That was the scariest thing. As the danger built, she simply got quieter. It was like watching the tide go out before a hurricane rolled in, and Sunburst knew he was very, very close to the storm.

“What I don’t need are stallions I don’t even know deciding they suddenly get a say in what happens to my family. Have you ever once thought about what will happen if Carrot finds out what happened that night? I’ll lose him. And then Pumpkin and Pound will spend their foalhoods in court while a bunch of crusty old judges decide which of their fathers gets to spend the next weekend with them. And the only thing anypony will agree on is that if this stupid whore of a mare had just kept her legs together, none of this would have happened, so it’s all her fault and she should be kept out of her foal’s lives for good!”

She was breathing hard when she finished, and her teeth were bared in a snarl. Sunburst stared at her with wide eyes. “Cupcake,” he began, taking a tiny step forward. “No one in this town would ever—”

“You don't know that, and you don't get to decide what chances I'm willing to take!” she growled, her voice finally beginning to rise in fury. “And when it comes to protecting my family, I'm not taking any. Especially not for you.”

She was trembling, and Sunburst retreated from her as far as he could. He opened his mouth to speak, but snapped it shut when she cut him off with a hard stomp. When she spoke again in turn, it was as if she were letting fly with spear after spear of all the anger and fear she had bottled up for years. “You haven’t even considered what we could lose, have you? What little we have left to lose! All it’s ever been with you is, ‘I just want to see her! I want to play daddy!’ You’ve never thought about what would happen to me, Carrot, or Pumpkin! I won’t let that happen. I am keeping this family together, and you will stay out of it.”

Sunburst was angry in turn now, and he knew it. He felt nothing but guilt for the part he had played in bringing this mess about, and he knew why Cupcake was as scared as she was. But to have the care and concern he had tried to give thrown back in his face with so much spite had snapped something. He knew he wasn’t thinking clearly, and he was already regretting what he was about to say. But he felt that if didn’t give it voice, the venom of his own anger would eat a hole in his throat.

“ ‘Stay out of it,’ ” he growled. “Well, you’re right about one thing, Cupcake. Maybe if that’s what you’d been yelling that night, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

He saw the punch coming. It was in clinging to his last shred of dignity that he didn’t try to avoid it. He knew he deserved it. It was, however, a mistake. The punch of a furious Earth Pony mare, he would reflect later, was the sort of thing that broke apart mountains in legends. As it was, he immediately felt lucky that he only saw three of his teeth lying next to him in a little splash of blood on the floor.

“Get. Out.” She stood over him, the shadow of the reaper itself ready to crush him like a locust. There was nothing but hatred in her eyes. “I don’t want your money, and I don’t ever want to see you again. If I do, I will kill you. I swear by the Four Thrones, I will. Now get. Out.”

Despite her command, she left him no time to obey. Instead, she turned on a hoof and strode out, her fury shaking the ground with every step. When she left, she slammed the door so hard behind her, the frame splintered and the hinges pulled their screws a fraction of an inch out of the wall. As Cupcake’s steps faded, Sunburst was left to contemplate the agony in his jaw, which still somehow seemed to pale against the hollow void of guilt in his heart.

“Well,” he groaned, gathering up the broken bits of his teeth, “this is going great so far.”

* * *

Applejack stared with wide eyes as Cupcake stormed out of the town square. Whatever had happened, the change it had wrought in the mare was nothing short of terrifying. By the inferno in her eyes, she looked ready to rip the crust of the earth apart and burn alive whatever got in her way. Applejack was suddenly glad she had been working on the far side of the ruin. Cupcake still might have noticed her staring if she had taken another look around the square, but she had not. She seemed beyond caring if she was seen or not for the moment.

Cupcake had not vanished around the corner for longer than half a minute before the shed door scraped open again and Sunburst staggered out. Applejack’s shock only grew as she realized he was cradling his jaw in one hoof, and that she could see crimson blood shining on the cream-colored fur of his legs. He hobbled away on three legs, taking no more notice for who might be watching than Cupcake had.

Applejack started to follow him, intent on demanding to know what had happened. From the look of it, Cupcake had nearly broken Sunburst’s jaw. That was not a level of violence she was about to let pass between two ponies she knew without finding out exactly what had happened.

As she passed the shed, its door now hanging despondently on only one hinge, she was distracted by a soft, brittle crunch underhoof as she walked by. She glanced down, puzzled, and realized she had trod on a small, crumpled up wad of stationary. As she looked back up, she saw that Sunburst had already left the square and gone out of sight. Frowning, she picked up the paper. Bad enough having Sugarcube Corner ruined, she thought. Don’t need more litter to clean up. As she started off after Sunburst again, however, she began to unfold the paper with a hoof and her teeth. After all, if it was an important document and somepony had lost it, they might want it returned.

As her eyes swept over the first few lines of script, however, she froze in her tracks.

Chapter 3 - What is Hidden

Starlight Glimmer wondered if there was an unwritten rule among dentists that said all their offices had to smell the same. As she walked through the steel-and-glass inner door, she was immediately struck by the familiar scents of nylon, mint, sterile metal, and astringent, gritty tooth polish. The smells always made her feel like a little filly again, trailing timidly along behind her mother at the office she had gone to in her hometown. The walls were even painted the same inoffensive shade of pastel green.

Indeed, the only office Starlight could think of that had broken the code was the one in the village she had led. She could only grimace at the memories of those visits. In hindsight, taking Bristlefoam’s talent away had been an even worse decision than most, and Starlight’s teeth had certainly paid the price over the years. As Colgate repaired the damage, each subsequent visit had been less painful, but Starlight was fairly certain she would need more than the usual level of care for the rest of her life.

“Oh, hello Starlight,” the receptionist said, glancing up from a stack of manila folders with a bright smile. “I’m afraid Colgate will be a little late seeing you. We had an emergency patient come in, and she had to see to him right away.”

“Oh dear,” Starlight said, frowning sympathetically. “Who was it? Were they badly hurt?”

“I’m afraid I can’t really say,” the receptionist deflected, her pleasant smile unwavering. “Patient confidentiality, you know. But don’t you worry, Dr. Colgate will have them fixed up in no time. If you’d like to take a seat, I’m sure it won’t be too long. Otherwise, I can find a messenger to let you know when—”

“Aaaaggghhhh!”

At first, Starlight was merely a little shocked to hear such a pained, strangled yell coming from deeper in the office. It was not a sound anyone wanted hear just after showing up for a cleaning. What made her blink and freeze in place, however, was how the yell took her back to the offices of her foalhood again, just as the smells and colors did.

Was that… Her brow furrowed deeply, and she took off at a trot around the receptionist’s desk. Unless she was completely mistaken, she knew that voice, had heard it several times in just such scenarios when they were both younger. He hadn’t dealt with dental visits well back then, either. He swore the practitioner made his gums bleed on purpose, but Starlight didn’t know how they could have helped it with him squirming and yelping the whole hour—a thin, higher-pitched, juvenile sound whose equal she swore she had just heard.

“Ms. Starlight, wait! Where are you going? You can’t go back there now! Hey!”

Starlight ignored her and pushed through the door at the back. There’s no way it’s really him. He was supposed to be in the Crystal Empire. Why would he be in Ponyville without her at least hearing about it? Yet there he was, stretched out on the reclined chair, his legs curled up in a protective wince as Colgate stooped over him on the near side. In spite of her curiosity, Starlight’s eyes went wide and her jaw dropped a little in surprise. “Sunburst?”

The eye that rolled to regard her widened in an expression that could only be horror. Starlight’s confusion only grew as she watched him stiffen with shock, then spasm a little as he tried to sit up.

“Agh!” he screamed instead, shrinking back from the barb of Colgate’s tool. She withdrew it a little and turned, glaring daggers at Starlight over her green muzzle mask.

“Ms. Starlight, I have an emergency patient,” she said, the mask muffling her voice. “I need you to step outside. Now.”

Starlight’s eyes fell on the silver tray next to the chair, and her eyes shrank as she noticed two large, white molars lying near the neatly-arrayed tools. Her eyes snapped back to Sunburst, and she saw that there was a huge, blossoming bruise on his jaw, the ripples of purple and blue visible even under his fur. She gasped and held a hoof to her mouth, taking a step forward as she continued to ignore Colgate.

“Sunburst! What happened?”

“Ehv wav goft a gah,” he said shakily, his tongue tripping over the tool still in his mouth. He grimaced as he looked down at it.

“What?” she asked. “I… didn’t really catch that.” Her brow knit in confusion. He seemed almost like he was shrinking away from her a little.

“Does this really seem like a good time?” Colgate growled. She lifted the tool a little more and waggled it in emphasis. Starlight shut her mouth with a snap.

“Oh! Uh… yeah, I guess it really isn’t.” She gave them a small, sheepish smile. Colgate only continued to glare at her, while Sunburst looked at her with a kind of despondent resignation. “I’ll just… I’ll wait for you outside, Sunburst.”

“That would be best,” Colgate said sardonically, and turned back to her patient. Sunburst seemed to sigh a little and turned his eyes up to the ceiling, as if he couldn’t even meet Starlight’s eyes. She frowned, her confusion and worry only rising. Nevertheless, she turned and starting walking back to the reception area. What is with him? Why is he acting like that? What is he even doing here in Ponyville?

She supposed she would have to wait for those answers until he didn’t have a small icepick seating his teeth back into place.

* * *

“Oh, hey Applejack!” Twilight said cheerily as she emerged from the castle library. She carried no fewer than five cubes of tightly-packed books above her, the air rippling and shimmering with her levitation spells. A plain canvas bag hung over her back, and Applejack could see the corners of several envelopes poking out of it.

“Hey there Twi,” Applejack said, giving her a slightly more nervous grin. She hoped her friend was occupied enough with her work not to notice her unease. She had cleaned the soot from her fur and retrieved her hat, so she doubted she looked any different than normal at a glance. “Interlibrary Loan Day again already?”

“Don’t you know it,” Twilight said, giving a sigh that was somehow tired, annoyed, and feverish with a secret happiness all at the same time. “Who knew growing the library by a factor of ten would start attracting requests from all of Equestria? It might be bigger now, but it’s hardly the Canterlot Archives!”

Applejack gave a small shrug. “Guess you’ll be busy the rest of the day then?”

“That’s Interlibrary Loan Day! Unless you need me for something?”

“Nah,” Applejack said, waving a hoof in what she hoped was a casual gesture. “I’m here to see Carrot. He around?”

Twilight’s face sobered as she nodded. “Yeah. Both the Cakes are here most of the time, really. There’s not much for them to do unless one of the recovery charities gets through more of the red tape.”

Applejack couldn’t help a sympathetic frown. “I take it the insurance agencies still ain’t budging, then.”

Twilight scowled. The books hovering above them lost a little of their orderly stillness, shifting and shuffling in a faintly menacing way. “No. I’m putting as much pressure on them as I can, but I’m getting nowhere.”

“Even though Five Alarm confirmed the fire started in the new wing they were building?”

“Yes. We know a lamp was left burning, but Fork Lift is adamant it was the Cakes, not one of the workers. Without proof of who to blame, both the Cakes’ agency and Fork’s are refusing to be the ones paying for it. It could be years before the lawyers settle anything.”

“Leaving the ponies actually in need in a ditch, as usual,” Applejack sighed. “Think they’re holding up okay? Anything… odd that you’ve noticed?”

“Odd?” Twilight asked, tilting her head a little. “I mean, I’m not sure I’d know what to call odd. They’re doing as well as can be expected, I suppose. It’s definitely wearing them down, though. They’re not used to having nothing to do but fill out forms and play with the twins day after day.”

“Yeah, I know I’d be banging off the walls,” Applejack said. “Well, I know where to find them, so I won’t keep you from your work. Thanks, Twi.”

“No worries, AJ.” Twilight nodded with a smile and headed to the back room of the castle, which served as a loading dock for the larger deliveries that came and went. Applejack checked another item off her mental checklist. Twilight wouldn’t emerge until late that night for anything but a catastrophe. Although, Applejack thought ruefully, I guess a catastrophe is exactly what I’ve got brewing on my hooves. She put the grim notion out of mind as best she could and made her way to the guest wing.

Twilight’s home might be a lot bigger than the cozy oak tree she had once occupied, but she was right that it was still no Canterlot Castle. Even The Crystal Palace dwarfed it by several orders of magnitude, boasting wing upon wing of guest rooms that could probably house royal families from all corners of the world. Twilight’s home, in contrast, had only four suites of rooms for visiting dignitaries. Even so, just one of the suites was still more spacious and luxurious than the entire Apple family farmhouse. Applejack didn’t think so much space was comfortable to live in, and she doubted the Cakes felt very differently.

She rounded a corner, then yelped in surprise as she nearly ran into the pony she was looking for. Carrot Cake jumped back as well, holding a hoof over his chest as he took a few deep breaths.

“Applejack!” he said. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“That’s alright,” Applejack said. In truth, she was not surprised his attention had wandered. Even the strongest ponies would be struggling to keep up with what the Cakes were going through, and Carrot had never been the most robust stallion. He was all limbs and neck, somehow fumbling from one task in the bakery to another. It had been his place, though—his zone. In spite of all his stumbling, his baked goods received only the finest attention and care, secure as if sheltered in the calm eye of an otherwise chaotic hurricane. When he finished a delicacy, there was never a fleck of stray frosting to be found out of place.

Now, however, that comfort zone was gone. As if the core of that bumbling hurricane had broken, the frayed strands of his energy had scattered and dissipated with it. Now, Mr. Cake looked like a wilted plant, those long limbs drooping and his mane limp with neglect. Every ounce of the family’s collective energy was now bent to just figuring out what they could do next, and it was showing on both of them. And here I have to come into it, knowing something that could snuff out the last sparks they’re still clinging to. Should I really be doing this?

“What brings you here?” Carrot asked.

“Well,” Applejack said, taking a deep breath. “I actually came looking for you. Something came up you need to know about.”

“Oh?” Carrot’s ears perked up, but his face was set in a grimace. “It’s not bad news, is it?”

Now or never, AJ. Get it over with. She took another deep breath.

“We got one of our contractors to postpone their lumber order,” she said easily. “It’s not much, but it’ll get you closer to finishing the framing of the new place. Big Mac wants you to come down and take a look, pick out what you think will fit the bill and all.”

“Seriously?” Carrot’s face lit up, and for a moment, he almost looked like his old self. “Oh my goodness, that’s wonderful, Applejack! There’s no way we can ever thank you enough for this!”

“Well, don’t go heaping praise we don’t deserve,” Applejack said. “It still won’t be nearly enough to build the whole place back. But we’ll still keep our ears out for more we might be able to get hold of. Anything comes our way, you’ll be the first to know.”

“It’s more than we could hope for,” Carrot said sincerely. “Thank you so much. I’ll go see Big Mac right away!”

He trotted off, looking happier than Applejack had seen in over a week. It was all she could do to keep from breaking out in tears at the sight. Well. That’s the last of the easy work done. Now for the real job.

She had thought about going to Carrot with what she knew. It hadn’t taken a genius to figure out that he was the one being kept in the dark, and that there was a lot more to find out. Applejack had nearly had a heart attack just on piecing together what she could from the letter.

Prior to that, if anyone had asked her who in Ponyville was an example of the perfect family, she would have said the Cakes. Not for an instant had she ever once imagined they were anything but what they seemed: a simple, happy couple with humble, happy ambitions. They ran a small-town bakery like a dance, they were adorable together to the point of sickening sweetness, and their family had just grown by two happy, beautiful children. She didn’t know how long she had stood there, crumpled letter in hoof, refusing to believe what she read.

That was why, finally, she had decided simply that she didn’t believe it. Not all of it. There was more to the story, she was certain. And in her mind, there was only one pony with the right to set the record straight first.

It had seemed like a simple plan to Applejack at the time. Make sure Twilight, Carrot, and any other curious ears were out of the way, and then get Cupcake to open up with the truth. It had been easy enough to talk Big Mac into canceling the Manehattan order and donating the materials they would have sold to the Cakes. They had been debating doing it anyway. The fallout would make for a leaner winter than either of them liked, but Applejack and Big Mac knew they would pull through.

Yet, even when she was standing in front of the guest wing door, hoof raised to knock, she couldn’t quite put the doubt to rest. She slowly lowered her hoof back to the floor as she reconsidered. Maybe I should just leave it alone. It was not the first time she had thought it, nor in all probability the tenth or twentieth. One thing’s for sure—it sounds like the last thing she wants is more ponies trying poke into this. And I don’t have anything to do with it. What do I know about relationships or what ponies should do in situations like this?

Each time, she had nearly succeeded in talking herself out of it. It was, by all odds, the safest thing to do. She wasn’t involved. She shouldn’t even know as much as she did. Everything she knew about common courtesy demanded she turn around, leave the castle, and pretend she had never even seen the letter. It was almost enough to make her turn away and do just that.

And then the final argument came again, the same argument that now made her lift her hoof back to the door.

She’s all alone in this.

Applejack knocked. There, too late now. Choice made. Just have to make the best of whatever happens next. It was no time at all before she heard hoofsteps approaching from the other side, and then the heavy crystal door swung open, Cupcake grimacing a little as she hauled it back. Applejack gave a small, sympathetic wince. As impressive as the castle was, the huge, three-story-tall doors that led into the individual wings were not very convenient for daily use.

“Oh, hello Applejack,” Cupcake said, giving her an exhausted smile. She was speaking in a deliberately low voice. “Sorry to be so quiet, but I just got the twins down for their nap. If you’re looking for Carrot, I’m afraid he left a little while ago to get some fresh air.”

“I know,” Applejack admitted with a shaky smile of her own. “I actually came to talk to you, if you have a moment.”

“Oh? Well, certainly, dearie. Come on in, but do shut the door as gently as you can. I’ll close the door to the bedroom, that should let us talk without waking the twins.”

Applejack followed Cupcake into the large parlor common to the guest wings in Twilight’s Castle. It was well-furnished and welcoming enough, but as Applejack glanced around, she felt again that such rooms were too stiff and alien for long-term living. The dishevelment of family life was settling over it, but instead of molding to it like a family home would, the room was starting to feel like worlds were clashing. It was the same feeling as a hotel room lived in too long. There was an artificial, formal order constantly trying to keep its shape against the comfortable messiness of real life. This was not the Cakes’ home, and it never could be.

“There,” Cupcake said, returning from the doorway that led to the bedroom. “Make yourself comfortable dearie. Just, ah, watch out for any toys. Pumpkin’s fond of throwing them lately.”

Applejack saw Cupcake’s embarrassed grimace as she scooted several toy pony figures off the couch. Cupcake had managed to clean her hooves and legs after the morning’s bout of hopeless salvage at the Corner, but her face and mane were still stained and grungy. How she had found time just to do what she had, Applejack couldn’t begin to guess.

“Still no word from Pinkie?” Applejack asked, trying to find a way to ease into the conversation.

Cupcake shook her head sadly. “Nothing. I’m sure she’s just as upset as we are, I just…” She gave Applejack a shaky smile. “It would be good to know she’s okay… and I can’t help feeling a little selfish. We’re really missing her help… but I’m sure she’s doing whatever she needs to.”

“Pinkie wouldn’t disappear the morning after the fire without a good reason,” Applejack assured her. “She could be a little better about explaining her plans, that’s for sure. But if I’ve learned anything about her, if she ain’t here, she’s got something important she’s cooking up. And how are the twins doing?”

“Oh, they’re fine. It’s a little hard to get them to sleep these days. It’s hard enough getting foals used to a new place, and I think the castle is a little overwhelming to them. Especially Pound. He’s been overstimulated ever since we got here. Er, not that it’s any problem, of course. We’re nothing but grateful to Princess Twilight for her generosity.”

“It’s a lot to get used to,” Applejack said reassuringly. “Especially for such little ponies. I’m not even sure Twilight is used to this place yet.”

That seemed to put Cupcake a little more at ease. “So, was there something you needed to talk to me about?”

Well, that’ll be it for keeping things comfortable, Applejack lamented. But there was nothing else for it. “Well… Yeah.”

When she hesitated too long, Cupcake’s face clouded with a small, worried frown. “Is everything alright?”

“Ye… well… no, I suppose not,” Applejack sighed. She wondered why her heart was suddenly pounding against her ribs. It almost felt like she was the one with a guilty conscience. “Look. I don’t think there’s any easy way to do this, so… first off, I need to apologize. I’m not even sure I should be here, and I know I shouldn’t… well, I shouldn’t know what I do. But I do. And the way I figure it, best to do something about it before somepony else puts pieces together.”

Cupcake had gone from curious to rigid as Applejack talked. She still had a shaky smile, and she was still pretending to be confused. But Applejack could see it now. There was paranoia in her eyes, a kind of feral fear at even having to wonder if Applejack could be talking about Cupcake feared she was. Something she was desperate to keep to herself. “I’m not sure I’m following you, Applejack.”

“Yeah,” Applejack said sadly. “You are.” She tipped her hat back and let the crumpled wad of paper fall from beneath it onto her hoof. She set it gently on the table between them, watching Cupcake all the while. The effect was immediate and calamitous. Cupcake’s face went so white so quickly, Applejack didn’t think it could have been worse than if she had laid a knife at her throat. Her mouth opened, just a sliver, but Applejack doubted any air was moving between those stricken lips.

“I found this,” Applejack said slowly, trying to sound gentle and not accusing, “after you gave Sunburst the walloping you did.”

And that was that. The very air in the room seemed to change. It could not have been more palpable if it had been transmuted to lead. In the blink of an eye, Cupcake had gone from looking like an exhausted mother to something like a hunted, cornered animal. Once again she opened her mouth to say something, then closed it soundlessly. It was only then Applejack realized she ought to say something more to keep the tension from rising further, but suddenly she had no idea how to continue the conversation.

“What…” Cupcake swallowed and tried again. “How much did you read?”

Applejack realized Cupcake was still hiding behind a barricade, even then. Every word, every gesture was being carefully scrutinized for confirmation of something, and she wasn’t going to commit to saying anything that might reveal more than what Applejack already knew. The secret was cemented so deep in her, every minute detail guarded with such constant care and sleepless, pinpoint precision, it was tearing her apart. No, Applejack thought, even worse—it’s practically turning her to stone around itself. She can’t even move for fear of it getting out anymore.

“All of it, I’m afraid,” Applejack admitted, hanging her head. “Ought to have tossed it away the moment I realized what… where things were going. I guess it was one of those train wreck kind of things. You want to look away, but it’s just too awful to do anything but watch.”

“Well. I’m glad the ruin of my family is such an entertaining spectacle for you,” Cupcake said icily. Applejack bit her lip, and would have smacked her face with a hoof if she had felt more free to do so.

“That weren’t… Dang, I’m sorry Cupcake. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not here to make excuses.”

“Then what are you here for?” Cupcake’s eyes were narrowed to slits. “You want to blow the whole thing wide open? Give the letter to Carrot and leave me to fend for myself?”

“Nothing of the sort.”

“Then what?”

“Listen,” Applejack said, raising a nervous hoof in a placating gesture, “I know none of this is any of my business. And if you want, I’ll leave and never say another word. You have my solemn promise. I won’t breathe a word about any of this to anyone. Not even Twilight. But I just thought that… well, it sounds like you’re surrounded by stallions who don’t really have the full idea of what’s going on.” She lowered her hoof and gave Cupcake a hopeful, open smile. “Maybe you need a mare friend you can share the trouble with. I’m here for you, Cupcake.”

Of all the answers Cupcake had likely been planning to rebuff, the one Applejack gave seemed to break through something. She blinked as if startled, then seemed to try to find the old, familiar anger again. “But… you’re right. This isn’t your business. You shouldn’t have…”

Her words trailed off. Applejack thought she could guess what was going through Cupcake’s mind. In all likelihood, it was killing her to think of letting Applejack walk out of the room knowing what she knew—a fragment of a story that could totally destroy what little of her world was left. The Apples and the Cakes knew each other, trusted each other, but nopony could trust another to keep a secret so important. Most ponies couldn’t even trust themselves to keep it, and the worry of it kept them up at night. Applejack wondered how many nights Cupcake had lain awake.

“The way I see it, Cupcake,” Applejack interjected, “Things already aren’t going right, what with Sunburst wandering around with a busted mouth. I might not be the only pony who’s wondering a thing or two. This secret’s too big. It’s killing you, and it still ain’t staying in the bag.” She nodded down at the letter. “But something tells me whatever I might think after reading that, it ain’t the right truth of it. I figure, knowing you like I do, there’s more to the story. Wouldn’t it be better to get the truth squared away, instead of letting me guess what I can with this bit of nastiness?” She gave Cupcake a sad shrug. “Might feel good to at least be honest with somepony who’ll go away and keep quiet about it, if nothing else.”

There was an accusation in there, and Applejack realized it a second too late. Cupcake, however, didn’t seem to hear it. Some kind of barrier had already been broken, and she was finally allowing the pieces to fall through her hooves. The exhausted mother was back, but now, she was a mare truly at the end of her rope. The defensive fire she had built up went out, but in its place, there was nothing. She seemed totally empty, and that, more than anything else that had happened so far, broke Applejack’s heart.

“What’s there to be honest about?” Cupcake sighed. “You read the letter. You can guess what happened. So what’s there to do for me but try to pick up the pieces?”

“I know what the letter said,” Applejack agreed, nodding. “But I want to hear what you say. I want to hear your version of what happened.”

“What good will that do anyone?”

Applejack shrugged again. “You’ve been holding onto this secret for years, all alone. Might feel good to let it out.”

“…I can’t. Carrot will be back soon, and Twilight might come by.”

In answer, Applejack shook her head. “Carrot’s gone to see Big Mac, and he’ll keep him busy most of the afternoon. As for Twilight…” she gave a little smile. “She’s got library business to take care of. She ain’t coming down for nothing but Tartarus opening up.”

It didn’t get a laugh, but the weak smile she got from Cupcake was all she needed to see. The ice was broken.

“So,” Applejack continued, standing up. “How about I get us something warm to drink, and then we can talk?”

* * *

“No solid food for a week,” Sunburst complained, rolling his jaw and wincing. Magic could work wonders, and it could even help reattach the roots of teeth. Apparently, though, it couldn’t speed the healing of the tissues or make the roots knit completely to the jaw. At least, according to Dr. Colgate, not without cooking his brain.

After Starlight had walked in and seen him, he had seriously considered the option of just cooking his brain anyway.

The story that a cart had come out of nowhere and clipped his jaw in passing would be enough for Princess Cadence and the royal treasury once Dr. Colgate’s bill came. It was not, however, enough for Starlight. She had rescheduled her own appointment and, in spite of his protests, dragged him straight to the local juicer for a nutrient shake. They both knew the real reason, however, and neither saw much point in pretending otherwise. She wasn’t letting him out of her sight without some explanations.

“Somepony hit you,” Starlight said. It was a plain statement, almost toneless, but the demand for more information was clear. Sunburst cradled the thick glass of green pulp and kept his nose down, saying nothing. Starlight, growing impatient, started tapping her hoof on the table. “I’m not buying the cart accident story. That bruise is from a hoof, or I’m Celestia’s aunt. I saw my share of fights when I was running the village, Sunburst. Especially in the early days. I know what a punch looks like.”

Still he said nothing. He knew it was a mistake. It would only make her more suspicious. Ordinarily, he would have been able to come up with some responses, a few statements plausible enough to deflect the questions until he could get away. After Cupcake had laid him out, though, he had been left feeling strangely empty. Everything had gone wrong, and his chances now were probably worse than ever. He just couldn’t summon the energy to focus on lying. So he kept quiet.

“What’s with you?” Starlight finally demanded. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming to Ponyville?” She turned away, and Sunburst’s heart wrenched a little as he saw the cloud of uncertainty pass over her face. “I wouldn’t have insisted we spend a day together or anything like that. I know you’re busy. But I like to see you just a little when the chance comes up.”

That broke him. He couldn’t stand to see Starlight hurting, or worse, doubting herself. He knew she’d had more than her fair share of that for a lifetime. “It’s not…” his words trailed off as he tried to figure out how to handle the situation. He had a promise to keep. He focused instead on the dark muddle of his smoothie. “…I didn’t say I was coming to Ponyville because… I had some private business that I can’t really talk about.”

It sounded even lamer spoken aloud than it had in his head. Somewhere, a dagger of guilt materialized and buried itself into his heart. So now I’m not only lying to Starlight, I’m deliberately telling her I’m keeping things from her?

“Private business that ended with you getting your teeth knocked out?” Starlight asked incredulously. “What, are you dealing with some kind of Ponyville mafia now?” She paused, then rolled her eyes. “I mean, I’d almost believe it, given everything else I’ve seen attracted to this town. But something tells me that’s not it.”

“It’s not… I can’t talk about it. I’d be breaking a promise to someone,” he finished, hating himself more with every syllable. This was wrong. He knew Starlight’s feelings for him had started to grow, and if his life had only stayed simple, he would have acted on his own feelings months ago. But he knew that, as far as deal breakers in relationships went, the baggage he was carrying was among the worst. Instead, he had decided to keep the doors closed. They would remain friends, and she would find somepony else. Someday.

That was what he had thought until today. He looked up, expecting her to look indignant at his continued refusal. Maybe she would even look hurt again. But she only looked confused and worried.

Somehow, that she was not even taking his mistrust personally and kept worrying only about him was too much. I don’t deserve her. Not even as a friend. In that instant, he felt something inside himself break. Before he knew it, he was hiding his face behind one leg, his shoulders shaking as suppressed sobs punched him in the gut. Right then, he wanted nothing so much as to just disappear, vanish into the most remote country in the world where no one knew him, and just try to forget everything he had ever done wrong.

Just like he had when he left for the Crystal Empire.

Before he could run though, he felt Starlight pull him into a gentle hug. “Hey,” she said softly. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Empty words. Meaningless platitudes. Yet, he leaned into her anyway. If she knew the truth, he knew she would have shoved him away, not pulled him into that comforting embrace. That’s the problem, he realized. He’d been stringing both of them along, wishing for more when he knew he would never deserve to have it. He had spent time with Starlight, sometimes imagining the mistake had never happened and that they would grow closer one day. He had watched over Flurry, sometimes pretending another little pony would look up at him with those eyes, with that unconditional, trusting love, but known it was a feeling forbidden to him forever.

It was all too much.

“I can’t… but…” he choked. “You need to know. You deserve to know.”

That made her stiffen a little. Suddenly, he knew, she was scared.

“You don’t have to, Sunburst,” she said. “If it’s not something you’re supposed to share…”

“It’s not. But…” The pieces fell together. He knew why it felt like such an insult when he refused to share this ruined part of himself. How had he and Starlight reconnected? Hadn’t she come to his door, face filled with fear and shame, and told him everything she had done in her life? Hadn’t she been in desperate need of forgiveness, acceptance, somepony else to bear the knowledge without judging her and tossing her aside? And now, he was denying her exactly that trust.

He felt like the lowest kind of scum. And Starlight had done some pretty reprehensible things. Was what he had done really worse than that?

Objectively speaking, he couldn’t say for sure. But to him, it felt infinitely worse.

“I know I can trust you,” he said. “This… no one else can know. It’s not just for me. Someone else would be hurt if it got spread around. Badly hurt. But this is… it’s killing me, Starlight. I just… I could really use a friend right now.”

Starlight gave him a long look. Then, she nodded resolutely. “Let’s go to the castle. It’ll be safe to talk there.”

Sunburst was too tired, too beaten to do anything but agree. The dice were cast, he supposed. Maybe it was finally time for something to change.

Chapter 4 - Viva Las Pegasus

Two Years Ago

“The clamoring crowds! The lively lights! The clangoring coins!” Pinkie Pie rattled off sight after sight like she was playing some abbreviated, solo version of “I Spy.” One minute she was bouncing right beside Cupcake, and the next she had cleared the street in a single bound and was narrating her discoveries to whatever random pony happened to be in the way. Then she would be back again, piecing together sights and rhymes and, Cupcake had no doubt, putting them away for later use in an improvised song. “The suited stallions! The boorish bouncers!”

Pinkie suddenly stopped as she glanced into a wide, shell-shaped doorway big as a stage and bedazzled with enough light bulbs to blow out the Ponyville power plant. There was a calculating, almost predatory gleam in her smile. “The sexy showmares,” she said, her voice suddenly low and dragging huskily on the words like a cigar. Cupcake stopped and looked back at her, mouth agape in shock.

“Pinkie!”

“Just kidding!” Pinkie dropped the lascivious façade—if façade it had been—like a burned muffin and bounced along as if nothing had interrupted her.

Cupcake plodded along behind her. What Pinkie found intoxicating, Cupcake was finding nauseating. There were lights, alright. Even if she shut her eyes, it seemed like worms of every unnatural, dye-saturated color imaginable were tracing casino signs into her brain with burning mucus.

The noise was no better. Tartarus itself couldn’t howl with so many beleaguering, hollow conversations if Cerberus were running amok, and that was only the background of Las Pegasus’ chaotic soundtrack. Electronic tones spun drunkenly over themselves, imitating the dizzying tumble of the slot machines. Electric guitars raked their angry chords over the ears of the throng, and every few blocks, cheap microphones drizzled out sugarcane-sweet voices of pop-star impersonators.

Overhead, Cupcake could hear the dull, constant roar of the natural gas jets, the red light of their draconic maws illuminating the entire city in an almost demonic glow. Heated by those fiery monsters like so many lanterns, the ponderous, behemothic dirigibles that cradled Las Pegasus in its cloud bed floated overhead, holding them all in a gentle sway fifteen hundred feet above the desert. Purely Pegasus cities like Cloudsdale had no need of such clunky, fuel-hungry monstrosities. But a city like Las Pegasus, having evolved entirely for the pleasure of the itinerant, could not afford to cater solely to the winged ponies of Equestria. And so, the heavy stone roads and buildings Cupcake now walked on had to be suspended like a bridge with no destination over the emptiest part of the world.

Another pony jostled against Cupcake, almost pushing her into the gutter. She gritted her teeth and fought her way back to the middle of the sidewalk, straining to keep up with Pinkie as she flounced along. How their young ward managed to launch herself above the crowd and land without crushing somepony’s spine was a total mystery. What I wouldn’t give to have that kind of energy again. Failing that, just enough zest and eye for the crowds to keep up with Pinkie’s exhausting pace would be nice.

“What hotel is the convention at, again?” she asked when she finally caught up to Pinkie.

“Not sure!” Pinkie chirped. “I figure we’ll see signs for it eventually!”

Cupcake almost stood still, staring at Pinkie with an exhausted fury she could almost taste. It felt like swallowing a wad of dry, prickly fibers. Someone pushed bodily against her rump, however, and she forced herself to keep moving and ignore the grumbling behind her. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I read it somewhere when I bought the passes, but I forgot,” Pinkie said, apparently ignorant of Cupcake’s discomfort. “I decided to just sightsee until we found it! And there’s soooo much to see! Come on!”

It was enough to make Cupcake want to cry. After fourteen hours on two connecting trains, it had been another four hours by coach through the sweltering Mo’Ponee Desert to get to the anomalous wasteland city. Of course, it would have only been four hours by airyacht, but who can afford the ridiculous airfares these days? Cupcake could have bought two or three new ovens and still had spare change with what that trip would have cost her. Now, all she wanted was to check into an air-conditioned hotel room, lie on the overlarge bed, and just let the monotonous, headache-filled journey bleed away. Then she could deal with Pinkie’s antics again.

What she did not want was an impromptu, unguided tour of the enormous city while the scorching heat of the day still swamped the streets. She could practically feel herself simmering in her own sweat, even though nothing remained of the sun but a blood-red band on the lowest edge of the horizon.

She took a long breath, trying to push the frustration down. The air felt hot enough to cook the moisture from her lungs, but she forced herself to keep a calm expression. There isn’t any reason to be mad at Pinkie. She’s just excited, and it’s good that she is. She can just be a little thoughtless sometimes, that’s all. Especially when she’s excited.

Just like Carrot could be a little thoughtless. Especially when he felt embarrassed.

She cleared the errant, biting thought from her mind. It was even worse to be dwelling on that than to get upset at Pinkie. “Listen, dearie, I know you’re excited to be here. But it’s been a really long day, and I’m really, really tired.” Pinkie needed things made extra clear, sometimes. It was good to use “really” a lot. She seemed to take notice the more someone said it. “I really just want to get to the hotel and rest. We’ll have plenty of time to explore, I promise. We can get settled first, just a little, can’t we?”

Pinkie stopped bouncing at looked at Cupcake as if she had never seen her before. Then, she nodded emphatically, her apology written clear as day on her face. “Sure thing, Mrs. Cake. I’m sorry.”

“No harm done, dearie,” Cupcake said, breathing a soft sigh of relief.

“Hey!” Pinkie called to the nearest bouncer. “You know where the Great Equestrian Party Convention is being held?”

The bouncer’s expression, hidden behind his enormous aviator sunglasses, would have been a model for a Royal Canterlot guard to look up to. Pinkie, undeterred by his stony gaze, received a slow nod in reply.

“The Rose,” he said. Cupcake could feel the bass of his voice roll through her like a small storm front. “Two blocks down Freemount street just ahead.”

“Awesome! Thanks mister!”

Freemount Street, Cupcake thought glumly. If that’s not a bad omen, I don’t know what is.

* * *

“Check it out, boys,” Breakaway said, waving expansively as the rest of the team crested the final cloud hill. “Las Pegasus, a.k.a. team Alkonost’s weekend Casa Fiesta!”

The whole team, having flown in a lazy and scattered formation for the past few hours, now came together in a loose huddle as they perched for a final short rest. Duffel bags briefly thudded onto the cloud as they stretched and trotted in place, and a few of the Pegasi simply rolled onto their backs for a quick power nap. Hoops, however, landed close to his captain and looked out over the city, beaming with a long, almost leering smile as he took in the sight. They couldn’t even see the shape of the city with how dark the night had already gotten, but that didn’t matter. The glow mushrooming into the sky in front of them told of golden pyramids, neon towers, and the bright, balloon-shrouded fires of Las Pegasus, beckoning them to nights that only came once in a lifetime.

This, Hoops thought, is what college is about. Good colts, pretty mares, and enough beer to keep everypony’s minds drifting in that pleasant golden haze that made life worth living. This was what made the whole game season worthwhile. The past two semesters had been building up to this, and now it was time to “viva Las Pegasus.”

“Don’t forget,” Breakaway said, turning a skeptical eye on Hoops, “we still represent the Alkonosts here, every bit as much as we do on the court. We’re here to have fun, but I don’t want to hear about anyone getting carried away and giving the Academy a bad name. Anyone. You got that?”

“Why are you singling me out?” Hoops asked, holding back a scowl as he turned to look at Breakaway.

“You know exactly why,” Breakaway grumbled. “You and your buddies have been on thin ice lately, Hoops. If your GPA doesn’t get a boost, you know coach is going to have to talk with you. And I don’t like what I’ve been hearing about you from the bar owners downtown.”

“Come on Breakaway,” Hoops drawled. “Save it for when coach is listening, yeah? This is Las Pegasus! The last thing we need to do here is worry about anything.”

“I’m serious, Hoops,” Breakaway said with a frown. “I don’t want to see your standing with the team jeopardized. You need to be bringing your behavior up a few notches. And if you want to move up in the leagues, you need to start working harder than you have been, too. You’ve only got one season left here. It’s do-or-die time.”

“And I always do,” Hoops insisted. “Trust me, scouts are gonna be lining up for me next year. Even you haven’t racked up stats like mine this season.”

“It’s not just about stats when it comes to scouts,” Breakaway said. He looked like he wanted to say more, but he just shook his head and sighed. “Look, just don’t embarrass any of us while we’re here.”

“Not to worry,” Hoops said, mocking a sagely tone. Because when Score and I get up to the real fun, I’ll just make sure you’re not nearby to watch.

* * *

She should have realized she wouldn’t get any rest. At least, not if she wanted to keep an eye on Pinkie Pie. She had been allowed a grand total of ten minutes in her hotel room before she heard Pinkie galloping down to the convention hall, and with a pained groan, had dragged herself out of bed to follow.

She’d probably be fine, she complained to herself, repeating the now-familiar refrain. But Las Pegasus was a dodgy place for any mare alone, and Pinkie was still very young. It had been out of the question for her to attend the Great Equestrian Party Convention by herself. Cupcake didn’t want to think about what Igneous and Cloudy would have said if they knew the Cakes had allowed their daughter to travel hundreds of miles alone, and to Las Pegasus of all places. It would have driven Cupcake herself mad with worry no matter what city it was. So, she had insisted on chaperoning Pinkie to the event that, the enthusiastic pony had sworn, would be the gathering of her lifetime.

Now, Cupcake sat alone at the hotel bar, trying to keep an eye on the convention hall but barely able to muster the energy to do so. Pinkie almost certainly wouldn’t leave the hotel, at least not tonight. As soon as they had come down, a bombastic Unicorn on stilts had bellowed out a welcome to the GEPC pre-party, the party to get everypony warmed up for more partying. At that, Pinkie Pie’s eyes had dilated to a nearly terrifying darkness, and her smile had been wider than Cupcake had ever seen.

“I have found my ponies,” she had whispered, and then let out a jubilant squeal that Cupcake’s ears were still ringing from.

The music was loud, and the ponies were louder. At least the lighting in the bar was tolerable. In what she could only assume had been an aberration into good sense for the hotel’s designer, the bar was brightly lit in warm, homey tones that almost made up for the insane quantities of gold everything was embellished with. It had an almost Europonean Renaissance look to it. And anyway, anything was better than neon.

“You’re with the GEPC?” the bartender asked. He glanced meaningfully at the badge Cupcake wore on a cheap, itchy lanyard around her neck. She jumped a little, surprised at being noticed, then nodded hesitantly. “Just chaperoning a friend of the family. Partying’s not really my thing,” she said, giving him a sheepish, but mostly tired, smile.

“Ah, sure, sure. It’s always hardest for the ponies that get dragged along to these events,” the barpony said sagely. The bow tie of his tux moved a little with his chin as he nodded. “It’s hard to know quite how to fit in or what to do with the spare time. If there’s anything we here at the Rose can do to make your stay more comfortable, though, don’t hesitate to ask. No matter who you are, you can always forget your troubles in this city. Here,” he added, and a tumbler of glittering crystal seemed to appear in his hoof from out of nowhere. A steel shaker spun through the air over it, and he filled the glass with something thick, creamy, and with a tint of orange to its glowing white color.

“First drink’s on the house for all GEPC attendees,” he said, giving a little bow. “Welcome to Las Pegasus.”

On the house, Cupcake thought, staring down at the thick, ivory drink. I wonder if that’s why these badges cost three hundred bits each?

The bartender had been right about one thing, though. She did not feel like she fit in here, not remotely. These were Pinkie’s kind of ponies, after all. And as fond as she and Carrot Cake had grown of her, there were times when it was obvious that Cupcake would never fully comprehend her. While they both lived to help other ponies, that was where anything they had in common ended. Unlike Cupcake, Pinkie’s ambitions were as big as her smiles. Bigger, even. She wanted to organize parties across the face of Equestria, even around the world, if she got her way in life. At the very least, Cupcake would not be surprised if she were running the Grand Galloping Gala in less than a decade.

Cupcake had never wanted such incredible things. It was overwhelming just to be there in Las Pegasus, that strange, buzzing hive of a city. She couldn’t imagine actually living or working there, not for anything. She had grown up in Ponyville, and when the time had come to earn her own living from her trade, she had stayed. Finally, she had been married there. Ponyville was quiet, comfortable, and predictable. That was enough for her. It was only after Pinkie came to stay with them that Cupcake had started to feel like a dull provincial for being happy with what she had built.

No. For whatever reason, she had never had either Pinkie’s energy or her dreams, not even when she had been younger than Pinkie. She had been happy to drift with life, enjoying the quiet journey. Six years ago, she had even been one of the last in Ponyville to get married, though she had still been in her early twenties. She had certainly never been interested in Las Pegasus. All I ever wanted was my own bakery and maybe some foals to send to the same little schoolhouse I grew up in. Was that so wrong?

Wrong or not, she thought bitterly, pushing the glass back and forth between her hooves, I might not even get that. How can it be wrong to want little things when even that much is so hard to get?

She had the bakery. She had Carrot. She had waited a long time for him, but by Celestia, they had found each other, and that was something to be grateful for. They even had Pinkie, who for all her strangeness was like a daughter to them. Even though she had come to live with them as a teenager, Cupcake had doted on her and watched over her as if she were her own. It was close to what she wanted, and it felt wonderful to have her around.

And now, with what she and Carrot had learned not two days ago, it looked like that was as close as she was ever going to get. In the face of that, how could she have denied Pinkie the chance to get closer to her own dreams? A little discomfort was a small price to pay.

Might as well enjoy what life brings us, she thought, feeling a painful stab of grief and uncertainty. We only get so much.

She picked up the glass and took a tentative sip.

* * *

Sunburst was fairly certain they had chosen the loudest casino in the entire Las Pegasus historic district. It was not to his liking. His opinion, however, hadn’t exactly counted when the class of ‘99 announced he was still coming with them on their celebratory road trip; why would his opinion on the specific casinos matter?

“Once a Celestial, always a Celestial,” Mercury Dream had said to him. He hated how she had looked at him when she said it. It’s bad enough everyone knows why I’m leaving. Why couldn’t they just let me slip away quietly? Instead, one after another of his classmates seemed compelled to do him favors, as if to go out of their way to let him know they didn’t think any less of him. All it did was remind him constantly of how great the differences between them had grown.

He took another long pull from the old fashioned he had been nursing for the last ten minutes. This bartender has a heavy hoof with the bitters, he reflected with a scowl. Still, maybe that’s fitting for tonight. He wasn’t even sure where his former classmates had gone. They probably figured they had done their duty. They had brought him there, and they had bought him a drink. A pity drink. Now they were released from the obligatory showing of their formal friendships, and they could enjoy their graduation celebration in earnest.

Without him.

Another drink left the huge sphere of ice spinning lazily in the bottom of his glass. He watched it twirl, then gave it prod with a hoof to keep it going when it slowed. Too much trouble even to use magic on a bit of ice. He sighed, wondering if he looked as pathetic as he felt, sitting alone at the end of the bar with an empty drink. End of the bar, end of the semester… end of career.

Ten years ago, he hadn’t even dreamed he would ever be one of the Unicorns able to call themselves a Celestial. He had known about Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, obviously. What Unicorn foal didn’t? But they were the elite, either aristocracy or so brilliant and powerful as foals that they were almost another race of ponies. They were not the kinds of fillies and colts that grew up in Sunburst’s little village. And then, admission had practically fallen into his lap, unasked for and unsought. Suddenly, he was one of those upper-one-percents of ponies. What else could he do but devote himself wholeheartedly to the role life had put on his shoulders?

It had been one prolonged downhill slog after that. He went to tutoring sessions after class. He spent entire nights in the practice rooms and library. He tried study groups and remedial teams and even dubious potions marketed to increase a Unicorn’s spell power. In the end, it had all been for nothing.

He had at least made a name for himself in the academic circles of the school. He had paid his way through with his job at the library, and by the end of it, he had reached two levels of promotion higher than what students were usually allowed to work at. Whether it was Arcane History, Castulus, Theoretical Organic Alchemy, or Conceptual Manafysiks, he left every other student in the dust—and even, on occasion, a professor or two. As long as it could be done with a quill and paper, Sunburst had a reputation as a borderline genius.

But that wasn’t the point of Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. CSGU wasn’t another pile of bricks and mortar for scholars to lock themselves away in. CSGU produced practitioners. The spellcasters graduating from CSGU went on to bring the most powerful spells in the world to bear for the good of Equestria. They transmuted spidersilk steel for use in airyachts. They cured the most cryptic and mystifying diseases life could develop. They tamed the chaotic magic of the wilderness for new settlements, turning jungles and tempestuous ravines into fertile grottos and valleys.

Celestials moved metaphorical and, sometimes, literal mountains with their magic.

Sunburst, it was decided, had been misplaced. Some of his professors had been certain they could bring out his full potential, find the magical punch to back up his gift for managing information. But it never manifested. He scraped by years longer than he should have, taking as many theory-intensive classes as he could to balance the practical courses he would inevitably fail, but the imbalance had caught up to him in the end. There were just too many courses he could not pass, that he could not graduate without. Then, one month ago, the dean had invited him to her office to tell him, in as gentle and encouraging a tone as possible, that he would be leaving CSGU. Never to return.

I should have left years ago, Sunburst thought with another bitter sigh. I should have just enrolled in Ox Ford or Berkneigh or Marevard. His own parents had suggested, time and again, that he might be happier at a university where he could just focus on the academic side, rather than CSGU’s holistic approach. But how could he have done that? He had been placed in the most prestigious school in the world! How could he just choose to leave that behind? No. He had to live up to the goals they had set before him. He thought he could do it. He could become the kind of pony that could do all these things if he just spent another hour in the library, went to another study session. He could do it.

Apparently not.

He pushed the glass away and glanced around. Where is that bartender? He would’ve thought the booze at least would be plentiful in Las Pegasus. It didn’t seem likely that alcohol would make him feel much better about the total collapse of all his ambitions, but it also could hardly hurt. Maybe I should just go, he thought, giving the raucous room behind him a dull look. Who am I kidding? None of this will help. He couldn’t just go back to the dorms in Canterlot; his former classmates, unfortunately, were his ride back. But his friends didn’t want him around. It was hard to celebrate how successful they were if it meant remembering the failure among them.

Mercury didn’t want him. Not anymore.

He closed his eyes, fighting the sudden, furious wave of tears that seemed to rise up from the depths of his heart. No. None of that. Won’t do any good. No. He wouldn’t burden them with his company. Maybe he could find a library to hang out in until the day came to pull the coach back to Canterlot. That, at least, would be tolerable.

Sunburst spotted the bartender down at the other end of the bar, swapping out an empty glass for a full one in front of a bright blue mare with pink hair. He pushed himself back from the bar and started trotting over. At least he would have another drink or two before secluding himself away for the remainder of the trip.

* * *

The drink was called a “Golden Dream,” Cupcake now knew. Now that is ironic if anything is, she thought. By the fourth glass, her heart was aching for her real golden dream. She thought of how his yellow coat shone so deep and rich in the morning sunlight, how ruddy and warm it looked when he was pulling something out of a hot oven.

How pale and sickly, instead, the color of Carrot’s coat had turned under the dispassionate, fluorescent lights of Dr. Stable’s office. Why have such foul lights in a doctor’s office, Cupcake had wondered. Blue and green, the colors of bruises and corpses, not anything hopeful or living.

Cold and hard, like Carrot’s eyes when he had started shouting at Dr. Stable.

Somepony sat down next to her and said something to the bartender. She didn’t bother turning to look. This wasn’t Ponyville, where any stranger could turn into a friend in a matter of hours. The was Las Pegasus. Ponies’ faces didn’t matter here. They came and went, and none of them were the face she wanted to see.

“We thought it was just bad luck, the first few years,” Cupcake continued to the bartender. She tilted the glass slowly back and forth, watching the way the thick liquid languidly trailed after her movements. Are my words slurring? Not possible. The drink was way too sweet to have much alcohol in it. She couldn’t even taste the telltale medicinal burn most cocktails gave.

Belatedly, she remembered she was still talking. “Then, after we kept trying, and nothing happened… I started to worry, you know? You never think about these things until you wonder if… if it might be you.” She took a long pull from the glass. The bartender was levitating another drink, this one dark with liquor, to the pony next to her, but he kept his eyes on her attentively. Bartenders really are the best listeners. He’s already making another drink for me. So thoughtful.

“We didn’t talk to anyone about it,” she said, continuing to spin the remnants of her current drink. “Some questions you just… you don’t want to know the answers to, you know? I just kept telling myself it would happen, when the time was right… things would work out.” She drained the glass, and it seemed the next one was in her hoof without her even feeling the exchange. Early on, she had started to get suspicious the bartender was just trying to sell as many drinks as he could. But that couldn’t be true. He was such a good listener. He was just being kind. The first kindness she had been given in days, it seemed like.

“What am I going to do when I get back?” she wondered aloud, letting her head rest on a raised foreleg.

“I’m sure I don’t know, ma’am,” the bartender said evenly. “But things have a way of working out.”

She could only snort in answer to that. “You didn’t see Carrot when Dr. Stable told him my… my oven works just fine. That it was Carrot who… I mean...” her words wound lazily away, followed by nothing more. She had lost her train of thought. “You don’t know Carrot like I do,” she finished at a guess.

“It does sound like he gave in to a bit of temper,” the barkeep said, still in that same quiet voice, low and level as the bar. “But no doubt he will come around when you go home. Time heals many wounds.”

Cupcake shrugged. “It’s the only thing I’ve ever known him to get riled up about. He’s always been sensitive about… anything he thinks questions his worth as a stallion. There’s so much pressure on us Earth Ponies, you know, that I don’t think other ponies get. He never lets on, but I know he’s always been worried about how thin and gangly he is… his brothers teased him too much growing up, they really did.”

“But of course, none of that matters to you.”

“Exactly!” she exclaimed, banging the glass emphatically on the bar. “Carrot loves me for who I am. I wish he could see I feel the same about him. I know he believes me, but… I know he doubts, too. So when the results came back…”

The bartender nodded knowingly. “Stallions do feel a great deal of pressure to maintain a certain… virility. Any question of his performance would be sure to bring hard memories and questions to the fore. And to face such sudden and final proof…” He left another drink in front of Cupcake. “I am sure he just needs time.”

“I’m scared,” Cupcake admitted, her voice suddenly small. She hadn’t even realized it until that moment, but the drinks seemed to be letting her thoughts flow more quickly and easily. “If… if we can’t have a family… will he still want me?” She gulped back a sudden sob. “We both wanted a family. It was our dream. But if he can’t have that… what if he just goes away? What if doesn’t want any of what we have anymore?”

“I’m certain that won’t be the case. It will be difficult to adjust for him, no doubt. But given time, everything will go back to normal.”

There was something hollow about the bartender’s words, Cupcake thought. In fact, when she thought about it, a lot of his responses had sounded very formulaic. But that’s just because we don’t know each other very much. He meant well, that was for sure. And he was probably right. She just wished Carrot was there, that he hadn’t been so angry as to bail on the trip at the last minute; that he hadn’t said he needed time alone to think about things; that he hadn’t looked so cold and distant, something Cupcake had never seen in his face before; that she wasn’t so scared to go home and learn what conclusions his lonely thinking might have brought him to.

She wished for another drink to distract her from the drowning tide of anxiety.

She looked down at the bar and blinked in surprise, then gave a sad little smile. At least Las Pegasus can grant one wish or two.

When she lifted her glass, she frowned as she noticed her face was wet. Confused, she wiped at her eyes with a napkin, and was surprised to realize there were tears streaming from her eyes.

Chapter 5 - What Happens in Las Pegasus...

Sunburst waved the bartender off when he offered another drink. He’d had enough for one night. Hay, I’ve probably had enough of this place for the whole trip, he thought grimly, giving the packed hotel and casino another glance. By now, he was nearly deaf with the din of metal and music pounding through the air every second. His friends were engulfed in that mess somewhere, as lost to him as the strangers that surrounded them.

He doubted it would be much quieter in his hotel room, but at this point, he would take anything. Just as he started to dismount from the precarious stool, it seemed the mare beside him had a similar notion. Instead of descending, however, she swayed, her hoof slipping on the metal ring step at the base of the stool, and with a low cry of surprise, she tumbled right towards him.

There wasn’t much time to think, and as a result, Sunburst’s own hooves fumbled and got tangled in his own chair as he tried to catch her. While he managed to get his forelegs around her, he himself fell and could only cushion her fall as she pushed them both onto the cold tiles below. Sunburst felt his breath knocked out of him and let out a grunt, but the mare was already pushing him away.

“Stop that, what are you doing?” she demanded, giving his chest another hard shove. His glasses, already hanging half-off his face, tumbled down to the floor with a clatter. “Get off me, get off! What even is this city? What kind of pony…”

She stopped as she managed to disentangle herself. Sunburst also pushed himself a little farther back, then folded his legs to push himself a little more upright. He blinked, then squinted at the pony staring back at him. He couldn’t see her clearly at all. Shoot. Where did my glasses go? Before he had time to look for them, however, the other pony had launched herself at him. Sunburst could only huddle in confusion and quickly-mounting terror as she fell onto him in a neck-crushing embrace.

“Oh, thank goodness!” she said, her shoulders heaving a few times as she either laughed or cried; for the life of him, Sunburst didn’t know which it was. She was saying something else, but he couldn’t make out the words. They were muffled as she nuzzled into his shoulder. His panic continued to mount as he realized the bartender and several other ponies were stopping and staring at him with mixtures of amusement and disgust.

“Oh dear,” he said, frozen in place. “Um… Are you alright?”

* * *

“You came,” Cupcake said, crying with relief into Carrot’s shoulder. The room still seemed to be spinning, but he was there, solid and sure, and nothing had ever brought her greater relief. He wasn’t upset anymore, and she didn’t have to endure this horrible city all alone. The color of his coat seemed off, but that was probably just due to all the artificial lighting spilling its hot, white rays everywhere. She could see the fringes of his orange mane, and the limbs had the same thin, spindly strength she knew so well. “Oh Carrot, I’m so glad to see you. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you already.”

“Oh dear,” Carrot said softly. She could just barely hear his voice over the pounding music and voices. “Um… Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she said, sniffing and wiping her eyes before pulling back and smiling at him. The lights were in her eyes, and she had to squint to bring him into focus. Oh, he’s got flour on his face again, she thought hazily, noting the white streak on his muzzle. Did he travel all the way down here like that? “I’m just so glad to see you. I’m already so sick of this place. I don’t know what we were thinking.”

“Uh, heh, yeah, I can see that…” Carrot said, giving her a nervous smile. “I guess Las Pegasus isn’t everypony’s cup of tea. I’m a little overwhelmed myself. Um, do you need help up?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” she said, pulling herself up. Her stomach gave a horrible lurch as the room swayed. “I haven’t had… that much to drink. Really.”

“Uh… that’s good,” Carrot said, getting up slowly to follow her. “Still, maybe you ought to take it a little easy. Is your hotel room far?”

Our room, Cupcake thought happily. “No, it’s just a few floors up, remember?” Her stomach gave another flip. The room was definitely swaying. Belatedly, she realized she could barely stand still. She kept leaning, and every time she attempted to straighten, she overcompensated and swayed too far the other way.

Ohhh… what was in those things? “And now that you mention it… oof… I might have had… one too many,” she admitted, giving him a sheepish, wobbly smile. She squinted with a bit of puzzlement at his mane again. It was especially frizzy from the journey, and there was an odd bit of color to the middle of it. It almost made him look like a Unicorn. But then the lights made her feel even sicker, and she looked away. “Didn’t feel like they were that strong. Could you help me upstairs, dear? I think I’m done for tonight.”

* * *

“Oh… uh… sure,” Sunburst stammered. In reality, following some stranger around the hotel, and a drunk mare at that, was about the last thing he wanted to do. She really does look done in, though, he thought, watching how she swayed where she stood. She overbalanced, and her hooves fumbled as she tried not to fall again. Sunburst darted forward and propped his shoulder up beneath her. In return, she gave him a huge, beatific smile.

“Thanks, dear,” she said. “Come on, it’s this way…”

She led him slowly through the bar towards the elevators at the back of the lobby. Sunburst glanced around, looking for his glasses, but they seemed to have disappeared. He wanted to stop and look for them, but with so many ponies wandering around, he realized they were probably already broken. At least I have my spares back in my room. He noticed the bartender watching them go with a slight frown, but then he shrugged to himself and starting mixing more drinks. Sunburst doubted it was an unusual sight for him in this city. Nothing for it, he lamented as the mare punched the call button. Still, it was the least he could do to make sure she got back to her room alright.

The doors to the elevator were so bright and polished, they looked like they were made of solid gold. Sunburst could see himself reflected in the almost mirror-perfect surface, smiling tremulously as the mare leaned contentedly against him. Her eyes were closed, and she was nuzzling into his neck again. Sunburst had never felt more awkward. Then the doors opened, the split in the doors perfectly pulling their images apart, and Sunburst walked her gently inside.

“Floor?” the bellhop inside asked, his hoof on the long lever controlling the lift.

“Six,” the mare said sleepily. A quick pull on the rod, and they were rising. The mare was leaning into him harder. The bellhop was giving them a slightly quizzical look, one eyebrow raised. Sunburst smiled nervously, and he looked away.

This probably doesn’t look great, Sunburst thought, sighing. I’m never coming back to this city.

The doors opened, and the mare led him slowly down a long hall. The carpet was red and gold and very plush underhoof. Sunburst couldn’t even hear their steps. The lights were dimmer here, more welcoming. They left soft shadows along the warm, cream-colored walls, and Sunburst caught more glimpses of their reflections in the gleaming number plates and doorknobs of the rooms. One thing was certain—this hotel was far nicer than the one his classmates had bargained for a few blocks away.

The mare didn’t seem inclined for much small talk, for which Sunburst was grateful. He felt flustered enough as it was. As they walked, he glanced down at her, curious about the pony he was helping. She seemed older than him, though not by very much. She wore her mane like an older mare, piled high in a practical manner, but with enough wave to it that she looked friendly instead of severe.

Her face was young, though. She was, he realized, somewhat attractive, in her way. She would probably be more so when she wasn’t inebriated. His eyes strayed down her back, glancing at her cutie mark. Baking, he thought. That made sense. He thought in spite of himself that she was a little more heavily built than some, but certainly not unpleasantly so. In fact, he realized that the gentle glow of the hall highlighted the curves of her legs, flanks, and shoulders with an astonishing and appealing softness.

He looked away, cheeks burning. Where did that come from? It had to be the prolonged close contact. Her fur was surprisingly soft and brushed against him constantly as she leaned against him. He could feel her right flank rising and falling against his, and now that he had noticed it, he couldn’t seem to put it out of his mind. The hallway suddenly felt very warm.

“Finally,” the mare said, pulling him aside to one of the doors. She fished a small key out from her mane, and with many fumbles, managed to get it into the lock and open the door.

“Well,” Sunburst said, breathing a sigh of relief. “I’m glad you’re alright. I better go back down and—”

“Downstairs?” the mare asked. She seemed strangely horrified. “No, not yet. You ought to at least get settled, come on.”

“Settled? I—hurk!” Sunburst was suddenly gripped by the shoulder and hauled bodily inside the room. For a mare who could barely stand, her strength was terrifying. Before he had staggered to a stop, the door was shut behind him.

The room was almost entirely dark. The only light came from a single, tiny lamp that had been left on in the far corner. He could barely even see the mare as she walked across the room. What is going on? His fear spiked, and any last vestiges of sleepiness from the two drinks had vanished in a cold wave of clarity. Was this some kind of trap? Am I with some kind of serial killer or organ harvester? He looked back at the door, limbs shaking in fear. Suddenly, all the horror stories he’d heard about Las Pegasus from the old noir days didn’t seem so absurd.

* * *

Cupcake walked over to the bed. She had noticed the champagne bottle earlier during her short-lived respite from the chaos. Apparently, every room came with a complimentary bottle. Probably why the rooms were so expensive, she thought as she glanced down at the half-melted bucket of ice.

What she should do, she knew, was dip one of the champagne flutes into the ice water and guzzle it down. She had a dim recollection that ponies were supposed to stay hydrated while drinking. In theory, it took the worst edge off the effects. But the elevator ride and walk to the room had sobered her just enough that the pleasant effects of the drinks were gone, leaving only the unsteadiness and mild nausea behind. She winced as she realized she could still hear music and shouting, either from downstairs or outside. Forget common sense, she thought. She just wanted that warm buzz back. She grabbed the cork in her teeth and, holding the bottle down with both hooves, pulled it free in one motion.

The champagne exploded, making her cough and splutter as she staggered back from it. She heard Carrot dart forward, turning the bottle away and stemming the flow with a small towel that had been left nearby. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Fine, fine,” she said, shaking her head. “Ugh, this place. Just pour me a glass.”

“Um…” Carrot sounded worried. “Are you sure you should be drinking more?”

“Probably not. I’ll stop after this.” She grabbed in the bottle in her mouth and poured. She spilled a little, and the glass was mostly foam when she was done, but that hardly mattered. She knocked it back. Oh, that’s better…

“Um… listen, I should… I should probably go…”

Confound him. How can he just arrive and then try to wander off already? Can’t he see I need him? “It’s not Pinkie, is it?” She clenched her eyes shut, trying to drown out more of the persistent noise from outside. With an irritated tug, she yanked out the pins holding her mane up, pulling out more than a few strands of pink hair with them. In spite of the painful twinges, however, she finally felt a little of the tension drain out as her mane fell to the sides of her face. “Don’t worry, she’s at the convention. She’ll be fine for an hour or two. Honestly, she’d probably be fine for the whole weekend. I can’t believe I let her drag us along for this.”

“Uh… that’s good… but—”

“She’s fine!” Cupcake snapped, setting the glass aside and pulling Carrot closer in front of her. Then she giggled. He still has flour on his face. She had to fight to keep her eyes focused on his face, and it was a losing battle. She reached up to brush the flour away, but only gave the broad, white streak on his muzzle a few fruitless sweeps before letting her hoof wander. She brushed the riotous mess of his mane aside, felt the long line of his cheek, the bony corner of his jaw. His eyes were wide and staring. He seemed to have forgotten how to breath.

She smiled. Oh come on, Carrot. Even you aren’t normally this easy to bring around. Maybe absence really does make the heart grow fonder.

“Stay here,” she whispered.

* * *

Sunburst thought he felt his heart stop. The brief bit of calm he had regained when he realized she was just going to get some champagne was utterly banished. Is she…? No. There was no question. She was definitely making a move on him. His limbs were frozen rigidly in place. His mind ground to a screeching halt, then turned around to rejoin his heart somewhere ten minutes behind the present. He needed to think, but all he could see were a few bright, silver flecks of light reflecting from somewhere in her half-lidded, deep pink eyes. Then she leaned in and enveloped his lips in hers.

If Sunburst had felt his eyes go wide before, now he thought they would burst out of his skull. “Mmph?!” The suffocated question never made it past his mouth, and it only made her lean deeper into him. He could taste citrus, and beneath it, the stale, acrid shadow of alcohol.

This is wrong, Sunburst thought. I need to get out of here. I should just leave. I should…

The mare wrapped a foreleg gently around his neck and started pulling him backward. His heart had restarted sometime in the past few seconds, and now he could feel it thundering against his ribs. She’s drunk. She isn’t thinking clearly. I need to leave. Now.

But his legs didn’t obey him. Instead, they stepped tentatively forward, following her as she pulled him slowly towards the bed. Her embrace was warm and gentle, yet inexorable in its strange affection. She lifted her mouth from his, only to kiss him again, slower and more deeply, almost feeling the shape of his lips with her own. He could feel her mane against one side of his face, surprisingly soft now that it was freed and hung loosely, almost playfully, around her shadowed face. She stroked slowly up and down his neck, the lightest of touches following the lines of muscle and bone, and he shivered involuntarily.

The fear was dying away; how could it not, against such warm and open affection? The confusion remained, but Sunburst felt himself starting to calm down against his will. A strange, curious desire was rising to replace his panic. In its place, a demanding, almost painful eagerness from deep in his heart seemed to come alive with wanting. He couldn’t believe it, but this strange, rootless passion she was showing him felt good. Very good.

She… she wants me, he thought dumbly, still staring down at her closed eyes in shock. Then she broke the kiss and smiled, a deep, velvet smile that went all the way into the depths of her eyes. He could only describe it as sultry. She had reached the bed, was climbing backwards onto it, pulling him forward. His heart started racing again.

“Uh…” His tongue was dry as paper. “Are you…” She’s drunk! Don’t!

But now there were other wants waking up in him. He was excited now, there could be no mistake about that. There was something about the sheer anonymity of it, the spontaneity, that both terrified and exhilarated him. His body’s responses to her caresses were in a category of their own. He had fantasized about what it would be like to finally be with a mare. Sometimes, that mare was just an attractive model or passerby he had seen on campus. Sometimes, for a few months, it had been Mercury Dream.

Now, he was staring deep into the eyes of this strange mare, a mare who would have him if he just let himself go. The golden light from the distant lamp lit only the edges of her body as she lay sideways in front of him. It illuminated the soft contours of her flanks, the long, gentle arc of her sides and neck. She dabbled her hooves gently over each other, moving her legs in small, teasing motions. She held his hoof in her own, and was still gently pulling him forward.

He swallowed and forced himself to take a few deep breaths. One by one, he started pushing aside his misgivings. I mean… I guess… what’s the harm? he persuaded himself. He hadn’t realized it until then, but he had been hurting. He had known, from the moment he left the CSGU campus, that he was soon to be totally alone. He had no friends at home to go back to. No idea where he might go next to try to find work. No one who wanted him.

Except now, just now, somepony had decided, on only a glance in a bar, that he was good enough to want for tonight. He was handsome enough, or kind enough, or maybe some other factor had made her choose him to spend a night with. It didn’t mean anything more. He wasn’t so delusional as to think it might magically lead to anything long-term. Indeed, he somehow doubted, from some deep sense in his mind, that they would be a good match at all. But right there, right then, she wanted him.

And curse him, but he wanted to be wanted.

And what the hay… it’s Las Pegasus. You’re only young and single once. This is what ponies come here for… right?

But still. He didn't want to take advantage of anyone. Not for anything.

“Are you…” he stammered again and licked his lips. “…Are you sure?”

* * *

Cupcake couldn’t help but giggle again. Even so, she felt a stab of sympathy in her heart, and it only made her need stronger. He’s still upset about the results, she realized. He’s ashamed… he’s afraid to be with me. Even after all this time.

She pulled just a little bit harder, and he stumbled as he fell half onto the bed. It was so dark, and the champagne so warm in her, that she could barely make out his features. It didn’t matter. She would show him that test results weren’t the final word. He was hers, and nothing was going to change that.

He climbed shakily onto the bed, kneeling over her as she rolled a little farther onto her back, playfully baring more of her chest and belly from the shelter of her legs. His eyes were so wide, and his breathing so loud, one might have thought this was his first time seeing her. It made her confidence soar. She could still affect him, still turn him speechless when she spun the right dials. She didn’t have to worry anymore. They would be alright. They were together again.

And who knows… She pulled him down completely onto her, molding her body to the shape of him as she wrapped her legs close around him. Test results aren’t everything… maybe… maybe tonight, we’ll get lucky.

After all… it’s Las Pegasus. Incredible things are suppose to happen here… right?

As she took his lips into her own and pulled him down, however, she froze as her hoof wandered through his mane.

Things were still happening, but in her mind, everything slowed down to a hazy crawl. …Unicorn?

Piecing thoughts together was like trying to pull sprinkles out of chocolate syrup. Ideas kept wandering away even as she tried to hold onto them, but she managed to get a good sense of enough of them to put a picture together in her mind. Little inconsistencies she had deliberately ignored were coming back and falling into place, and as she felt herself pushed deeper into the warm, soft mattress, she realized the truth.

Not Carrot, she thought blearily. I brought… somepony else back to my room. One part of her could hardly believe it; it might be the most clichéd thing in the world for a pony to do in Equestria’s most irreverent city, but for her, it seemed like the most incongruous act imaginable. She was a working housewife from Ponyville, of all places. Ponies from Ponyville didn’t do… this. Most of all, this pony wasn’t her husband. And if he wasn’t her husband, then she couldn’t be with him. It ought to have been as simple as that.

Even as she thought to push him away, though, she realized with a fresh wave of confusion and sadness that she didn’t want to. Instead, she pulled him closer, emotions and thoughts warring inside her as she tried to sort them through.

For a few minutes, she hadn’t been alone. Over all the other ideas in her mind, what she felt strongest of all was that she desperately didn’t want to be alone again. She wasn’t sure she would be able to take it. And so she clung to him all the more, this strange pony in a strange city who, for a time, had been so like Carrot that she had mistaken them for each other.

She wanted him to be Carrot. In some strange way, she also wanted Carrot to be this pony. She wanted him to be there, strong, reassuring, and most of all, willing. Not shutting her out in another city. And this pony, she realized, was more than just willing. He was excited. Excited the way Carrot had been that first night, when it had finally just been the two of them. It had never been quite the same for years, and only now did the difference seem meaningful.

And, she realized, thinking back to how poorly he had taken the news, now, he may not want to. He might not treat me like this ever again, if he doesn’t see a point to it.

Her hesitation and second-guessing melted away into the pleasant haze of the champagne once again. It was clichéd, but that also meant it made perfect sense, in a way. And this pony wasn’t afraid to be with a stranger; why should she be? This was the sort of thing that happened in Las Pegasus. And what happens in Las Pegasus…

She clung just a little more tightly to the thin pony. If Carrot was going to be afraid to be with her from then on, then she decided she ought to make what time she had left to herself count. She was going to enjoy it.

* * *

Hoops let his head bob lazily to the music from downstairs as he sauntered through the hotel hall. It had been two, maybe three in the morning when the party finally ran out of steam. The slot machines might have eaten all his bits, but who the hay cared? They had met up with a rival hoofball team and thrown one of the biggest parties Hoops had ever seen together. The other guys had more booze stocked up in their two adjoining rooms than they had known what to do with. In exchange, Score had lived up to his name and rounded up a pack of sultry-eyed mares to show them the time sports heroes deserved.

And hay howdy, but could those mares dance. Hoops didn’t know what it was about clothes. The idea of a pony covering up to make themselves even more alluring was contradictory as Tartarus, but he would be the last colt alive to deny it worked.

Or maybe it was just the clothes coming off. He could see a kind of logic to that. Enough to make him want to stop thinking about logic.

One of the doors opened a little ways ahead of him. Hoops tilted his head and squinted as a pony shuffled out, then quietly closed the door behind him. He was an orange Unicorn with paint markings, and he looked about as tousled as Dumbbell did after being knocked facedown on the court. He also seemed really jittery, looking around with quick jerks of the head and squinting every which way. The moment he spotted Hoops coming towards him, he skittered down the hall with his tail between his legs.

Huh, Hoops mused. Even his thoughts sounded pleasantly slurred to him. Wonder what that was about.

The same door opened just as he was passing by. He had only a moment to glance in, then gave a startled yelp as somepony grabbed him about the shoulders and dragged him inside.

“Just where do you think you’re going, big guy?” a voice said in his ear, the words blown in by fast, hot breathing. Ordinarily, Hoops could have thrown off even the biggest and burliest assailants, but he stumbled on the carpet and all but tumbled inside. He was about to start flailing, throwing wild punches to break the teeth of anyone stupid enough to get close, but finally, his drunken thoughts caught up to what he had heard. It was a soft voice that had spoken to him. A mare’s voice. And she had sounded even more inviting than Score’s hired mares had been paid to sound.

He lay on his back, legs raised crookedly over his body. He stared wide-eyed through the long, lank tangles of his mane. It was pitch black in the room, and he only caught a glimpse of the mare’s silhouette before she kicked the door closed behind her.

“I’m not done with you,” she said in a sing-song, playful mockery of annoyance. Then he felt her standing over him, and she planted a long, sopping-wet kiss in his mouth.

This mare’s insane, he thought, his mind spinning. Then she was on him, feeling him out, practically having her way with him in a hot, fast rush of lust. It was unbelievable.

He hadn’t even paid her.

Slowly, he let his eyes close as he settled into this new, very comfortable spot in the hotel.

…Eh. I can roll with this.

And those were his last coherent thoughts before he gave himself entirely to the stranger.

* * *

The room was definitely spinning this time. She had drunk three more glasses of champagne while Carrot took a short rest. Now, she couldn’t even keep her brain focused on a single sense. Trying to piece together sight, touch, smell, and sound left her unable to remember a single one, images and perceptions sliding past like oiled dough. Her body was moving rhythmically. Her skin and core were rippling with sensation. There was another body beneath her, all firm limbs and rippling muscles.

Carrot? She thought it was. She could barely see him in the dark, and focusing just confused her more. It was so much easier just to feel. So much easier to pull in close and focus on every inch of the strong muscles cleaving to her, the thin, hot sheen of salty sweat built up between them.

The sweeping, infinitely-fragmented expanse of his wings, at first splayed wide beneath them, rose up to brush over and pull her closer. Wings? The thought crawled half-noticed through her mind like a centipede. That was wrong. Carrot didn’t have wings. But she’d pulled Carrot back into the room as he’d been leaving to check on… who? But it had to be Carrot. His coat had been the right shade of orange. Close enough, anyway. It had to be him. Nopony else would be here with her, not like this. It was crazy even to imagine it.

Something else nagged at her mind, something she thought might be important. Something about the pony not being Carrot. She had the vaguest sense, though, that she’d already tossed such concerns aside. And as he pulled her farther down, enveloping her body even more in the embrace of his own, drawing her even further into the whirling nebula of sensation, everything faded into a total expanse of enjoyment she was not willing to emerge from. She smiled wider and squirmed, working herself a little more deeply down onto him. Carrot or not, she was enjoying it. And she was going to finish enjoying it.

Chapter 6 - A Bitter Balance

Starlight was quiet, but Sunburst knew her thoughts most certainly would not be. He thought he could hear her consciously controlling her breathing. Her eyes were unfocused, but cast down and away from his. He shifted uneasily in his seat, waiting. He had said everything he could say. It was out of his hooves now. His only comfort was that, even though he had broken his promise to Cupcake, she and Carrot would be safe from the consequences. Starlight would never breathe a word to anyone else. On top of her integrity, she had no reason to talk to anyone about it. She wasn’t involved, and she wouldn’t be burdened by the crushing guilt of the secret like Sunburst had.

That crushing weight, at least, had been lifted somewhat. Sunburst knew he would never be free of the guilt. But knowing that Starlight might harbor growing feelings for him, and that those feelings could never be returned without knowing this part of his past, had intensified the pain of it beyond Sunburst’s ability to bear. He hadn’t even realized just how terrible the guilt had become until it was gone.

Now, Starlight knew. Now, he could go back to simply feeling awful about his past choices. All that was left was a kind of resigned anxiety. Starlight might be able to forgive him, at least as much as was her part to do so. She might even be able to overlook the fact that pursuing him meant a relationship with a stallion who already had a foal. Then again, she might not. He wouldn’t blame her if that was her choice.

“So…” she finally said. She still didn’t look up at him. “Pumpkin and Pound are your foals, not Carrot’s.”

“Not Pound,” Sunburst said, biting his lip. Starlight looked up at him in confusion. “Pumpkin is my daughter. But it turns out I’m not related to Pound. There had to have been… um… more than one stallion that night. Shortly before or after.”

Starlight gave a small grimace. Was it disgust at their choices, or just how complicated the problem was? Sunburst supposed it didn’t really matter. “Does… does Carrot know?” she asked.

Sunburst shook his head. “That’s why Cupcake is so adamant I… not be around. That was part of the deal.”

“What deal?” Starlight asked. “And how did you even find out about Pumpkin?”

“After we left Las Pegasus, I… I couldn’t live with myself,” Sunburst explained. He rubbed one foreleg over the other, an old nervous habit. “I kept telling myself, ‘what happens in Las Pegasus stays in Las Pegasus.’ It was just a fling. Everything was alright. But I just couldn’t convince myself, I guess.”

“You never did seem the type,” Starlight said. She finally met his eyes with a small, pained smile. “You always took your friendships with everypony so seriously.”

“I guess,” Sunburst shrugged. “But we hadn’t been… careful. And I think maybe, somehow, I knew. Unicorns sometimes have a connection to their foals, sharing magic and all that. So, about five months later, I managed to track Cupcake down. When she took me to her room in Las Pegasus, I saw her name on her luggage tags, and I noticed the address on them was for Ponyville. That made it easy.”

“You seriously remembered something like that? Wow. I mean, you’ve got one hay of a memory, but I’d think even you would’ve been a bit too drunk to remember details like that.”

“I wasn’t drunk,” Sunburst said.

Starlight’s brow knit in confusion. “But… wasn’t that how the whole mess happened? You said you had a few drinks.”

“A few. Literally, two. More like one and a sip, really.” Sunburst shrugged. “By the time we made it upstairs, I wasn’t even feeling it. I was completely sober.”

“But then…” Starlight’s face went pale. “Why didn’t you stop it?”

The accusation hit like another slap to the face, but Sunburst took a deep breath. It was a fair question. “I know. And I should have. I wanted to, but…”

“You wanted to?” Starlight’s eyes narrowed in a glare. “Sunburst… she didn’t—”

“No,” Sunburst said. He looked her firmly in the eyes. “No one forced me into anything, Starlight.”

“Didn’t she?” Starlight asked, aghast. Sunburst wasn’t sure why, but it annoyed him slightly. This wasn’t what she was supposed to be fixating on. “You just said you wanted to stop it, so—”

“It wasn’t like that,” Sunburst said, rubbing his forehead with a hoof. “I wanted to stop it because I knew what I was doing was wrong. It was stupid, unsafe, and worst of all, she was the one who’d been drinking. If anything…” he broke off, tapping his hooves together nervously. The well of hatred he felt for himself was threatening to overflow again. “If anything, Starlight… wasn’t it me taking advantage of her?”

That brought Starlight up short. Sunburst could see her clench and unclench her teeth, the muscles flexing beneath her cheeks as she thought. “That’s… Okay, that does complicate things. Though, she was the one who initiated it, right?”

“Yes. She was… very determined.”

“Well, then—”

“Even so, though, I should’ve stopped it. But… I didn’t even try. I never said no, and I didn’t try to leave, not once. I went along with it. I responded to her advances at every stage, and I even encouraged her by the end. Because I was young, I was stupid, and I decided to have a fling. I decided to stay there, Starlight. It’s on me.”

Starlight only stared at him for a few moments. The worry on her face never lessened. “I don’t know, Sunburst. Yeah, this is complicated, but I don’t know if I like how much of the blame you’re taking. Not with how you’ve described everything to me.”

What the hay is this? Sunburst thought, staring at her in exasperation. That’s the whole point, to get it out in the open how I’m to blame for all this. I have a foal out of wedlock, for Celestia’s sake! With a married mare! She should be telling me to get out of Ponyville by now.

“Look… we both decided to go through with it,” Sunburst insisted. “For reasons just as stupid as the other’s. When we met in Ponyville, we even managed to agree on that much before we started trying to figure out what to do. I’m just trying to own my responsibility for it. Whatever the consequences, I decided to accept them. Including…” his voice broke, and he had to look away. “…Including whatever you decide to do.”

“Whatever I decide to do?” Starlight asked. “What are you talking about?”

Sunburst grit his teeth. Is she still not seeing what all this means? “I have a foal, Starlight,” he said, stamping the cushion in frustration. “I slept with a mare I didn’t even know, and she was married!”

“Yes,” Starlight said slowly. Now she looked a little exasperated. “You were pretty clear on all those points.”

“So…!” Sunburst exclaimed, waving a hoof vaguely. “So… is that all you’re going to say about it?”

Starlight blinked a few times. “Just what exactly do you want me to say?”

Sunburst realized he had his mouth open to speak, maybe even to yell. He realized he was glaring at her. But there were no words. Everything in his mind had run together. The anger was now warring with the guilt so strongly, it was tearing him apart. And it was all because Starlight wasn’t listening to him. Why is she drawing this out?

Starlight raised an irritated eyebrow when he didn’t answer. “Do you want me to tell you that you were stupid? That you shouldn’t have slept with some random mare in Las Pegasus?” She leaned back and crossed her forelegs. “Do you want me to yell at you or something? Because I don’t really see the point. I’d just be telling you everything you already know. You’re the one who just told me, after all.”

“Well, I guess I expect some kind of answer,” Sunburst said desperately. “I mean, don’t you care about what I just said at all?”

“Of course I care! But what do you want me to do about it? You made a stupid mistake. Fine. You have a foal. Okay. So do lots of ponies. The foal’s mother is married. Yeah, that’s a bigger problem. What am I missing that you want?”

“Don’t you…” Sunburst burned with shame. “I need to know how this changes things. Between us.”

For a moment, Starlight only continued to frown at him. Then, “It doesn’t.”

The only thing that kept Sunburst’s anger from exploding was incredulity. “How does this not change anything?”

From the way she looked at him, she might have been someone’s professor, listening patiently while a student spouted an especially absurd theory. The long-suffering tolerance in her expression was too absolute to upset him further. “Look Sunburst, if you want me to yell at you, I can. I don’t know how many times each of us has to say it: You. Made. A mistake. Are we past that?”

She waited with a raised eyebrow until he gave an annoyed shrug in assent.

“Alright. So that’s that. You’re talking about this like you cheated on me or something, Sunburst. But it’s not like we were together then. We’re not even together now.” She gave another shrug. “As to whether that precludes anything more in the future… I’m not some doe-eyed filly looking for her first prom date, Sunburst. I’m not still living under the delusion that ponies lead pristine, scripted lives while they wait for the perfect mate to come along.”

She stood, walked over, and sat down next to Sunburst. She laid a hoof over Sunburst’s, and he tried not to flinch at the contact. “I don’t really have the privilege of expecting other ponies to have perfect pasts, Sunburst.” She gave him a wry grin, and he couldn’t help a small chuckle in response.

“That doesn’t mean I can expect you to accept me,” he said weakly.

“No,” she said, “But the fact that you care does. Ponies our age have baggage from their mistakes. Some ponies have foals they didn’t plan on having. Some have entire villages of ponies that used to be enslaved because of them.” She laughed, but she still looked away, and her smile was a strained one. “If Twilight’s taught me anything, it’s that all ponies are jerks sometimes. It’s the ones who care enough to try and change that are worth keeping around. So, I guess I would be a lot more upset if I thought you didn’t care. But it’s pretty clear to me that you do care about it. Deeply.”

“I do,” he said, his voice thin. “It’s not just that I have some responsibility for how things have turned out. I want to live up to that, yeah. But… she’s my daughter, Starlight. And she’s so, so beautiful.” Sunburst hung his head, feeling the hot tears burn the edges of his eyes as they fell. “She should have an honest mother and father, not this mess. But every night, I go to sleep knowing she’s growing up and doesn’t even know I exist. I hate myself for that.”

“You want to be part of her life,” Starlight said quietly.

Sunburst nodded vigorously. The lifted weight of finally being able to confide that truth to someone was somehow greater even than confessing his deepest shame. “I always dreamed of having a daughter, Starlight. I don’t even know why. Most stallions want colts, right?” He gave a shaky laugh. “I don’t know. Once I started thinking about it at school, I just… really loved the idea of a little filly I could teach about books and history. Visit old cities and ruins. Watch her graduate one day. Threaten her first coltfriend a little, just in a teasing sort of way.” He wiped a foreleg across his face, clearing some of the tears. “Stupid dreams, I know.”

“I don’t think so,” Starlight said with a gentle smile.

“It just seemed like… something I could do, I guess. I knew I was never going to be one of the world’s great wizards. But I could have a good family. I could do that.” He laid his ears back and gave a broken sigh. “Apparently I couldn’t even get that right.”

“Well, that’s in the past,” Starlight said gently. “It doesn’t mean there isn’t still something you can do for the future.”

“What future?” Sunburst asked. “Am I supposed to just forget about all of this? Even if I had more foals, how could I look at them and not remember the daughter I left behind? I don’t know that I can live with that, Starlight.”

“That’s something I still don’t fully understand,” Starlight said, knitting her brow. “What exactly was the deal Cupcake worked out with you?”

* * *

“When I woke up… I knew what I'd done,” Cupcake said. Her voice was hollow with regret and shame. “I was alone, but… I remembered enough. And I realized as soon as I thought about it that Carrot never came to Las Pegasus. And to this day, I don’t know… I don’t know what to believe. I don’t know if I really mistook a stranger for him, or… or if I just let myself believe that. Just for long enough. Just long enough to… to fight the loneliness? To forget?” She gave a bitter laugh. “To live out some kind of fantasy? I don’t know… But I know that, at some point, I realized what I was doing, and I convinced myself to do it anyway. And I know that I hate myself for it. I hate myself every minute of every day.”

Applejack sat staring at Cupcake. She wanted to look away, pay attention to the dregs of tea that had gone cold in front of her. But Cupcake was watching her too, waiting for some kind of response.

Applejack couldn’t help it. She looked away, then covered the failing with a rough clearing of her throat. “Well, er, hm. That’s… whoa nelly. That’s a story, Cupcake.”

“You’re telling me,” Cupcake said, hanging her head.

“And Pinkie… she don’t know either?”

Cupcake shook her head. “She never came back to the room. She was with the con goers all night. By the time she came back, I had… straightened everything up. She knew something had gone wrong, but I managed to convince her the city just made me uncomfortable.”

“Wow. I suppose… I guess you got lucky on that.”

“Luck,” Cupcake spat. “Maybe if I’d been lucky, she would have caught me. Maybe she would have cracked to Carrot by now and this nightmare would be over. Maybe she could have stopped me, and I wouldn’t have these foals to—”

She choked on whatever she had been about to say. Her lips trembled, and she buried her face in a hoof. “No. No. I don’t wish that. I really don’t. I decided that as soon as I knew. And no one could ask for foals so… so beautiful. None of this is their fault.” She took a deep breath, then straightened to face Applejack again. “So… you understand why Carrot can’t ever know about any of this. You can imagine what it would do to him. Especially now, when we’ve already lost almost everything. I just… I just need to get Sunburst out of here so we can go back to rebuilding.”

“That’s something I don’t get,” Applejack said, seizing on a way she could keep the conversation going until she could process everything she had heard. “What exactly did you two work out? And what’s he doing here? Land sakes, why does he even know?”

“He tracked me down a few months after,” Cupcake sighed. “Celestia knows how. But by that time, I was already visibly pregnant. He knew from the moment I opened the door. I’m fairly certain there was a lot of panicking on both our parts. If Carrot hadn’t been out making a delivery, everything would have been over there and then. And If I had been thinking more clearly, I would have just told Sunburst I’d already confirmed the foals were Carrot’s. But he asked outright, and I was too stunned to deny it.” Cupcake fiddled with the empty cup in her hooves, tilting it back and forth.

“So… what happened?”

* * *

“I offered to move to Ponyville,” Sunburst said. “I said I didn’t want to make any trouble… I didn’t want to upset the family. But I figured I ought to have some part in raising Pumpkin. I’d help with the money, take care of her some days… whatever arrangements families usually work out when… things like this happen. But she said no. And a lot more besides.”

* * *

“He wanted to know if I’d hold him accountable for foal support,” Cupcake finally said, meeting Applejack’s eyes again. “I told him no. I told him all I cared about was keeping my family together. So long as he kept our secret, then as far as I was concerned, we would go our separate ways and never worry about each other again. I only asked that he keep as far away from Ponyville as possible.” She shook her head in disbelief. “I think he took me a little more seriously than I thought he would. After the twins were born and the Empire reappeared, he left everything behind and went there. He grew that nasty beard, too.”

Applejack furrowed her brow. “And that was enough for him?”

“I thought so,” Cupcake said, a bitter note creeping into her voice. “I mean, isn’t that what they’re always after? A quick roll in the hay and getting off scot-free? I know most stallions would be thrilled to tuck their tails and run, that’s for sure. But… he kept in touch.” Cupcake shook her head, an enraged disbelief showing that, Applejack was realizing, had been with her for years. “He was discrete, at least. I only heard from him twice. But it was always the same thing, offering to move back and help take care of Pumpkin. Celestia’s sake, Applejack, can you imagine?”

Cupcake set the teacup down and fixed Applejack with a stare so intense, it would repel Tirek himself. “What kind of stallion keeps threatening to come back and break up a mare’s family, just to keep her promising she won’t demand foal support?”

* * *

“And that’s why you’re here now,” Starlight said. “Sugarcube Corner.”

Sunburst gave a miserable nod. “She wrote to me. She asked if I would help for Pumpkin’s sake, but that all the other terms still had to apply. I still wasn’t allowed to see her.” Sunburst held up a hoof, grimacing at Starlight’s outraged expression. “She… worded it a lot better than that. She wasn’t demanding anything. But I had to at least know Pumpkin was alright.”

“Still,” Starlight growled. “I understand why she’s scared to lose Carrot. But that’s a twisted move, asking for money without even letting you see your own daughter.”

“And I don’t care about the money!” Sunburst cried. “She’s been holding that over me like it’s some sort of threat, like she’s rewarding me for helping her keep up her lies by letting me go on being a bachelor. But I’d give every bit in the Empire’s coffers to be a part of Pumpkin’s life. I stay away because… well, she’s right. If Carrot learns the truth, it’ll tear their family apart. And I won’t do that to Pumpkin.”

“So… where does that leave you?”

“The same place I’ve been,” Sunburst said, giving a long shrug. “Not much else I can do. I’ll just go back to the Crystal Empire.”

“What about… will you help, I mean? With Sugarcube Corner?”

“I can’t. I already explained it to Cupcake. I can’t give out any money because of my attachment to the Empire.”

“But Sunburst,” Starlight said, “You’re Princess Cadence’s court wizard! Maybe she can’t just give money out to every disaster-stricken family in Equestria, but money’s not the only way to help. Cadence has enough liberty to take some time to help a friend’s family. Twilight does it all the time!”

“Cadence can not become involved in this,” Sunburst sighed wearily. “First off, I think the stress of it might actually kill Cupcake. But more to the point… Cadence is the Princess of Love, Starlight. She still sees it as her personal mission to resolve relational disputes. But she’s… she’s very idealistic. She thinks every problem can be solved if everyone is open, honest, forgiving, and a little push from magic. That’s not going to work here.”

“But… it’s her special talent. Surely she can help, even if it’s a bit more complicated.”

“Complicated doesn’t begin to describe this, Starlight. Cadence is talented, but she’s also not as experienced as ponies usually take for granted. She’s never had to deal with something this messed up. Remember, she’s only a few years older than Twilight.”

“Or you,” Starlight interrupted. “Sunburst, you’re so determined to prove that no one can help, but you don’t have any more qualifications than anyone else. Why do you need to fix this?”

“Because I helped start it. I have to see my part through. Whatever… whatever that part has to be.”

* * *

“Are you sure it’s a threat?” Applejack asked. “I mean, I don’t know him too well, but Sunburst’s a good pony. Shining Armor and Cadence sure think the world of him. Maybe he just genuinely wants to help.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter,” Cupcake said. “It’s how I remember it. But if he gets involved, we lose everything. I’m right about that much, aren’t I?”

“Well…” Applejack said slowly. She knew she had to be careful. An entire family’s lives were at stake, including those of two very young, innocent foals. Pumpkin and Pound didn’t need to grow up with a bunch of ponies fighting over them. But one thing at least was clear to Applejack. “I don’t know how long that can work, Cupcake.”

Cupcake’s face went a few shades paler. “What do you mean?”

Applejack gave a nervous shrug. “I sure don’t blame you for doing what you’ve done so far. You’ve put your family first, and you’re trying to work through a real nasty mess. But… well. This is just my thinking. But maybe it’s time to consider trying something else. I’m scared for you, sugarcube. When I came in here, knowing what I knew, that alone just about killed you. How much of this stress have you been buckling under, carrying it around every day?”

“I’ve gotten by,” Cupcake said stiffly. “Applejack, I’m not looking to fix this. Some things, you fix. Others, you just have to endure. And that’s what I decided I’d do. This was my mistake. I won’t let Carrot or the twins be hurt for it.”

“And that’s right noble,” Applejack said gently. “But what if enduring ain’t enough? I’m worried a secret this big might not keep. Cracks are already showing, aren’t they? Sunburst’s walking around injured, and now I know too.”

Cupcake was breathing hard. Applejack didn’t even want to think what her heart rate could be at that moment. “And just what are you saying I should do?”

“Take control. Whatever happens, at least you’ll have had a hoof in it. Otherwise, you’re just waiting for whatever comes next to hit you like a prairie dog on the train tracks.”

“How can I take control?” Cupcake asked, her voice rising. “I tried that already. I tried to get Sunburst’s help so the foals would have a home again. It made everything a thousand times worse! What else can I even change?”

“You know the truth of most everything that’s happened. The truth’s a powerful thing to be able to work with, Cupcake. But it doesn’t work if it gets out without you.”

“…You want me to tell Carrot,” Cupcake breathed. “Are you insane?”

“I ain’t telling you to do one thing or the other.” Applejack stood up slowly. “I only know things tend to go pretty bad when secrets get out. And it seems like things are pretty risky right now. It’s something you could do to keep the worst from happening. And besides, you and Carrot love each other. Ain’t no one questioning that, not before, and not now. Isn’t it what couples do? Face problems together. Even if one of them might have helped cause the problem. Maybe that’s what you need to do now. With him.”

“And if it’s the last problem we face together?” Cupcake’s face was ash, and her eyes were unfocused. She wasn’t looking at Applejack, and Applejack couldn’t tell if she was even entirely in the same room anymore. The terror was petrifying her again.

Applejack took a deep breath before answering. She hoped Cupcake wouldn’t hear how her own voice was breaking with fear. She needed to be strong now for her friend. “Then you still won’t be alone. You’ll have friends for whatever comes next. But telling him is the only way forward that I see.”

She turned and started to head to the door. There wasn’t anything more she could say. It was Cupcake’s choice to make now, and she needed to think. It was time for Applejack to get out of the way. At the door, however, she paused. “I meant what I said, though. This ain’t my secret. Personally, I really do hope you won’t decide to carry it any longer than you already have. But I won’t take it from you, either. You’ve got my promise. And no matter what happens, you’ll have the Apples as friends.”

She heard the words as she let herself out the door. “…thank you, Applejack.”

Applejack shuddered from the sheer breaking of tension she felt as she walked out of the guest suite. She could feel herself trembling a little with every step. Well, I sure as sugar didn’t expect that to happen today. Land sakes, though… I hope I didn’t just make a huge mistake.

* * *

“Hey Hoops, you coming to McClint Hock’s tonight?” Score called, hanging his scuffed white helmet in his locker.

“Not tonight,” Hoops answered, pulling his own hard hat off his head and shaking his long mane out of his eyes. The white coat followed. The weather factory uniforms were some of the dumbest-looking things he could imagine wearing, and that was counting the cheap flight school uniforms he’d had to put up with all through college. Still, a job was a job, and something had to pay his share of the rent.

“Aw, come on,” Score whined. “Don’t tell me you’re still mooning over that mare. Is it even the same one this week? What’s-her-face? Or was that the who dumped you a few months ago?”

“That was Candy,” Hoops grumbled. “And I left her. She was getting really clingy. It was creepy.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Score laughed. “Come on, you’re just going to get dumped by this one in a few weeks. You haven’t hung out with us in ages! We’re starting to worry you’re going all, you know…” he waggled his eyebrows in a manner he probably thought looked clever. “…‘domestic.’ ”

“Hey, come on, it’s not like that,” Hoops said, shaking his mane again. “It’s just… I got a good feeling about this one.”

“Sure, sure. You let me know when I need to bother remembering this one’s name. And if you bring her back, remember, hang the dang jersey on the door this time, alright?”

Hoops opened his mouth to argue, then settled for a sigh and an eye roll. “Yeah, whatever. Tell the guys I said hi, yeah?”

“Tell ‘em yourself one of these nights!” Score shot back with a challenging grin, then trotted out of the room. Hoops turned back to the small mirror in his locker and frowned at his reflection. Grabbing a comb, he started smoothing out the mess the hard hat had left of his mane. He didn’t know why Score’s banter seemed to be annoying him more lately. They knew each other well enough to diss each other’s fillyfriends, even if Score’s were always the sleazier picks of the lot.

And most mares like to hear their coltfriends joke about them, right? That made him grimace, though. Somehow, he knew this one wouldn’t much care for hearing the way Hoops bantered with Score about her. Maybe that was why he had been doing it less and less.

He laid the comb down and admired his efforts. Nice and wavy, just the way they love it. He winked at himself in the mirror, even though he could barely see his own eyes. That was another perk of his expert manestyle, he figured. A bit of a mysterious look was always a good thing for a colt. It made him look a little dangerous. He finished off his efforts with a few splashes of cologne on his neck, and a little below the wings for good measure. He paused, glanced at the bottle with a thick, raised eyebrow, then shook his head and set it back in the locker. Maybe Score’s right, though. When did I ever bother with this kind of stuff?

Still, he liked how it made him feel sharper as he walked out of the factory. And he liked that it seemed to have an effect on others, too. Anything that bolstered his already-incredible appearance couldn’t hurt. He gave himself a long, luxurious stretch as he balanced on the edge of the cloud, arcing his wings to their fullest, impressive extent as he worked his body down, then up again.

These longer shifts are really doing a number on me. He missed the days when he was only working a few hours a week, leaving plenty of time to keep an eye on the pro hoofball players and practice his own moves. Lately, however, the apartment he shared with Score and Dumbbell had been feeling not only cramped, but somehow… dingy. He’d taken plenty of mares back there, but lately, the thought of it made him cringe a little. It was a long way off, but if he could get his own place, that would give his status an enormous boost. Plus, he wouldn’t have to deal with Dumbbell’s snores shaking the walls.

He spread his wings, wincing a little at the sore muscles, and stepped off the cloud.

He didn’t let himself fall for long, just enough to get some lift under his wings. He didn’t want to fly too fast and muss his mane any more than he could help it, and even from this height, his destination was only ten minutes away. He cut through the night air at a steep angle, the air rumbling past him like cold butter. Already, he could feel some of the fatigue from the workday falling away from him as he glided down. It didn’t matter that the cloud-spinner had jammed again; he had a date, and it was more than enough to give him a second wind for the night. He smiled a little wider, anticipating the night ahead of him.

Lights started to shine out below, and he leveled off his descent. He picked out the spot easily and angled sharply towards it. As he swept down into the circle of light spilling from the windows onto the ground, he killed the last of his momentum with a quick upward leap and then fell heavily to the earth. A quick dusting with his wings cleared any dirt he might have picked up.

He glanced up and down the road, but it was empty. Smiling, he walked up the steps and let himself in through the door without a sound. I’m a little early, so I’ll give her a surprise. That’ll be fun. Quietly, he made his way through the warm house as he searched for his new fillyfriend. The air was so warm inside, it was already loosening his muscles and relaxing him more. Oh yeah, I needed this after a day like today.

That was the thing about her. No matter how hard a day he’d had, she always seemed to make him feel like it had been worth it. It was strange, but she made him feel proud to be putting in more time at the factory and the practice court instead of spending all his time at the bar or watching games at home with Score and Dumbbell. He hadn’t ever felt proud to be working such a stupid job before, but she seemed to like that he did. So, strangely, he liked it too.

Maybe Score was right. Maybe he was changing. The strangest thing about it, though, was that he didn’t mind.

He spotted her as he snuck into the living room, sprawled with her back to him on the sofa. He could just see her over the top of the couch, her long legs stretched out behind her. A fire was burning in the hearth across from her, and its light danced off of her in golden waves that nearly made his heart stop. He cleared his throat. “Hey.”

She turned, and the entire room seemed to glow when she laid those shining emerald eyes on him and smiled. Celestia help him, but somehow, that smile always made him feel like almost a different pony. She looked tired, even more so than usual. But that was fine. He knew he certainly needed to unwind, and he realized he would be happy to return the favor. She tipped her hat back a little and scooted over to make room for him.

“Hey, sugarcube.”

Chapter 7 - More Than Meets the Eye

“It’s just so… wrong,” Rainbow said. Her lip was pulled back in a mildly disgusted scowl as she followed Applejack down the path towards Ponyville Park. Rainbow had just finished clearing the skies of the morning’s rain showers, and the air still smelled of freshly rinsed leaves and the living, dampened soil. The track was a little muddier than most ponies would have liked, but Applejack had already finished her shift at the market apple cart. Nopony would care if her hooves needed a wash.

She gave a heavy sigh. “Come on, Rainbow, how many times are we going to go through this?”

“I’m sorry!” Rainbow exclaimed, throwing a hoof dramatically over her head. “It’s just… seriously, AJ, you have to see how weird it seems. I mean, look, it’d make sense if it was a bad one-night-stand kind of thing. He’s attractive, I get it. He’s got great muscles, sure. But what more could you possibly see in him?”

“Isn’t that the point of dating? To try to figure that out?”

“Usually.”

“Well, why else would I be spending time with him?”

“Blindness. Bad ideas,” Rainbow said with a markedly casual shrug. Then, she couldn’t keep her eyes from wandering away when she said, “Sending messages to other ponies.”

“Messages?” Applejack asked, her brow furrowing in confusion. “What kind of—” her eyes widened as she finally understood Rainbow’s implication. “Is that what this is about, Rainbow? You don’t think I’d stoop to something so horrible, do you?”

“Well…” Rainbow looked away, hiding her hurt behind an angry scowl. “What other reason would you have for picking him, of all ponies? You know what kind of past he and I have.”

Applejack winced and instinctively started to move her hoof to take Rainbow’s. She managed to stop before it interrupted the pace of her walk, but even so, she hoped Rainbow hadn’t noticed. “Oh, sugar… I mean, Rainbow.” Another wince. They had gotten past almost all the awkwardness that had risen up between them, and now old habits had to go and start waking up out of nowhere. All the turmoil with Cupcake the other day had stirred up her own confused emotions more than she thought. “I never… I know things ain’t ever been friendly between you two, and there’s no one to blame for that but him. That’s a fact. I almost shut the door on it from the get-go on account of that alone.”

“So?”

“He’s…” Applejack paused, trying to piece together her own reasoning. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t asked herself the question. But how could she help Rainbow understand when she herself sometimes wondered if she wasn’t putting logic on the back burner in favor of feelings? “He’s got some rough edges, and he’s got some growing up to do. More than a colt his age ought to. I won’t try to pretend otherwise on that. But there’s… I don’t know,” she hedged again, rubbing the back of her neck out of irritation with herself. “I guess I feel like I see something more in him.”

Rainbow let out a bark of laughter, and she didn’t seem to be making much effort to conceal the bitter scoffing it carried.

“Yeah, go on, laugh,” Applejack sighed. “But I do. He acts like an idiot—”

“Worse than an idiot,” Rainbow countered, frowning.

“Sometimes he has,” Applejack agreed patiently. “But honestly, the more time I spend with him, the more I think there’s a good, solid pony in there somewhere, and the rube he walks around like is a sort of act. I mean, he started acting like this way back when y’all were little foals. It doesn’t really surprise me that he’s never quite figured out how to fit in without it. Kind of like he’s got this nasty dragonskin he’s learned to wear for everypony, and now since they all think it’s what he looks like, he just keeps wearing it to keep them happy.” She shrugged. “I think he’s built it so thick, even he doesn’t really think about what a good core he’s got. But I think it’s there. I guess I want to stick around and see if it sprouts true.”

“You reforming Hoops. Well, I guess if Fluttershy can tame Discord, nopony’s off the table.” Rainbow’s words were light, but she couldn’t conceal the frustration behind them, at least not from someone who knew what to look for.

Applejack leaned a little farther forward, trying to get Rainbow to meet her eyes again. “Come on, Rainbow. It ain’t just a matter of him being attractive, even if some of that was what first drew my eye. But as it’s gone on, there’ve been a few things he and I just… see eye to eye on. But one thing’s for sure: I’d never string along another pony just to get under your skin. I’d never do that to them, and I sure as hay would never, ever do something like that to you.”

“I know…” Rainbow sighed. “I’m just… I’m worried about it, AJ. I don’t want to see you get hurt. I had to grow up around him, and I never saw a feather’s worth of weight to any of this good stuff you supposedly see in him. Aren’t you supposed to speak up if you think your friend’s getting into a bad relationship?”

“You are,” Applejack said, giving Rainbow an earnest smile. “And I appreciate you worrying about me. Really, I do. And if you think he ain’t doing right by me, you’ve got every right to say so, either to him or me. But,” she straightened up a little, tipping her hat and giving a confident grin, “just remember who you’re talking to. I think I can handle myself.”

“Heh. Yeah.”

Applejack frowned at the sudden distance in Rainbow’s voice. She leaned forward again, fixing her eyes on Rainbow’s with a concerned frown. “Hey… It is just about it being Hoops, isn’t it? Because I thought… well. I thought we’d both moved on. You’ve been out with a few gals since then, so I figured we were alright, so to speak. But if there’s still something unresolved between us…”

“No,” Rainbow said. She shook her head firmly. “I mean, if you say there isn’t, then there isn’t.” Guilt pulled her eyes away, and she pretended to be examining the trees they passed instead. “You’re the one who got hurt, after all.”

“I’m over it,” Applejack said, not unkindly. “You made the right call, and we both knew it. I ain’t hiding any hard feelings over it, Rainbow. You got my word on that.”

“Heh. You’re about the only pony whose word I’d take on something like that. Still, it means I was right in the first place.” She gave Applejack an impish grin. “Your taste in rebounds just sucks.”

Rainbow left Applejack before they reached the park. As much as Applejack wished Rainbow and Hoops might be able to start mending bridges, she figured that probably wasn’t going to happen quickly. Even the mention of Rainbow still sent Hoops into an instant regression to his comfortable, competitive, sneering persona, and neither Applejack nor, it seemed, Rainbow Dash were in a mood to try to work through it today. As such, she continued on alone to the buckball courts. Hoops was there already, casually kicking balls through the air and into the stationary buckets at either end of the court.

“Hey AJ,” he said, looking up with a smile as he noticed her approaching. He was quick to cock his head a little more and try to sculpt the grin into something he probably thought looked more suave, but Applejack only chuckled and shook her head.

“Heya Hoops,” she said, her steps thudding with a more muted beat as she stepped off the gravel path and onto the dry grass of the court. She flashed him a cocky grin of her own and tossed her hat to the side. “You ready to get your flanks served to you again?”

“You keep telling yourself that, AJ,” he said, flaring his wings and snapping the ball between them a few times. “I won the last two games, as I recall.”

“Yeah, well, keep your hooves on the ground and play a fair game this time, and then we’ll see how long you’re smirking.”

Hoops rolled his eyes and folded his wings, then kicked the ball to Applejack. “Ladies first.”

One-on-one buckball was a much slower game than the six-player variant. No one moved the baskets around, or focused on intercepting the ball, or disrupted players. Instead, the two ponies harassed each other back and forth across the court, stealing the ball or blocking shots whenever possible, and otherwise simply trying to get the ball in the opponent’s basket. When ponies of mixed kinds played, the game almost always defaulted to Earth Pony rules. Hoops, however, had gotten into an annoying habit of using his wings to launch himself over Applejack’s head when he started losing, never actually flying but still flouting the rules. This time, however, she had a plan if he tried it again.

For the first round, she casually wove around him, keeping the ball dancing around her forelegs and around her back as she forced him to retreat, then flipped it easily around to her hind legs with her tail and sent it flying in a high arc into his basket. As soon as it rebounded to the ground, he was charging her with it, keeping the ball balanced firmly between his shoulder blades as he tried to power past her using sheer speed and bulk. Applejack only smiled and gave him the ground he so clearly wanted. When he thought he was in range, he tossed the ball into the air, turned, and struck out with his hind legs in a kick that would have sent it smashing through the wooden basket.

Except he never connected. His legs snapped out behind him as he overextended, and Applejack laughed aloud as she saw his eyes go wide with shock. By the time he hit the ground, his breath going out of his burly chest with an audible grunt, she had landed from her sprinting jump over him, the ball firmly gripped in the crook of her left foreleg. “Gotta be quicker’n that!” she called with another laugh, trotting across the court as he struggled to his hooves.

“No fair!” he yelled as she tossed the ball into his basket. He glowered at her from behind his long mane as she returned to center court, but she could see the calculating gleam flaring up behind his eyes.

“You Pegasi,” she said, shaking her mane as he plucked the ball out of his basket. “You’re so used to being the fastest. You never know what to do with somepony faster and more agile than you.”

“Faster, maybe,” he said. “Only reason you can keep up is ‘cause I’m stuck on the ground, though. Out of courtesy, remember. Game’d be over already, otherwise.”

“You think so?” She turned her back on him and flicked her tail dismissively. “You just try it, see how well it works out for you.”

She hoped she hadn’t overplayed her cards. If she made him suspicious, he might just start flying out of spite to prove his point. A second later, however, and she didn’t need to worry anymore. He was already too focused on the goal in front of him, his head completely in the moment and blind to the bigger picture. She heard his hooves thundering on the grass behind her, and she hid her smile as best she could as she whirled and crouched into a wide, defensive block.

He carried the ball in his teeth, a sure sign he was in all or nothing. His mane was blown back from his face with the speed of his charge, flowing and rippling behind him and giving Applejack a rare glimpse of his green eyes. Such athletic charges were about the only time the manestyle actually worked like Hoops probably intended it to. In that moment, he went from looking cagey, calculating, and sloppy to clear-eyed, focused, and startlingly strong. His bulk, which would have made him stand out even among Earth Ponies, let alone Pegasi, went from shapeless and slouched to channeled lines of muscle, tightening his body into a honed instrument, a javelin bearing down on Applejack with the force of a hurricane.

The transformation was almost enough to make Applejack hate to ruin it for him. Almost. Indeed, if he kept to the rules, she might just let him barrel her out of the way and claim his goal.

But… nope, she thought, her smile widening just a smidgen as she saw the muscles around his wings tighten. She had goaded him too far, stirred up his competitive edge too easily, for him to try anything else except a clear proof of his superiority. As he drew near, he ducked into a running crouch, and one step later, launched himself at Applejack in a tackle that would have flattened a hoofball quarterback. At the last moment, though, he flared his wings alongside his head and flung them back in one clean sweep, a motion so quick Applejack barely had time to see it. It was enough, however, to give him more than a yard of altitude over Applejack.

The last time he had tried it, Applejack had barely seen what he had done. She didn’t buy his claim that he had simply managed to jump over her. That his wings had fluttered out of instinct from jumping so high, and hadn’t helped him get over her in the least, she had also taken to be a lie. And if she hadn’t been waiting for it, he would have bewildered her just like last time, landing his basket before she had time to turn and pursue.

Not this time. Even as the tips of his hooves were clearing the grass, Applejack was already flattening into her own leap. As he soared over her, no longer even looking down as he fixed his eyes on the prize of the basket, she was leaping up beneath him, body twisting as she turned herself upside down and brought her hooves up above her head. Then she lashed out with a single kick, driving her hind hoof in just below Hoops’ ribs.

That, at least, was how she had imagined it happening. As it was, the grass was still slippery from the rain, and when she leaped, her hooves slid beneath her, and she left the ground an instant later than she had intended. Thus, when she twisted around and delivered the kick, she realized with horror that it struck much lower between his legs than she had aimed for.

She heard him give a strangled screech, far higher in pitch than any sound she had ever heard him make. She lost sight of him as she fell back to the ground, the momentum from her blow slamming her back against the damp earth and knocking her own breath out with a loud “Oomph!” A second later, she heard something heavy tumble down just beyond her. The thuds of rolling, limp limbs sounded several times, and then there was nothing to be heard but the sporadic chirping of birds in nearby trees.

“Oof…” Applejack groaned. She hadn’t expected to be thrown back down quite so hard. “Hoops? You okay?”

“Oooooohhhhhhhhhh…” Hoops’ voice sounded more like the lamentations of the dead than a single, healthy pony. Applejack rolled to her side and raised her head. She saw him curled up on the grass a yard or two away, wings splayed and limbs tucked up beneath him. The ball had bounced away and come to a stop a few yards from the basket, completely forgotten.

“Hoops?” Applejack asked again, struggling to her hooves. Aw hay. Don’t tell me I actually hurt him…

“I call foul,” Hoops croaked in a small voice.

Applejack couldn’t help but crack a small grin. “You do see the irony of that, don’t you, you cheating bird?”

“Puns,” came the next wheeze. “I lie broken on the field, and all my fillyfriend has to offer is puns. This is what I get for dating an Earth Pony.”

“Heh,” Applejack chuckled. “Sorry, Sugarcube. I didn’t mean to hit you, er, below the girth, so to speak. You need me to get some ice or anything?”

“I think I’m good,” Hoops hiccuped in response. “But I might throw in the towel a little early today.”

“Yeah, I suppose that’s fair,” Applejack said, giving another chuckle as he started to stagger upright. “Though, you know that means I win.”

“Not a chance!” Hoops cried. “You incapacitated my team’s best player!”

“Wouldn’t have happened if your team didn’t cheat. But fine, you get a penalty goal. I’m still ahead by one.”

“Cripes, AJ, can’t we just call it a draw?”

“Nope,” she said airily, turning away and trotting to pick up the ball. “Rules are rules.”

“Sweet Cirrus,” Hoops grumbled, hobbling towards one of the benches at the side of the field. “You Earth Pony mares are merciless.”

“I did warn you I played rough.”

“Rough, yes,” Hoops said, sprawling onto the bench with a pained grimace. “Nopony said anything about getting gelded going up against you.”

Applejack couldn’t help but laugh again, earning a dark glare from beneath Hoops’ bangs. “Seriously, Sugarcube, you okay? I only meant to poke you out of the air.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, shifting his legs and wincing again. “Wasn’t a direct hit, thank Celestia. Not the first time I’ve been hit like that in a game, though normally we’re wearing a little more protection.”

“Occupational hazard, I suppose,” Applejack said, sitting down on the ground beside the bench. “How’d the last few matches go, by the way?”

“Eh.” Hoops gave a long shrug, his shoulders scraping the weathered wood of the bench. “Monday was good. We won by three points. They thrashed us Wednesday though, and Friday’s game…” Applejack could hear him grind his teeth, then give a long sigh. “We should’ve had it. We were up two points from the first quarter, and they came back in the last thirty seconds with a pair of cheap one-pointers. Score was right on the guy for the second shot too, had a perfect setup to steal from him and just… bungled it. They managed to score the winning point in overtime.”

“Shoot,” Applejack said. “I’m sure sorry, Sugarcube.”

“ ‘S’okay. It’s how the game goes. I don’t think many scouts are paying much attention anymore. We’re basically locked out of the playoffs at this point, so it’s just playing the games until the season’s over.”

Applejack didn’t need to know Hoops well to know he was playing the stoic. She could practically feel the frustration radiating from him. It was a feeling she herself was all too familiar with, especially after a bad rodeo season. In hindsight, maybe shouldn’t have pushed so hard today… Might be he could’ve used a win to pick up his mood.

The idea made her bite her lip in distaste, however. Throwing a game just to boost anyone’s ego never sat well with her, and she knew how she would feel if Hoops or anyone did that out of pity for her. That wasn’t why they met to play a few one-on-one matches every week. If anything, Applejack appreciated that Hoops gave her an honest, hard game every time.

Well, mostly honest, she thought with a wry smile. But she knew he had only been fooling around by breaking the rules. As much as he despised losing, he had never once stormed off the field or been a sore loser on any count. Whatever coaches he had learned to play with over the years had apparently drilled that behavior out of him. The little bit of flying he had done was just to tease her, and maybe show off a little. That, Applejack had noted, was something he never missed an opportunity to do.

“Still, I’m sorry the season didn’t quite pan out like you wanted. I know you were pretty gung-ho about some the scouts that were hanging around this year.”

“They’ll be back next year,” Hoops said with a dismissive wave of his hoof. “If I even… I don’t know.”

“Something bothering you, sugarcube?”

Hoops shifted, scooting a little closer to Applejack. She could see his wings twitching, though whether out of restlessness or irritation, she couldn’t tell. “AJ… do you think I should even bother signing on next season?”

“Now where the hay did that come from?” Applejack asked. She turned sideways to face him and raised a questioning eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t you?”

“You don’t think I’m wasting my time with all this, do you?” Lying on his back the way he was allowed his mane to fall away from his face, leaving his eyes clear again. Applejack still couldn’t quite figure out why he left his mane so unstyled and hid his face behind his hair so much. His eyes were a little small for his face, giving him a very earnest expression whenever his mane didn’t get in the way. Now, he was staring listlessly up into the clouds, the edges of his brows turned down in a worried frown that almost looked sad. “Maybe I shouldn’t be spending as much time on the field as I do, instead of just keeping my head down and working at the factory.”

“ ‘Course I don’t think that. Why would I?”

Hoops shrugged again. “I don’t know. I guess it’s just that most colts who make it into the pro leagues have already been drafted by my age. I’m starting to feel like if I was going to get picked, they would’ve done it years ago.”

“That’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself. You’ve only been out of school a year or so, Hoops.”

“That’s my point, though! Most colts get drafted while they’re still playing for their school teams.”

“But you did get drafted!”

“By a journeycolt league,” Hoops grumbled. “Not even the minor league. And I should have moved up by now, but I just feel… stuck. A lot of the players around me have moved up.”

“Score hasn’t,” Applejack offered, but Hoops only snorted derisively.

“Score barely puts in any effort for the team. He shows up, that’s about it. I’ve been working outside of official practice five times as much as him. Not that it’s done any good.” He sighed. “I don’t know. I’m asking what you think. Do you think I should just stick with the amateur leagues for fun and start full time at the factory?”

“I think it’s a little early to call it quits,” Applejack answered slowly. “I know you wanted to play in the big leagues since before you could walk.”

Hoops snorted. “Doesn’t mean it’ll happen though, right?”

“It still could. Besides, it’s your special talent, ain’t it?”

Hoops tilted his head back, looking at her upside down, and gave her a sour grin. “AJ. There’s less than five hundred ponies in the EBA. There are probably more ponies with a talent for sports in one city than get to play in the top leagues, I promise you that. Talent doesn’t really have anything to do with it at that level.”

“Well, still. I think you’ve got just as good a shot as anypony else. So it’s been a few years longer than you thought. Until you’re the oldest journeycolt-league player left, I don’t see how that needs to mean much. Rainbow sure didn’t have the shortest path into the Wonderbolts, but she made it there in the end.”

“Ha, you mean Rainbow Crash?” Hoops snickered. His voice instantly took on a slightly whinier tone, and he brushed up a bang to lay across his face. “Is it true they actually started calling her that on her first day? That’s a cheap move, if you ask me. I ought to get credit for coming up with the name.”

Applejack turned away and scowled. She should’ve known better than to bring up Rainbow. He was going to be insufferable for hours if she didn’t somehow distract him again. “Was just an example, Hoops. What brought all this up, anyway?”

Thankfully, the return to the topic at hoof seemed to sober him again. “I don’t know. Just thinking about the future and stuff, I guess.” He tilted his head back again to look at her. “Not going to lie, you’ve been making me feel kind of lazy. I still don’t put in half the hours at the factory that you do on that farm. Making me look bad!”

“I think hours spent practicing count towards that,” Applejack said, blushing a little. “You work plenty hard, Hoops.”

“More so now than before. I think that’s why Score’s been bugging me so much lately. I didn’t even realize how much time we just spent lying around until I started putting in the extra hours at the field and the factory. Makes me wonder if I didn’t sabotage myself these past few years, not working hard enough.”

“You do what you can now,” Applejack said. “That’s all you can do.”

They fell into a companionable silence for a few minutes. Applejack didn’t know how long Hoops might need to recover, but the chill from the rain was almost gone, and the sun was just reaching the perfect level of pleasant winter warmth. A few foals were playing a game of kickball in the distance.

“So,” Applejack said, breaking the silence. “What else have you been thinking about the future?”

“Hmm? Not much, I guess. I don’t know what I’d think about, outside of the team and the factory.”

“You ever think about where we’re headed? The two of us, I mean.”

Applejack could feel him stiffen a little on the bench as she leaned against it. For a moment, he seemed to forget to breathe. “Uh…”

“I’m not testing you or nothing, sugarcube,” she said with a laugh. “I’m just wondering. I don’t have any grand plans, if that’s what you’re worried about. Far as I’m concerned, I’m just content to enjoy the days and call them good. You just said the future had you worried, so I thought I’d ask.”

“Heh, I guess I hadn’t really thought ahead that much. Like you said, just enjoy the present and all.”

Applejack let the silence hang for another minute or two. Then she felt a devious grin creep over her face. “You ever think about having a family one day?”

That did the trick. He went so rigid, Applejack thought his heart might have actually skipped a beat. Then he shot her an exaggerated glare. “Well, I’m pretty sure my odds of that went down a little bit today, if you know what I mean.”

Applejack burst out laughing. “Oh, you’ll be fine!”

“I’m serious!” he said, faking a long, pained frown. “I may never have foals now! All the hopes of my family line, crushed over a bent rule!”

“Well, the game is called buckball,” Applejack retorted.

“That doesn’t mean you have to take it literally!” Hoops cried, breaking down into a fit of laughter. “Tartarus, you’re horrible, AJ.”

“You’ve put up with me so far.”

“Oh! Speaking of foals, that reminds me,” Hoops said, sitting up and digging into his saddlebags. “I forgot to show you this last time I flew down.” He pulled out a sheet of crumpled stationery and gave it to Applejack. “Get a load of this. Score wrote it up to try to scare me the other day. Could the guy get any more lame?”

Applejack smoothed the paper and ran her eyes over it, holding an amused smile as she waited to understand what kind of prank Score had tried to play. As she read, however, every ounce of mirth drained out of her, replaced by a new block of ice dropping into her stomach with every paragraph.

“Like I’d fall for something like that,” Hoops chuckled. He glanced at Applejack, and his smile grew fixed as he saw the color draining from her face. “Uh… AJ?” He gave a nervous chuckle. “Applejack. I swear, it’s fake. Score made it up. I don’t even know where he got the name, but that’s why it’s so stupid. If he wanted to scare me, he should’ve used your name or something.” The wavering grin finally fell from his face as Applejack continued to stare, frozen, at the letter. “AJ? You okay? Geez, say something, you look like somepony died.”

Applejack felt a panicked lump as large and dry as a red delicious form in her throat. She swallowed painfully, trying to clear her voice. “Uh… Hoops…”

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever been to Las Pegasus?”

Chapter 8 - The Breaking Point

Carrot had a spring in his step that he hadn’t felt since before the fire. It was small, but it was there, and even Cupcake’s strange behavior over the past few days couldn’t entirely dampen it. Twilight’s castle looked a little brighter, and the sky framing it just a few shades bluer. The gift the Apple family was making to the rebuilding of Sugarcube Corner was above and beyond anything he would have dared to ask for. True, it still wasn’t enough. Just resetting the foundations and raising the frames would take several months, and they would have to tighten their saddle girths in the meantime. It would be hard, especially on the twins.

By the time that first round of work was done, though, Carrot felt sure he could find a way to bring in more money, whether from support from families, additional charitable help, or whatever work he could find in the interim. Even if they still had a long way to go before they were out of the woods, to be able to move forward again at all was more than Carrot had allowed himself to hope for in weeks.

Which was why, when he had gone into their rooms a few days ago and excitedly shared the news about the Apples’ latest gift with Cupcake, he had known something was wrong.

Her mood had been the lowest he had seen it since the night of the fire. That was understandable. They had both been running with scraps and rags every minute since then, and each had succumbed to exhaustion or despair once or twice in the following weeks. When that happened, each of them had been there to pull the other up again. In some sense, it wasn’t that different from how they tag-teamed taking care of the twins.

It didn’t take long for Carrot to realize something was different this time, though. When he had come in, she almost seemed to be hiding from him. She was pale and her skin felt cold, and when he had told her the good news, she hadn’t risen out of it like he had been sure she would. She had smiled and agreed that it was the best news they’d had. But it had been an anemic smile, as starved for life as her face seemed to be.

Then, instead of finding more energy, she had withdrawn into herself again. It was like the Cupcake he knew had curled up and buried herself somewhere inside, leaving her body behind to sicken. Worse still, she seemed to be actively avoiding his company. If he came in to check on the twins, she would go out and pretend to work in the suite’s kitchenette, and if he followed her out, she would go back to check on the twins. She seemed like a trapped animal, crawling from corner to corner.

After a few attempts at conversation, he decided to let her be, though he kept a worried eye on her when she happened to pass nearby. As the hours stretched into days, however, Cupcake couldn’t seem to rouse herself, and his fears deepened. Even when the fire had claimed everything, she had still reached out to him, and he to her, for support. This total shutdown and withdrawal felt like something else.

He had seen such strange moods settle over her once or twice in the past. He couldn’t exactly recall when, but he knew it had happened at least once after they had learned she was pregnant with the twins. Back then, he had attributed it to mood swings from the pregnancy. It hadn’t brought him much comfort to feel so powerless, but at least it had passed. Now, however, he was reluctant to let it run its course. Everything was already in such a fragile state. He needed to find a way to bring her mood up, at least just a little. Neither of them needed more weighing them down than they could help.

She was sitting in the parlor, fiddling with a toy of Pound’s he had broken. Carrot walked up softly beside her and sat down. “Honeybun,” he greeted, wrapping a foreleg gently around her shoulders. He felt a stab of dismay as she flinched. Had he startled her so easily? “Is everything alright, sweetheart?”

“What kind of question is that?” she asked, and he couldn’t help but recoil a little at the bitterness in her voice. “We’re homeless, we’re stuck in these ridiculous rooms, the twins are getting more irritable every day… no, I’m not alright. Is that so surprising?”

“I just thought…” he tried, watching her with a scared frown. “With what the Apples are giving us, it’s almost like the end is in sight. We’ll get our home back, sweetie. Maybe even sooner than we hoped.” She had flinched again when he had mentioned the Apples, but he couldn’t imagine why for the life of him. Something deeper had to be bothering her.

“I need to go for a walk,” she said. She stood so suddenly that she jerked his foreleg as she pulled away. She turned back, saw him rubbing his shoulder, and looked at him with an expression that made his heart go cold. She looked terrified, of all things. “I’m just… I’ve been cooped up in here for days, dear. And I’m so stressed from everything. Watch the twins while I get some air?”

He could only hope it would do her at least a little good. But whatever she felt she needed to do to get through another day, he would help her do. “Sure thing, honey. Here.” He fished inside the ragged, stained apron he wore, and dug out a few bits. “Get yourself one of those lattes you like from Grinder’s stall. We’ve got a little to spare now with the framing taken care of, if you can believe it.”

Luckily, she did seem to believe it. It was a lie, and he barely had any energy to put into it. But she took the bits with the sickliest shadow of a smile he had ever seen and hurried out. He watched her go, feeling the weight of helplessness settle over him again. Then he took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. If her mood hadn’t brightened when she returned, he would find something else to try. At least making sure she could take it easy for one evening might keep her from getting any worse.

* * *

Cupcake wandered aimlessly through the opulent halls of the palace. She still felt like she was one bad shock away from a heart attack. At least she could calm herself down away from their rooms, their belongings, and the sounds of Carrot and the twins so close by. Every scrap of their lives piled into that small space was like a series of anvils around her neck. Every step Carrot took closer to her, she found it harder to breathe. It was like she could feel a physical pressure radiating from him, crushing the very lungs in her chest. She could feel his eyes constantly on her, prying out inconsistencies in her behavior, and every move she made only broke the pattern and drew his attention more. She wasn’t sure if she would explode or shatter, but one thing was for sure—if she stayed there, something would break. Badly.

It’s okay… it’ll be okay, she told herself. You’ve been through this before. You managed to pull it together then. You can do it now. Everything will go back to normal. It will. You just have to endure.

She didn’t know if she could this time, though. She had so little left to give to the act. In the comfortable, day-to-day routine of their old lives, she had been able to pull through when the dam threatened to burst. She had been able to take enough time to think, to plan for contingencies, excuses, and barriers. She had been able to hide in her own disguise, pretending that she was still the Cupcake everyone had learned to know—the Cupcake who had never strayed beyond the boundaries of their cozy little bakery in their cozy little town. The Cupcake who didn’t carry the foals of two other stallions because of one stupid mistake. She was loved by her entire family, and Cupcake could put everything into being her.

But now that cozy bakery was gone. She couldn’t keep her thoughts and stories straight like she could back then. The frame around her perfect family portrait had already broken enough to show the secret beneath to Applejack. How many more breaks were appearing that she hadn’t spotted yet? How could she soothe Carrot’s suspicions and fears without fomenting more?

She stopped in the hall and slumped against one of the freezing walls. Her legs felt nearly ready to let her collapse then and there. How can I keep this up?

“…shouldn’t stay any longer. I don’t want to risk any more trouble.”

“I understand. But I’m glad you decided to stay. It was nice to finally see you just for a few days, even if the circumstances are less than ideal.”

Cupcake froze. She knew those voices. She turned hard, walking as fast as she could back down the hall without making a racket. Shoot. How did I let myself wander to this part of the castle?

It was no good, though. The door beside her opened, and she nearly screamed as her hooves scuffed the floor, scrambling to push herself away from it. She hadn’t expected to run into anypony, and she couldn’t stand trying to keep up appearances for anyone else. Let alone around him.

“And really, thanks for listening. I can’t tell you how much it— Oh, horseapp—”

“Cupcake?”

She froze, then turned, trying to calm herself as she saw Sunburst and Starlight standing together in the entrance to Starlight’s rooms.

“Oh, hello dearies,” she said, hoisting a panicked grin into place. She could feel her jaw shaking, and she could hear the tremble in every word she spoke. Calm down, calm down! You can’t let Starlight think anything is…

…what is Sunburst doing here with her?

Time slowed to a crawl as they stared at each other. Sunburst was looking at her with an expression of abject terror. Starlight, meanwhile, looked merely nervous.

Why is she looking at me like that? Starlight was glancing between Sunburst and Cupcake like she was waiting for one of them to attack the other.

Sunburst thanked her for listening… to what?

The pieces fell into place in Cupcake’s head, and it felt like all the other pieces of herself tumbled apart and scattered over the floor.

“…You know.” It was all she had the strength to say.

“Uh…” Starlight took a step back, and Cupcake turned a horrified look to Sunburst.

“You told her?”

At this, Starlight’s apprehension seemed to vanish, and her face settled in a cool wave of indignation. She squared up her shoulders and took two steps forward, just barely imposing herself between them. “You hit him.”

That made Cupcake flinch. Her anger was stunted, and she turned away. “That… I shouldn’t have done that. I lost my temper.”

“It’s fine,” Sunburst said, touching his jaw and wincing. “I had it coming. I lost my temper too. And…” he turned and looked uneasily at Starlight. “I shouldn’t have told her, but—”

“No? You don’t think so?” Cupcake whispered. Starlight took another step in front of Sunburst, her brow darkening, but Cupcake barely noticed. Once again, every fear, every caustic emotion that had been eating her alive for days had found a target, and they flocked to it like a flood to a spigot. “This is what your promises look like, your honorable word? What kind of Tartarian monster are you? You barge into my life, you harass me for years—just what more do you want from me?!”

She grit her teeth so hard, she thought a few of them might crack from the strain. She could feel the pressure of her mindless rage running through her jaw to the base of her skull. The very veins in her eyes felt like they were alive with fire as she glared at Sunburst, who was now all but cowering behind Starlight.

“Cupcake,” Starlight tried, “I know you’re upset, but you need to calm down. We can work this out.”

Cupcake didn’t even hear her. What she did hear, however, were hooves galloping up the stairs at the end of the hall. Somewhere, deep beneath the agony and the fury, there was one tiny speck of fear left within herself that registered the sound with a flurry of panic. With all the composure of a lunatic trying to gather up a load of screaming mice, Cupcake pulled her anger back inside and tried to rebuild a normal expression. Whatever she had to do to deal with Sunburst, she couldn’t risk even one more pony noticing anything was wrong. She had to keep the frame together.

As such, Applejack was one the ponies she absolutely would not have chosen to see at that moment. Yet there she was, coat glistening with sweat and brown hat askew as she barreled down the hall. Her eyes widened as she locked her gaze on Cupcake, and her metal shoes screamed against the polished floor as she braced all four legs into a sliding, catawampus halt.

“Cupcake!” she panted, gathering her limbs back into order in a scramble. “Thank Celestia! We got a prob—” Applejack’s lips shut with an audible plip as she noticed Starlight, and her eyes widened even more as they darted between Sunburst, Cupcake, and back to Starlight. For several seconds, the entire miserable gathering stared at each other, most of them not daring to breathe. “Uh,” Applejack finally said, her chest still rolling with exertion. “I need to… to talk to Cupcake about… about something. Important.”

Cupcake felt that if she didn’t say something, she would just start crying from the sheer stress of it all. To Tartarus with it. “Please just tell me it’s not about the twins or this pestilential letch,” she said, waving at Sunburst.

“Hey!” Sunburst snapped.

“Shut it,” Cupcake snarled.

“Wait, Applejack knows?” Starlight asked.

“Maybe everyone knows!” Cupcake yelled. Only belatedly did she cringe at how her voice carried down the hall. “It might as well be, just… what, Applejack?”

“Uh… actually, about that,” Applejack said.

Cupcake slowly raised her head. She could see actual blackness closing in around her vision, leaving Applejack at the end of a long, dark tunnel. Every breath she took drove a sharp spike of adrenaline-drained pain through her chest.

“…Applejack…” she shook her head, and she could feel tears running uncontrolled down her face. “No.”

It couldn’t be. Of all ponies, Applejack couldn’t have let her down. Not her. Not on top of everything else. It just couldn’t be. Applejack’s next words, however, killed any speck of light still sputtering within her.

“Sugarcube, it ain’t like that, but—”

“ ‘But’? ” Cupcake hiccuped. “ ‘But’? How could there be a ‘but’, Applejack? You promised me…” she choked and drew in a long, ragged breath. When she could speak again, her voice rose into a hysterical pitch. “You gave me your word, Applejack. I trusted you!”

“It weren’t even me!” Applejack protested. She swung her head at Sunburst. “Technically, he’s the one who went off telling ponies about foals.”

“Me?” Sunburst sputtered, his mouth dropping open. “Now hold on just one second! I haven’t talked to anypony other than Starlight.”

“Talked, maybe,” Applejack said. “But you’ve been writing letters, haven’t you?”

“Letters? I don’t… wait… how do you know…?”

“Because you wrote to the father of the other twin. You wrote to him and laid out the whole thing. How you found him, what happened to Sugarcube Corner, and how you thought he could help.”

Now that Applejack said it, Cupcake remembered. It was partly why she had knocked out some of Sunburst’s teeth in the first place. In all the chaos and panic that had followed with Applejack finding the first letter, she had completely forgotten the mention of the second. She had forgotten there might be somepony else out there who knew.

Now she did collapse. Before anyone could even think to catch her, she fell heavily onto her side, barely troubling to keep her head from cracking against the floor. Instead, she held it just barely aloft as Applejack rushed over to her. “Who? Who did you write to?”

“Sunburst, why?” Starlight asked. “Why would you do that?”

“I thought he could help!” Sunburst protested. “I can’t do anything without Cadence finding out, but the other father’s an independent pony! If he knew he had a foal, I don’t doubt for a minute that he’d try to do the right thing. And if nothing else,” he continued, setting his mouth in an indignant frown, “I thought he deserved to know.”

“Sunburst!” Starlight gasped.

“I know! It wasn’t just my secret to share. But I couldn’t think of anything else to do!”

“You could have done nothing,” Cupcake said weakly. “Horseapples, I should have done nothing. I should have just kept quiet about this whole mess and never tried to involve you.”

“I wanted to be involved!” Sunburst pleaded. “I’ve always tried to make you see that. I want to do the right thing, but you… well, you had your own ideas about how to run this. I thought when you wrote… I thought maybe you would finally give me the chance to do this right.”

“Hang on,” Starlight interrupted. “We can figure out this mess later. Applejack, why are you here? Why do you know about the other letter?”

“Because he sent it to my coltfriend,” Applejack said. “Hoops.”

Once again, everyone simply stared at each other with open mouths. But at long last, Cupcake couldn’t take it anymore. With a quick snort and a final, feeble effort to suppress it, she burst out in a broken, hysterical laugh.

* * *

“Feeling better?” Starlight asked.

Cupcake nodded. It still hurt to breathe, but at least she was back to slow, even breaths again. Following that short bout of hysterical laughter, she had partially fainted, and it had taken Applejack and Starlight the better part of fifteen minutes to bring her into Starlight’s room and calm her down. “I’m so sorry, dearies…” Her voice was hoarse, and it hurt even more to speak than it did to breathe. “I think I’ve just… been pushed a little bit past my limit.”

“I think that’s understandable,” Starlight said gently, giving Sunburst an uneasy glance. “I think everypony needs to calm down some. I still think this can all be worked out.”

“There’s nothing to work out,” Sunburst said. He looked up at Cupcake, and there was a resigned earnestness in the tight set of his jaw. “I’ll go back to the Crystal Empire, and if I can figure out a way to help, I’ll find a way to ask you about it. In the meantime, Carrot doesn’t have to hear about any of this.”

“You just want things to go back to the way they were?” Starlight asked. Now she was looking back at Cupcake, and by the dark tilt of her brow, Cupcake knew she wasn’t happy with how Sunburst had been kept out of their lives.

“That’s not what we need to focus on right now,” Sunburst said. “I should have thought about that before I put my nose into all this. I shouldn’t have come down here in the first place, or tried to interfere like I did when Sugarcube Corner is gone and everything is in such a fragile state. It’s not the right time. Maybe I do want things to change, but not at this cost. I’m not going to send Cupcake or Carrot into a total breakdown. If we’re going to make things better between all of us, it needs to happen when they’ve healed from this trauma first. So, for now, yes, I’ll help get things back to the way things were. I’ll be out of Equestria, and everything will go back to normal.”

Normal… Cupcake felt her heart clench in a strange wave of panic. What was normal? She and Carrot would find a way to rebuild the Sugarcube Corner, that was true. But what did she have to look forward to? More days haunted by the specter of what would happen if Carrot somehow realized the truth? Feeling that agonizing stab of guilt every time she made one of her little foals smile and laugh, knowing that laugh was not Carrot’s?

And now, she would have to meet not only Applejack’s but Starlight’s eyes every time they happened to meet in town, knowing that they knew the truth about what she was—what she had done.

Even if she managed to hold the crumbled wall together for years like she had planned, it wouldn’t let her live in peace again. How many nights was she going to lie awake, planning out what to say to the twins when they were old enough to understand? How many times would she rehearse her confession to Carrot? How many times would she almost speak up, almost tell the truth, then shrink back in the same familiar terror and decide never to speak at all?

It was enough to break her there and then. And that was when Applejack cleared her throat.

“Uh… I’m not sure we’ve got it that good anymore,” she said.

“Right,” Sunburst groaned, rubbing his forehead and almost knocking his glasses askew. “Hoops. What exactly are his plans, Applejack?”

“That’s why I came here in such a rush,” she said. “I don’t have a clue. He thought the letter was a prank his roommates tried to pull on him. I had no idea he was involved in any of this, but when he showed me the letter… well, I don’t think I need to explain I was floored. I didn’t have time to think about anything. But he knew right away something was dead wrong. Before I could think of what else to do, he got enough out of me to realize Cupcake was real and here in Ponyville. And then he was just gone.”

“Gone?” Sunburst asked. “What do you mean gone?”

“He ran. Flew off faster than I would’ve thought possible, considering I’d just… anyway, my guess is he panicked. Not sure I blame him. I about had a heart attack myself when I saw Sunburst had written to him about all this. But that’s exactly our problem now.” Applejack shook her head, avoiding Cupcake’s eyes. “I have no clue what he’ll do next. I can’t imagine why he’d go looking for either you or Carrot, but if he decided to…”

“Still… we should be able to contain this,” Sunburst mused. “Starlight can keep an eye on the castle itself. And Cupcake, if you go back to Carrot, you’ll know if Hoops decides to show up. In the meantime, Applejack can try to find him and work something out with him.”

Plans. Contingencies. Guessing at what to do when some hint of the truth reached Carrot. And all of it so feeble. Applejack was right, she thought as she heard Sunburst, Starlight, and Applejack continuing to talk. How could she keep trying to keep up with this disintegrating tapestry? The weight of the worry had been enough to crush her when all she knew was that Sunburst was out there somewhere, a pony who knew how badly she had failed her husband that night. Now how many ponies knew? How far would it go? How far could it possibly go before something slipped to Carrot?

“No.” No more. She had found her limit. She couldn’t keep wearing the breaking mask. Even if it didn’t break now, or a month from now, she would break beneath it. She couldn’t keep playing the perfect wife anymore. She could endure a lot. But she couldn’t endure her husband and foals, the lights of her life, if they continued to be the source of her darkest fears.

“Uh… what?” Sunburst asked. His head was tilted in puzzlement, and it took Cupcake a few moments to realize she had spoken aloud. She took another breath, and found it was nowhere near enough. She took a second. It would have to do.

“No,” she repeated, shaking her head. “I can’t… I can’t do this anymore.” She looked up at Sunburst. She could feel the tears spilling over, but she blinked them away and hardened her face into a determined glare. There. I said it. Now I have to do it. “We’re going to talk to Carrot.”

Sunburst’s face blanched. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to turn tail and start running. “You… what? Cupcake, you’re not thinking clearly. You can’t tell Carrot. That’s what this whole mess has been about all this time, right? We don’t know how he’ll take it!”

“No. But I can’t live with this hanging over me,” she said. She turned to Starlight. “And you’ll forgive me, dearie, but I barely know you. I might be able to make myself trust Applejack, but I can’t go on wondering if you’ll be able to protect me.” She turned back to Sunburst, and her glare returned. “After all, he wasn’t able to. And… If I’m honest, I don’t think I can trust myself to protect all this. Not for much longer. And now there’s this… other pony,” she said, casting a sad look at Applejack. “It’s over. Even if none of you breathes a word, this can’t last. So… I’m taking control. I’m going to try to fix this, and I’m going to let Carrot make up his mind for himself.”

She turned away and started walking down the hall. “He… he deserves that. He never deserved to have this fake house of cards built for him. He deserves to know the truth and make whatever decision he needs to about it. Just like any of us.”

In that moment, Cupcake didn’t believe it would change anything. She was bracing herself for pain, for humiliation. But she believed that, in the end, he would stay by her side. They would heal. They would get past it, and she would never make such a mistake again. It was only in believing it that she could force herself to say the words, to take the first steps back to their broken home. She couldn’t let herself think about the possibility that his decision going forward might remove her from the picture. He had to forgive her. He had to. It was the only outcome that would allow her to even risk anything else.

She paused and turned when she didn’t hear anyone following her. “You’re coming with me, Sunburst,”

He was trembling. She supposed she couldn’t blame him. How her knees weren’t knocking together, she couldn’t imagine. Perhaps she just didn’t have the emotional reserves left to be that terrified. “Cupcake… are you sure?”

The words reminded her of something. She wasn’t sure of exactly what. Only that they stirred in her a deep rage. She scowled back at him. “You’re part of this mess. You’re going to come help me fix it.”

“Maybe we should think about this,” Sunburst protested. Cupcake was about to shout him down, but then Starlight put a gentle hoof on his shoulder and shook her head.

“Go with her, Sunburst,” she said softly.

“But…”

“This is already tearing everyone apart,” Starlight said. “And it’s her decision, whether you go with her or not. And I think she’s right. Maybe it’s a good idea to do something about this before it gets any more out of control.”

Sunburst looked helplessly between the two of them. He seemed to grow smaller by the second. Then he swallowed and gave a single spasm of a nod. “…okay.”

Starlight gave him a short hug. “You know where to find me if you need to me.” Sunburst could only nod in answer. He looked like he didn’t trust himself to open his mouth again.

Applejack stood slowly as well. “Do you… would you like me to come with you too, sugarcube? I don’t like the idea of letting you take this on alone, especially considering…”

Cupcake almost told her no. Then she glanced again at Sunburst. I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t bolt at the door, she realized. And Applejack had been the one to warn her that she might need to take control. She had cared enough to come to her for her side of the story before doing anything else. In fact, she’s the only one who ever asked to hear my side of it. The only one who believed everything I said.

Cupcake nodded. “It… it might be a good idea to have someone with us to keep a level head. Thank you, Applejack.”

Then Cupcake turned and left, Sunburst and Applejack following several steps behind.

They didn’t speak at all as Cupcake led them through the upper levels of the castle and back to the guest suite she shared with Carrot. She didn’t know what they might even talk about. Would there even be any good in planning out what to say? Cupcake doubted it. She already had several half-formed, vague ideas of how the discussion would go. They were the products of her most sleepless nights following the incident itself, the discovery of her pregnancy, and the reappearance of Sunburst. If she tried to plan it out any more now, she might freeze up and kick Sunburst out of Ponyville again. There was only one way to do it.

Don’t think, just do. Dive in and don’t look back.

And… she amended, glancing back at Applejack, Be honest. About everything. That would be the hardest part. Even after getting through the worst of the truth, she knew she would feel an immense compulsion to do some damage control. She would want to mitigate the hurt, soften out as many unessential truths as possible. But I can’t. I need this to be over. Everything Carrot wants to know, I’ll tell him. I can do that. I can. I can… we can do this.

She wasn’t thinking of Sunburst or Applejack when she thought this last bit of assurance. By the time she pushed open the door to their suite, she had almost forgotten they were still following her.

“Oh, hey there Honeybun,” Carrot said, looking up from his seat in the parlor. Cupcake felt her breath hitch a little as she saw him. He was smiling at her. He looked a little tired, but otherwise like he was still moving through the daily routine. Another stone dropped in her stomach when she realized he was holding Pumpkin, and she couldn’t help but glance uneasily at Sunburst. “Back already? Oh, and Applejack. And… Who’s this?”

If I die of a heart attack now, I won’t have to go through with it, she thought. Then she heard Sunburst’s breathing hitch behind her. He had seen Pumpkin, and Carrot had seen Sunburst. She could still explain it all away. She could introduce Sunburst as a friend of Twilight, and—

No. As if Sunburst would go along with that at this point, she thought, scowling at herself. She took one last, shaky breath. Too late now. Just… get it… over with…

“Sweetiepie,” Cupcake said, forcing a corpse of a smile onto her face. “I have… we have…”

“Mr. Cake,” Sunburst said, stepping up beside her. “My name is Sunburst, and… I wish we could meet under better circumstances. But Cupcake and I… there’s something we need to talk about with you.”

Carrot’s face fell. He was already putting up a wall to ward of the worst of whatever bad news he thought they might be bringing. “Oh dear… what is it? Maybe you should sit down. Sunburst, was it? I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve even seen you around Ponyville before. What exactly brings you here?”

* * *

“You’re…” Carrot didn’t seem to have any idea how to respond. Pumpkin was back with Pound in their room. Cupcake had condensed the story down to as simple and, in Sunburst’s cringing view, blunt an account as possible. Sunburst had only been able to watch as Carrot’s face had gone from worried to mortified to utterly heartbroken in the space of only a few sentences. At some point, he seemed to shut down and just let Cupcake talk uninterrupted, watching with his mouth slightly open and his eyes unfocused.

The whole time, Applejack simply sat next to Cupcake, her face heavy with sympathetic grief. After Cupcake had finished, she forced Sunburst to give an even shorter version of his side of things. He tried to avoid sounding like he was making excuses as much as he could. He explained how fast everything had happened; how he hadn’t even thought to wonder if Cupcake might have been married or not; how he had tried to make things right afterwards, and what Cupcake had told him to do. He could see Cupcake cringing as if the words had been physical blows. Even so, she hadn’t interrupted. Not once. She looked like somepony with nothing left to do but await a death sentence.

“You’re…” Carrot tried again. Sunburst could see the apple of his throat working furiously as he tried to put something together. “You’re not joking. But am I supposed to… what am…” he turned to her, desperation shining in his eyes. “Cup. This isn’t true. You’re not…” But his words failed when she couldn’t look him in the eyes. Instead, she turned away, shoulders shaking. He blinked and returned his dead stare to the floor in front of him. “You… you cheated on me?”

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean to,” Cupcake said. “I just… I was so broken down by what the doctors told us, and being trapped in that stupid hotel…”

“Didn’t mean to?” Carrot asked incredulously. He shook his head. “This… this is what’s been going on? Why I could barely get you to speak to me after you got back? And after the twins were born—” his eyes went wide, more dots connected in his head. “…of course.”

“Carrot…”

“But… that doesn’t mean…” he waved his hoof in a few wide, angry circles at Sunburst, “Just because the doctors said I couldn’t— that I don’t have— that doesn’t mean they’re his, right?” he crossed his forelegs and glared murderously at Sunburst. “Just because you had some fling around the time we conceived the twins, it doesn’t mean he has anything to do with it, right?”

“I had them tested,” Cupcake said quietly. “Four months in.”

Carrot could only stare at her, his mouth open in shock and his eyes full of betrayed despair. “Paternity tests? Before they were even born?” He leaned back hard into his seat. His eyes went blank and lifeless. “You knew. Right from the beginning, you knew they… they weren’t mine.”

“I was afraid!” Cupcake cried. “When I realized I was carrying, I knew… I knew there was a chance. I had to know, Carrot, I had to… Every night, I went to sleep telling myself they were yours, they had to be yours! Otherwise, I didn’t know what…”

“But they weren’t,” Carrot said stiffly. “You got your answer. And I got left in the dark.”

“Carrot, I…”

“No! You... you kept this from me. For all this time.”

“I was... I was trying to protect you... to keep us all—”

“Protect me? By lying to me, by letting me raise these...” He waved a hoof, as if trying to pull the words he wanted out of the air. Then he seemed to shrink into himself again. “And I fell for it. I didn’t think twice about any of it, even when the proof was staring me right in the face. Your great aunt’s second cousin twice removed, a Pegasus… My great-great-great-great grandfather, a Unicorn… that made sense, right? Oh, so much sense!” he slammed a hoof into his forehead. “I’m such an idiot.” Carrot turned to Sunburst, and his glare would have crumbled the glaciers of the Crystal Empire. “So. You’re the father, then.”

“Not… completely,” Sunburst said reluctantly.

“And just what the hay is that supposed to mean?” Carrot growled.

Sunburst looked at Cupcake for some kind of cue. But she only stared at him with a blank mask of despair. He coughed to give himself another second to think. “Uh… that is to say… I… well, Pumpkin is… mine. But not Pound.”

“You fathered Pumpkin, but not Pound? What kind of…”

Sunburst didn’t know how many mental blows a pony could take in one day. He suspected there had to be a limit, even for the strongest. And when the pieces came together in Carrot’s mind, Sunburst thought that he had never seen a pony crumble inside so completely in his life. As if breathing was agony anymore, Carrot turned slowly back to his wife. “No…”

Cupcake choked on a sob. She lifted her forelegs as if to bury her face in them, then lowered them again with a tremendous effort. She couldn’t speak. She just gave one quick jab of a nod, as if speeding this last blow would somehow lessen the pain.

“It wasn’t just that the paternity of the twins didn’t match you,” Sunburst said quietly. “They didn’t match each other, either. They’re half-siblings.” He cleared his throat, casting around in his stricken mind for more to say. “It’s referred to as heteropaternal superfecundation. It’s… not an unheard of phenomenon among ponies, though it is very rare… very, very rare. It’s really much more common in felines especially, and… and I’m getting off topic,” he finished feebly, withering as Carrot’s glare fell on him again.

“Riveting,” Carrot spat. “Then who’s the other father of my family, who also isn’t me?”

Cupcake shook her head violently, the barrel of her chest shuddering as she fought to rein in her emotions.

“Sunburst tracked him down too,” Applejack said softly. “And… well, so far as he can tell, it’s Hoops.”

“Hoops?” Carrot asked. “…that… the pony you’ve been seeing lately?” Applejack nodded, and Carrot’s eyes narrowed to slits. “…Applejack. Did you know?”

“Not about Hoops, that’s for sure,” Applejack said, shaking her head. Still, Sunburst could tell she was scrambling for something to say. “And I haven’t had a part in any of this until this week.”

“She told me to come to you,” Cupcake said. “She told me I needed to tell you everything. And she was right.”

“So, I’ve got her to thank for the fact I know anything at all,” Carrot said. He spat out a bitter laugh. “You’re on a roll, Applejack. You’re just saving my family from one horrible tragedy after another, aren’t you?”

Applejack didn’t say anything. She only sat there, eyes downcast as she waited for anything else Carrot might try to throw at her. Sunburst could only admire her stoicism.

Carrot, getting no response, seemed to deflate. He turned back to Cupcake. “I always thought how lucky I was that we found each other. For the longest time, I couldn’t believe somepony like you would find anything attractive about me. I guess I shouldn’t have worried; turns out it’s not important at all, is it?”

“Carrot!”

“So. These two get off with a wild romp in Las Pegasus, and I spend my life and bits here in Ponyville looking after their foals,” Carrot grumbled, ignoring how his wife’s face was stricken with shock and grief. “I shouldn’t be surprised at anything at this point. Doesn’t matter. I guess I should be grateful that at least one of the ponies who helped himself to my wife is here to rescue her for me. Since I can’t even do that.”

“Carrot!” Cup repeated, harsher this time. Now, there was anger burning in her cheeks as well.

“No!” Carrot shouted, slamming a hoof on the table. The discarded toys on it rattled, and Sunburst winced with sorrow and horror as Cupcake actually shrank back. Her eyes were wide with surprise and confusion. “Just… don’t. I don’t want to hear any of it right now. It doesn’t solve anything.” Carrot ground his teeth, glaring down at the table as if he couldn’t bear to look at either of them. “Or, I guess it does, doesn’t it? You didn’t need me to work odd jobs for nine different ponies these past few weeks. You didn’t need me to beg for wood from the Apples, or bits from all the charities around town, did you? No, because you had the Grand-spitting Wizard of the Crystal Empire in bed all along!”

“Court Wizard,” Sunburst squeaked before he could stop himself.

“Whatever!” Carrot yelled. Then he slumped back again. “You could have just said I wasn’t enough for you.”

“That’s not true!” Cupcake cried.

“And you’ll tell me the truth, is that it?” Carrot growled. Sunburst’s heart broke to see the hate in his eyes as he stared at Cupcake. For her part, the double blow of that black look and his ruthless words looked to be too much. She fell silent, staring in mute shock at her husband.

“Don’t—” Sunburst stammered, then swallowed his reluctance. “You shouldn’t talk to her like that. She doesn’t deserve it. The truth is exactly what she came here to tell you.”

“And you’re going to defend her now, are you?” Carrot asked. Sunburst blanched at how easily that boiling enmity swung back towards him. It was like a stream of bubbling, scalding tar Carrot could turn on anyone at any moment.

“Carrot,” Applejack tried, using the most level and reasonable voice she seemed able to manage. “I know things are bad right now, but—”

“Is that what you are?” Carrot demanded, ignoring her as continued his assault on Sunburst. “Are you her new white knight? Are you going to take her away to your crystal castle, and your bastard foals with you? Maybe I should—”

Sunburst didn’t even see Cupcake move. Suddenly, she was standing, and then she had struck Carrot in the face with a resounding smack that seemed to echo for second upon agonizing second. She didn’t punch him as she had Sunburst, he was glad to see. It was an flat-hoofed slap, but with the way she was breathing, Sunburst didn’t doubt she could have hit much harder.

“Cupcake!” Applejack cried. She had leapt up just behind her, but she had been too slow. Now, she was holding her back, but it was an empty gesture. The damage was done.

“Don’t,” Cupcake said, “ever talk about the twins like that. Ever.”

It was almost like seeing two Cupcakes standing there, one broken and shivering with sorrow, the other crimson with rage. The two emotions were so totally fractured, her body could only stand trembling while the battle twisted her face and streaked it with tears. Carrot stared at her with wide eyes. She had hit hard enough to raise a startled red mark on his cheek. Then his expression turned suddenly cold.

“And don’t say such horrible things about yourself,” Cupcake continued. “I’ve never wanted anyone but you, Carrot. I made a horrible mistake, but… what… where are you…?”

“I can’t do this,” Carrot said. His voice was hard and cold as granite, empty of any feeling, whether pain, rage, or despair. It had all gone out of him. “Just leave me alone.”

“Carrot!”

“No! Just… I can’t.”

The door slammed shut behind him. In the silence that followed, Sunburst became aware of how dry and ragged his breathing had become. Cupcake stood for several seconds, staring at the closed doors Carrot had left behind him. Then, like a ghost drifting down the Styx, she moved slowly back to the seat, sat down, and broke. Her sobs were the quiet, soft song of despair freely surrendered to. Applejack dropped down beside her and wrapped her in a grief-stricken embrace. Somehow, Sunburst suspected she knew the same thing he did. It was a token gesture. No one in Equestria could comfort her now.

That, he thought, feeling empty and thin, couldn’t have gone much worse.

Chapter 10 - To Reach Out

Cupcake crumpled a page between her hooves. She felt it tear a little as she crushed it, then she brushed it across the kitchen counter and into a trash bin. This is ridiculous. Everyone knows now, right? Ruining one more relationship shouldn’t be a hard thing to do by now. Even so, she just couldn’t seem to put what had happened into words she could bear to send to her parents. Something about writing felt nauseatingly ominous to her. After all, a letter was what had started the final breakdown of everything she had ever tried to hold together.

She could make the argument that the loss of Sugarcube Corner had really been the deciding factor. That, at least, had been an accident, and therefore she couldn’t have done anything to prevent it. In her mind, though, everything was tied to the letter. That one foolish decision, placed atop all the her other failings, was the straw that broke the pony’s back.

And just what did I think would happen? Her only consolation was that she had hardly been thinking clearly after the Corner burned down. Beneath the shortsightedness of it, though, she was beginning to realized there had been a kind of desperate trust that had compelled her to reach out to Sunburst.

In spite of herself, she had started to question if he wasn’t a more decent sort than she had given him credit for, at least in some ways. Starlight and Pinkie Pie had mentioned him several times in their stories regarding the Crystal Empire. In light of that, she had really believed he would help her—if not out of the goodness of his heart, then at least out of the abundance of wealth she had suspected his recent success had brought him. With a guilty pang, she now began to understand that she had thought she could use him to get everything back to normal, and then he would quietly and obediently disappear again.

She pushed the uncomfortable thoughts aside. Whatever ideas had led her to reach out to him, they had backfired horribly. And now, apparently, they were making it harder than it ought to have been to write to her parents, a task that was more than hard enough as it was.

It had been two days since Carrot left for Manehattan, and she had not left the suite in the entire time since. With him gone, it was up to her entirely to take care of the twins, more than a full time job in and of itself. Add to that going through the paperwork that was still being mailed to them, both about the old Sugarcube Corner and the prospects for a new one, and she didn’t have time for more than three or four hours of sleep each night. The bitter benefit was that she had no time to dwell on what might happen next. The work of the moment totally and utterly consumed her.

As much as she wanted to cling to that exhausting comfort, though, she knew she was already past her limit. She was starting to feel like she had a constant, low-grade fever. Her limbs trembled slightly whenever she stood still. A full-body ache that sapped what little strength she had left was a constant companion, and it was all she could do to change and feed the twins without lying down on the floor and succumbing to a stupor.

I can’t go on like this for long. She needed help. And now, with Carrot gone, the only ponies she could think to turn to were family. She knew her mother would be there in a heartbeat to help her take care of the foals, and her father would pitch in to keep the business side of things moving. In their letters since the accident, they had both offered several times to do exactly that. But they lived in Trottingham now, having retired there not long after her and Carrot’s wedding. At their age, just returning to Ponyville from across the Celestial Sea was an ordeal. The guilt of making them do that, coupled with the misery of knowing she would need to explain why Carrot wasn’t there anymore, was just too much for her to set the process in motion.

Tomorrow, she thought, feeling another wave of nausea at the notion. I’ll write to them tomorrow. I’ll know what to say then.

A loud knock sounded at the huge door at the end of the hall. Cupcake felt her heartbeat spike in both excitement and fear. Carrot? It seemed unlikely; it would have taken a few days just to get to Manehattan, let alone return. But maybe he didn’t go all the way. Maybe he decided what he wants to do already and turned around. There was no certainty or comfort in that, though. And a few seconds later, as she walked to the door, she realized it wasn’t Carrot regardless. Carrot wouldn’t have knocked. Would he? He had barely seemed to regard her or the twins as family when he had come home before. But there was only one way to know.

Sure enough, it wasn’t Carrot standing outside waiting for her. Instead, Applejack gave her a warm, if slightly forced, smile in greeting. Cupcake was able to muster the energy to return it, but it flickered as she saw the pony standing behind her. “Applejack. And… Starlight. What brings you here?”

“Howdy, Cupcake.”

“Hi,” Starlight said. “AJ thought we ought to check in on you, and on the twins too. We haven’t seen you since... since everything that happened.” She hesitated, as if she couldn’t quite decide what expression she wanted to wear. “Are... are you holding up okay?”

Cupcake tried to answer, but the sound that came out was something like a manic chuckle crossed with a hiccup. She grimaced and her ears fell flat.

“Land’s sake, sugarcube, you look worse than I did last apple bucking,” Applejack said, her smile turning sympathetic. “Listen, we know things are pretty down in the gutter right now. So we wanted to let you know, anything we can do to help, whether pitching in to take care of the little ones or just getting things cleaned up a little, we’re your ponies.”

“That’s… really very sweet of you, dearies,” Cupcake said, “but I don’t think it would be right of me to accept. I got myself into this mess, after all.”

“Now, don’t you give me that kind of stinkin’ thinkin’,” Applejack argued. “What’s there about any of this that says you need to shoulder it all alone?”

“Applejack… look, I know you’re trying to be nice. But there’s no need to pretend about anything.” Cupcake took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and looked Applejack in the eye. “It’s out in the open. You know the truth about me now, and soon, other ponies will too. I know how I’m going to be treated after word gets out, and… well, I made my bed. If it’s time to lie in it, so be it.”

Applejack’s frown deepened. “Now what in the hay kind of talk is that? You think we’re just going to up and toss you aside?” she took a few steps forward and put a hoof on Cupcake’s shoulder. Her eyes were stern as she held Cupcake’s gaze in her own. “Nuh-uh. Not a chance, Sugarcube. You’re my friend. I stood by you before, and I’ll do it now.”

“Applejack…” Cupcake felt her face knot up as tears sprang to her eyes. She tried to turn away as her cheeks turned hot, but Applejack gave her shoulder a firm tug, pulling her into a loose hug.

“Hey, sugarcube…” Applejack said. “It’s okay.”

“You don’t…” Cupcake’s word broke off as the tears pulled in a choked gasp. “You can’t just look past this. Not after what I’ve done.” She didn’t know why she was protesting their help and kindness, only that it felt somehow obscene to even be offered it. She had imagined a thousand different conversations that would take place once her secret got out. She knew what they would say to her, down to every single word. Each one would let her know in no uncertain terms what rules she had broken, spoken or unspoken, and just how far she had fallen in their esteem before turning away for good. Carrot had already come about as close to her worst imaginings as he could have. To have Applejack just ignore it and pretend nothing had changed almost seemed insulting.

“Land’s sakes, sugarcube. We ain’t your judges here. We know what kind of pony you are, and so do most of the ponies in town. Some of them might hold this against you out of blind judgment. But the ones who matter will know it ain’t that simple. We know you’re sincere in regretting what happened. Whatever comes of it, I think you’ve done the right thing now.”

“I only did the right thing because I couldn’t keep control,” she said bitterly, taking a step away. “You were right, Applejack. And so was Carrot. I convinced myself I was giving him the life he wanted and protecting the family, but… I was protecting myself, too. And I made him live out a lie. I was too… too weak to do the right thing.”

“You were too scared,” Applejack countered. “I could tell that as soon as you and I started talking. Deep down, I could tell you wanted to make this right. What happened sure helped push things over the edge, but if you really only cared about yourself, you’d have clung to the lies no matter how bad it got.”

“Exactly,” Starlight said, taking a step closer. “You’ve done some things you aren’t proud of. But... if you honestly want to start working to make things better now, there’s no reason for you to have to do it all alone.”

While Applejack’s words were heartfelt, there was something in Starlight’s tone that brooked no argument. It was enough to allow Cupcake to pull a bit of her composure back together.

“I don’t deserve friends like you,” she said with a shaky laugh. “Goodness, I can’t imagine what you must think of me. I keep falling to pieces.”

“Other ponies wouldn’t be able to carry on half as good as you,” Applejack replied. “Now come on. Why don’t you show us what needs doing around here?”

“I guess I could use the help,” Cupcake said. Then she turned to Starlight and shied away a little with a worried frown. “But… why are you here, Starlight? After everything involving Sunburst… I mean, I thought you’d be on his side.”

Starlight took a deep breath and looked Cupcake in the eye. Her expression was carefully neutral. “Well. I’m not going to pretend that I’m happy with some of the things I’ve heard. But he’s been honest with me about his role in all this, too. It seems like there’s blame to share. Anyway, we’re adults. Picking sides and spitting venom is something gossip-starved, pre-teen fillies do.” She shrugged. “I don’t see how trying to pile misery onto you would make anything better. I don’t... I don’t want to see anyone suffering more than they already are.” She sighed. “Let’s just get everything back from the brink of tragedy. There will be plenty of time to work out who owes apologies to who later. Sound fair?”

Starlight’s implication was unmistakable. “We’re not done,” she seemed to say. She wasn’t out for any kind of revenge, but in her eyes, Cupcake could see that there was still some kind of reckoning owed for the way Sunburst had been treated. Unlike Applejack’s unconditional kindness, it was something Cupcake could understand. She met Starlight’s eyes and nodded. “Okay.”

* * *

There was something about the freezing, almost gritty air of Manehattan that Carrot knew he would never really forget. The smoke of a thousand apartment stoves, pipes clenched in hundreds carriage-pullers’ teeth, and the coal furnaces that warmed banks, department stores, and theaters with air like dragon’s breath all permeated the air. On cold mornings like the one he arrived on, it was thick enough to leave a dark, dusty residue in Carrot’s mouth. It was something most newcomers to the enormous city found off-putting at best, revolting at worst. To Carrot, however, it was memory.

It was that larger atmosphere that, somewhere, held the smaller scent he knew most of all—a small blaze churning inside a tiny, blackened, pot-bellied stove, its smoke mixed with the acrid bite of bitter coffee boiling on top of it. But Carrot would have to wait a little longer before returning to that familiarity. From where he stood now, the earth and rock towers of Manehattan rose all around him like stony beehives, windows already ablaze with light as the evening began to darken into night. Behind him, the smooth stone columns and arches of Grand Central Station loomed over him. Its enormous golden windows were darkened by the ashy breath of the dozens of iron engines within.

Buried deeper below, the thin, wheezing exhalations of the subways added to the fumes through pipes and vents to the surface. Carrot had always imagined he could feel them rumbling past beneath the black stone roads, even through the eternal earthquake of thousands of hooves trotting past every moment. He could have ridden one of them to the harbor, but he had been sitting in trains for the past several days. He longed to stretch his legs, and he wanted to see the city again before he returned home. He thought that, perhaps, a bit of a wander through the masonwork forest of his home might bring him some small measure of comfort.

As time went on, however, he began to suspect it had been a mistake. He moved through the streets surrounded by the city throng, invisible and transient, unnoticed and unnoticeable. It was a strange power of cities like Manehattan, saturated to bursting with ponies of all sizes and colors as they were. In such places, even the staunchest personalities found themselves melting away and becoming one with something larger and unknowable. It was another quality newcomers took some time to get used to. Most ponies were able to ground themselves in family and friends, creating little islands of comprehensible smallness in the ocean of identities. Carrot, however, had made the mistake of coming here alone.

We always meant to visit here one day, he found himself thinking, a wave of melancholy rising to cover any nostalgia he might have enjoyed. Cupcake had visited Canterlot once or twice, but she had never had much opportunity or inclination to venture farther from her hometown than that. Carrot had no desire to ever return to Manehattan permanently, but he had always intended to bring her to visit with him, to share this strange part of his past as if it might help her understand him just a little bit better somehow. We probably won’t get that chance now.

Soon, he found himself heading to the harbor with a rigid gait. Every landmark he passed only seemed to worsen his mood. Did I really have that many plans for when we came here? He found himself remembering daydreams he’d had about taking photos from the top of the Celestial State Tower, riding the ferry to see the Statue of Friendship together, or even going to a show on Bridleway, if they could afford it when the time came. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he couldn’t think of a single part of the city he hadn’t thought of sharing with her. As such, her absence now hurt him almost as much as her presence had in Ponyville.

Not just her absence, he reminded himself with a bitter scowl. He had come here to try and put some distance between himself and that pain, but even that solace was thwarted. He made his way down to the harbor as quickly as he could, the city’s lifeblood of ponies flowing steadily around him, oblivious to his mounting misery.

Where the city had failed him, however, the sea finally lent some tranquility to the thoughts, memories, and broken dreams that hounded him. As Carrot turned onto a final, wide road that ran in a gentle slope beside Manehattan’s enormous river, he could see the ocean’s endless expanse open up across the far horizon before him. The black, sharp lines of masts cut apart the orange sky, and he could just make out some of the ships they belonged to resting gently in the water below. There was even the bloated, elephantine hulk of an airship drifting gently in the evening breeze high over the water.

Carrot was surprised how much the sight calmed him and finally brought him a little of the serenity he had been trying to capture for days. I guess I should have known, though. It had always been easy to get lost watching the heartbeat of the sea, even for him. The air was filled with the soft, serene sighs of the water, the gentle pulse of the waves pushing eternally against the bold city that perched on its edge. In the deepening evening, the ocean had turned almost black, its soft and velvety swells tinged almost imperceptibly with glowing, sapphire blue.

He knew he wasn’t alone in feeling its hypnotic power. For all of Manehattan’s hectic influence, there weren’t many ponies who could feel frenzied forever if they came in sight of the river or the sea. Local sailors often told stories that it was one of Princess Luna’s earliest masterpieces. They said she had set the rhythm of the sea to bewitch sailors’ hearts, encouraging explorers and entrepreneurs to set sail into the unknown. Even after a thousand years, when nearly all of Equestria had forgotten Luna and come to know only one princess, sailors still tipped a share of ale overboard every night in tribute to the ancient lady of the tides, as they knew her.

For the first time in nearly twenty years, Carrot felt at home. He felt anchored, somehow, with the city hard as bedrock behind him, and the sea as open and limitless as the sky before him. It was why his father and brothers never left, and it was one of the few things they had all seemed to understand together.

Until it wasn’t enough for me anymore.

He pushed the idea away with a firm sigh. It was bad enough that the city held no comfort for him. He wasn’t about to let his mood ruin the sea as well.

He turned and started making his way north, following the coast as the city scrolled by alongside him like a flat, empty painting. As he walked, he kept glancing south, following the boats and docks up and down the water as he searched for a familiar shape he already knew wasn’t there. If it had been there, either in its customary berth or somewhere out where the water met the sky, he would have seen it instantly. He doubted there was a pony in Manehattan who wouldn’t have recognized that ship, were it anywhere in sight. But the dark corner of the bay where it would rest was empty, and there was no sign of its dark hull on the horizon. Carrot knew then that he would have the house to himself, at least for a little while.

Just as well, he thought. I need to figure out what I’m going to… how I’m going to tell him what happened.

It was a question he hadn’t even begun to formulate an answer to, even over days of intolerably monotonous trains. How was he supposed to tell a pony like him what Cupcake had done? What he had been too naïve to suspect? But there didn’t seem to be any way around it. Carrot didn’t think he’d be able to lie and say he’d just come for a spontaneous visit, even if he wanted to try. After all, he hadn’t visited in the eight years since he had married Cupcake. How was he supposed to explain why he was breaking that trend now?

The question made him feel sick, and he shut the thoughts deep down inside again. Not today. Tomorrow. It’ll be easier to think tomorrow. He didn’t let himself remember that he been thinking that since Cupcake had told him the truth, and it had yet to become any easier. Still, the excuse let him avoid facing what he needed to do for a little longer, and that was enough.

Soon, the buildings started to shrink, the skyscrapers giving way to smaller buildings shaped like just the bricks that comprised them. As he passed one of these by, he froze as his eye was caught by a striking sign hung over one of the doors. The writing was in polished, shining gold script laid over a mottled, black backing.

Prudent Juris, Attorney at Law — Estate Management, Family Law, & Legal Counsel.

Carrot thought he could feel his heart clench as he looked at the office. The door was simple enough, painted in thick, glossy green with a gold doorknob. Carrot remembered that door. He had tried hard to forget it in the years after he and his brothers had spent several afternoons inside, waiting while their father tried to sort everything out. Once it was over, Carrot had always harbored something almost like a grudge for the office. He had even made an unconscious habit of avoiding this segment of the coastal avenue altogether, taking a longer loop into the city. That habit ought to have carried him around the office just as surely as before. But it hadn’t.

His eyes lingered on the words “Family Law” written in letters entirely too ornate and bright. He had the notion that nothing so serious should be printed in anything other than letters plain as tombstones. After that, however, he realized that the lawyer was probably the most qualified pony to understand his situation, since his family was already associated with the firm.

There was no one better qualified to sever his ties to Ponyville.

Carrot recoiled. No. That’s not an option. I’m not considering that.

…Am I?

Of course, he had already considered it. There was no way he’d been able to avoid thinking about it. It was the option that loomed over him like a thunderhead, a path that several ponies he had known personally had taken for one reason or another. Back then, it had seemed like a sad but necessary prospect, an option taken by ponies who had made mistakes or whose relationships simply hadn’t flourished the way they ought to have. He had wished all of them the best, but all the while been secretly grateful that it was something he would never think about. That was for other ponies. He would never need it.

And now, suddenly, as bewildered and directionless as if he had been blown ashore by a storm, he stood wondering if that time had now come for him.

What else do ponies do when something like this happens?

It almost seemed comforting, he realized. He knew it was what ponies did in circumstances like his. There was a plan, a process, and then a clean slate. The rigmarole was suddenly and terrifyingly attractive to him, and he found he had taken a step towards the office without even noticing. Just the promise of being able to do something definite was intoxicating.

“No,” he said. He shook his head as if coming out of a stupor. “I’m not… I’m not ready for that. I don’t want…”

But he couldn’t finish the sentence. He had no real idea of what he wanted. He only knew that he wanted to get away from this street before any ponies passing by might wonder why a grown stallion like him was crying.

* * *

Sunburst read Starlight’s letter again. He hadn’t expected to hear from her so soon after he returned to the Empire, so when he saw the envelope, he had known only incredibly good or bad news could have warranted an immediate update. He hadn’t held out much hope for good news, and he was not surprised to learn things had deteriorated even more after he left. Starlight had learned from Applejack that Carrot had left Ponyville, but he’d only given an indeterminate answer to Cupcake when she had asked if they would stay together. That wasn’t a good sign, but neither was it a realization of their worst fears. There was still hope their family could make it through, then, however slight it seemed to Sunburst.

What really brought him up short was the news about Hoops. Not only had he left Applejack in the dust after learning that Sunburst’s letter had been genuine, but he hadn’t reappeared or sent word to anyone since. From what Starlight said, Applejack knew he had not gone back to Cloudsdale, but beyond that, no one knew how to find him or what his intentions were. And worse still, as far as Starlight could tell, Applejack’s relationship with him was effectively over. She believed he had run away from the problem completely, and that he intended to hide until it was clear Cupcake wasn’t hunting him down for money or some other parental responsibility.

Sunburst dropped the letter and sat back hard against the wall behind his desk. Well done, Sunburst. You not only managed to ruin any chance of being a part of Pumpkin’s life, but you ruined two relationships instead of one. Is there some kind of personal record for screwing things up? ‘Cause you broke it. Good job.

He really couldn’t imagine things having turned out much worse. It now seemed like a minor miracle that Starlight had stayed by his side in any capacity. Nevertheless, he supposed it really did amount to an anomaly in the long string of screw-ups that was his life. Almost everything he had ever done had resulted in ruin. Even just getting his cutie mark had thrown Starlight into such a despondent loneliness that she almost obliterated Equestria’s timeline. Looking back on it, even the horrible things happening now had stemmed from that one event. It had been what led to him Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, which he had ultimately failed out of. That had led him to Las Pegasus in despair, and the rest was history.

Where will it end?

“There’s still hope,” he told himself. His voice sounded thin and desperate. “Carrot could still come back. He could forgive Cupcake. And Hoops will surely go back to Applejack. He’s probably just in shock. They can work things out just like me and Starlight did. Something will turn out okay. Something. Right?”

He hated how he couldn’t even bring himself to believe any of it. In his heart, he truly feared that Carrot wouldn’t be able to get past the magnitude of the betrayal. And from the sound of it, the disintegration of Applejack’s relationship was a foregone conclusion. Sunburst was surprised to realize how deeply it hurt him, how strongly the guilt welled up inside at the thought.

Of course, it wasn’t just another random mare who got hurt by Hoops, he thought. It had to be one of Starlight’s friends. Of all ponies to get caught up in the wreckage, it had to be one of them—the saviors of the Crystal Empire and Equestria, not once but several times over. Applejack was a personal friend of not one, but two occupants of the Four Thrones. In a way, Sunburst owed everything he now had to her, even if indirectly. If not for those ponies, Applejack by no means least among them, he would be nothing more than a reclusive scholar with hardly a bit to his name. He certainly would not be Court Wizard of the Crystal Empire.

And this is the recompense she gets?

He sighed, crossed his forelegs on his desk, and buried his head in them. Well, there’s no point in dwelling on it. It’s done, and there’s nothing more you can do. Not about Carrot, not about Hoops, not about—

Screed McCourt, 81417 East Bridlebit Way, Manehattan, New Yoke. Formerly listed residents/dependents: Hoops McCourt.

The scrap of information flitted through his mind and was nearly gone just as suddenly. Like a leaf drifting past his nose on the breeze, it startled him enough to make him twitch, sitting upright with a jolt as his morose internal debate ground to a halt. That’s right, he remembered. I went through some old addresses before I found his current one in Cloudsdale. He had nearly missed the Manehattan one due to the unfamiliar name. Before that, Hoops had been listed as living in Fillydelphia with what Sunburst had assumed were his parents. He’d never given the changes a second thought. Now, however, he once again knew where to find his accidental partner in fatherhood.

He ran his hoof over his beard a few times, lost in thought. He wasn’t sure how the knowledge did him any good. Still, there was a strange reassurance just in knowing. If he relayed the information to Applejack, she could go and find him Maybe they could straighten things out before they got any worse.

Although, he thought with a grimace, from the way Starlight described it, Applejack’s not even interested in going after him. And a confrontation like that might not go well.

He sighed and sat back again. There’s still nothing I can…

He pursed his lips as an idea came into his head. Applejack didn’t want to go after Hoops. That was understandable. Sunburst could easily tell how Hoops’ decision probably looked. Still, he also understood just how distressing it was to suddenly learn one was a father. He could easily imagine Hoops was acting foolishly out of panic. Maybe, like Carrot, he was just trying to get some distance so he could come to the right decision calmly and in his own time. True, Hoops shouldn’t have done it without at least giving Applejack some idea of what he was doing, but no one could be expected to behave perfectly under the circumstances.

Sunburst owed all of Starlight’s friends. He owed Applejack.

Don’t do it, Sunburst, said the wavering voice in his head.

“No,” he agreed. “Acting on my own was what got us all into this. Doing anything else is just going to make things worse.”

In spite of his apparent agreement with himself, however, he wasn’t quite convinced. Although… it’s not like it’s actually possible to make it any worse. Everything had already fallen apart. What could possibly come of his meeting with Hoops that wasn’t already doomed to happen if no one did anything?

Bad. Idea.

He snorted, pulled a book at random from one of the many cluttered shelves lining his office, and pretended to read. Then he slammed the book shut. “So what, am I supposed to just sit here and do nothing?”

Doing nothing had to be the wisest course of action. However, while he might be able to subdue his sense of guilt and obligation towards Applejack and Cupcake, the curiosity he could feel kindling was another matter. He knew nothing about Hoops other than a few addresses and school records. Yet, his daughter was sibling to the son of this pony. He couldn’t help but wonder just what sort of pony this Hoops was. If Applejack had taken a liking to him, that had to count for something.

Tartarus, Sunburst realized, he might even be as bad off as I am: wanting to do something but with no idea how.

That was enough to get him to stand up and start pacing. If we’re both in the same boat, that ought to make it all the more appropriate that we meet. Sunburst realized he might have been missing out on a valuable ally this entire time. If he and Hoops shared the same problems and the same goals, didn’t that mean they at least had a right to look out for each other?

And two heads are always better than one, Sunburst thought with a final, decisive nod. Maybe together we can find a way to at least fix some of this!

The last desperate protests of his more timid self were shut away. Sunburst quickly sorted and stored the few materials he had tried to busy himself with. He couldn’t stay in the Empire while this was still unresolved, not now that he not only had a plan, but something to learn that might help everyone. He might have been able to ignore a relationship he had no real business meddling in, but he couldn’t possibly ignore a kindred spirit. It was time to request another short leave of absence from Shining Armor.

And, Sunburst thought with a fresh surge of hope, Hoops has to want to see Pound as much as I want to see Pumpkin. Maybe we can even find a way to make that happen, too.

Chapter 11 - Spent and Beset

As Carrot had expected, the house was empty when he finally arrived. Far out on the outskirts of Manehattan, where every tower of the skyline stood lined up like dominoes in the distance, the house itself was as haphazard and slapdash a home as could be imagined. A gray-blue amalgam of salvaged metal and weathered wood, it had been assembled, added to, and rearranged constantly over the years Carrot’s family had occupied it. It was perched precariously at the edge of the river, which lapped at a massive cement foundation a few yards below. The foundation itself was part of a massive pier that had been abandoned and later overtaken by countless houses and other inscrutable structures.

After finding the key, hidden as always inside one of the battered wooden pillars holding the porch up, Carrot had let himself in and wandered around a bit to confirm he was alone. It was almost disconcerting for him to notice how little it had changed. When he and his brothers had lived there, the house seemed to change daily, and every month or so something would be altered radically. Usually by Devil knocking another wall down by accident, he recalled with a reluctant smile. It had been noisy almost to the point of pandemonium much of the time, but it was usually a good-natured kind of noise. It had been the stuff of friendly contest and brotherly banter, the energy of housework and renovation… the sounds of life.

It was part of the reason he hadn’t had any trouble adjusting to life with Pumpkin and Pound after their birth. To him, the hustle and din had been normal, even comforting on some levels. As such, he was surprised and dismayed by how much this quiet, empty home made him feel their absence as acutely as the city had reminded him of Cupcake.

Sweet Celestia, just… leave me alone, he thought as he made his way to his old room. Since none of the floors were quite on level, almost every doorway necessitated going up or down a few stairs. It was almost like the house had been built to model the waves their father spent most of his time on, the very act of walking through the home reminiscent of drifting up and down on the tides. The house was dark, but Carrot found his way easily enough. His was the smallest room in the house, not much larger than a walk-in closet. His bed and dresser were still there, and as Carrot sat down on the narrow mattress, he was surprised to note how clean and free of dust it all was. Dad always did run a clean ship.

There was nothing to unpack. He hadn’t bothered to bring anything from Ponyville. If there was anything he might need, he could probably find it stockpiled somewhere in the house. He lay back, frowning a little as he realized how small the old bed really was. He barely fit in it.

I guess it’s my own fault. I had years to build myself something bigger. When his brothers had outgrown their nurseries, they had taken up hammer and nails, knocked down the outside walls, and built new rooms to suit their needs. Although it was a process Carrot watched them do several times growing up, he had never done it himself, instead remaining content with the small space that he never quite outgrew, at least physically.

Probably been a long time since anything like that happened, Carrot reflected, thinking again about how little the house seemed to have changed. After he, Devil, and Pan had each grown up and moved out in turn, only their father would be left behind to occupy the place. Carrot supposed he didn’t have much need to change things without a family growing up inside its many walls. It made him strangely sad.

I should have come to visit more. Not much of a son, only coming back once something like this happens…

The next moment, Carrot snorted in disgust and rolled over. Oh yeah, like dad needs me for company. Not likely. It was his brothers who always got along best with their father. When he and Carrot talked, by contrast, the only merciful aspect to the awkward conversations was that they were usually short. Carrot knew his brothers visited often, especially since Devil played for a team in Manehattan, so he had never felt too guilty about staying in Ponyville.

Ponyville.

Carrot stood in frustration and wandered back into the main rooms. I know I came here to think about everything, but is it so much to ask that I forget about it just for a few hours?

* * *

Hoops hated answering the door. Back in Cloudsdale, if it wasn’t a crazed pair of mares from Celestia’s Witnesses (a cult that Celestia herself had tried to disband several times, to no avail), it was one of the neighbors with complaints about how Score’s weekly parties were too loud. As such, it was strange even to him how he leapt to open the door when the soft knock rattled it on its hinges.

Then again, this isn’t Cloudsdale. Hoops had been absent from parties for longer than he ever had been in his adult life. Aunt Screed’s apartment was as eternally silent and still as a tomb, and there was nothing for him in the city that didn’t cost money. If something didn’t change, he knew he would lose his mind. The idea of a guest coming to the apartment—for any reason—was so exciting, it even made him forget his fear that he was waiting there for lawyers to find him.

That fear returned, however, when he opened the door and saw the pony standing on the other side. He certainly looked like a lawyer with those enormous glasses, scraggly mane and beard, and eyes that were just a little watery, like they were unused to looking at anything farther away than a piece of paper. The blue cloak didn’t fit the image, though. Lawyers wore suits. This looked more like the costumes the geeks Hoops used to beat up after school wore.

“Can I help you?” Hoops asked. He shrank back a little, cocking his head defensively.

“You’re Hoops, right?” the other pony asked, looking him up and down.

“Uh…” For a moment, Hoops had the urge to give the stereotypical “who wants to know?” reply. It didn’t seem like it would get him very far, though. “Yeah. Who’re you?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to put you at a disadvantage,” the pony said. He gave a slight chuckle and looked away, as if embarrassed. Something about his mannerisms, the way everything about him was just a little disorganized, put Hoops a little more at ease. “I’m Sunburst.”

“Sunbur… oh. Oh. Yeah.” Horseapples. “How did you… what are you doing here?”

“I came to find you,” Sunburst answered. He raised an eyebrow in puzzlement, as if the answer ought to have been obvious. Hoops felt his unsteady ease vanish. He hated ponies like this, the type who ran their brains a mile a minute, then acted like everyone else ought to keep up with them.

“Uh… yeah, I didn’t really want to be found,” Hoops said, feeling his eyes narrow a little. He stepped back from the door and nudged it a little farther closed.

“Wait,” Sunburst pleaded. “Look, I know things have… in all honesty, turned into something of a disaster. I don’t think anyone blames you for leaving. Or, I don’t, at least. From what I heard from Applejack, my letter didn’t exactly inform you of the situation effectively, so I at least owe you an apology for that.”

“Applejack?” Hoops asked, opening the door wider again. “What did she say about me?”

“Well… as to that…”

Hoops didn’t like the way Sunburst was chewing his lip. “That bad, huh?” he asked before he thought better of it. He knew he should have turned back when he heard Applejack yelling after him, especially when he heard the pleas turn to angry demands. But at the time, he hadn’t been able to imagine staying a moment longer. He could only remember wanting to fly, fly so far away that no one would be able to find him.

Sunburst gave a small, mirthless laugh. “She isn’t happy, no. But that’s part of why I came. I want to find a way to fix things. Or at least fix what we can. It’s probably not much, but I feel we have to at least do something.”

“We?” Hoops asked. “Look, no offense, but there’s not exactly anything I can do. You ever see what happens when a mare finds out a guy has kids she didn’t know about?” Hoops watched Sunburst’s face for an appreciative moment of awe and horror. He didn’t see it, not like he was used to getting from Score or Dumbbell, anyway. Still, Sunburst’s confusion was probably good enough. “Not pretty. And how AJ found out was about the worst way I’ve ever heard of. Nah, I’m pretty sure she’s done with me.”

“Not necessarily,” Sunburst said, his brow furrowing. “She might give you another chance if you come back and do the right thing.”

“The right thing? And just what is that?”

Now Sunburst looked really confused. It was making Hoops angry. “You… well, I guess it is hard to say. But it certainly isn’t running away to Manehattan. If nothing else, you should have told Applejack where to find you in case Cupcake needed to talk to you.”

“Cupcake? The cougar I supposedly knocked up? What the hay does she need me for?” This is it. Time to find out how much money they want to wring out of me.

Sunburst’s brows twitched. He looked like he was getting angry too. “Again, it’s hard to say right now. But things have gotten a lot worse. She decided to tell her husband everything, and he left.”

Hoops stood there a for a few seconds, waiting for Sunburst to continue. When he didn’t, Hoops shrugged. “So?”

That got a shocked face. If Hoops wasn’t so on edge, he would have laughed at Sunburst’s stupefied look. “So, she’s alone with no one to look after her. Or help look after…” his voice seemed to catch in his throat. “Look. I know it’s confusing that we have this… connection. But it’s out on the table now, isn’t it? We each have a foal by this mare. Up until now, we haven’t been able to do anything about it, and that’s mainly been to protect her.”

“And that’s been fine by me. In fact, the way I see it, if she didn’t need anything from me before, then she doesn’t need anything from me now. So if she’s just trying to use me to get out of her own mess, tell her I’m not interested. And there’s a good chance a judge would see it that way, too.” It was a bluff, but it was all he had. Sunburst seemed to be waiting for him to lie down and just take whatever he was about to give. Well, ponyfeathers to that. If they want to ruin my life over this, they’re not getting it without at least some kind of fight.

Sunburst only looked flabbergasted. “They’ve lost their house. Their business! They’re living on charity, and you don’t care at all?”

“Not really,” Hoops said. “Look. I’m sorry her husband ditched her. But that’s her fault, isn’t it? I didn’t do a thing that night she didn’t ask for. Nopony told me she was married, and if she didn’t want kids, she should’ve taken care of that the morning after. None of this is my fault, and I’m not going to have my life ruined over it. Look around. You see a big, fancy house? No. I’m not some sugar daddy rolling in bits, and I sure as hay can’t just write checks for needy mares like it’s nothing. Sorry to disappoint her, but I’m not that kind of pony. You feel so bad for her? You fork over the bits. Sounds like she’s got you locked under her harness, anyway.”

Hoops made to slam the door shut. After a few fruitless shoves, he darted a baffled glance between the door, which stood as immobile as a boulder, and Sunburst. He could just see the light of a spell fading from the Unicorn’s horn above a dark, confused glare.

“This isn’t about money,” Sunburst said. “This is about your foal!”

“Not. Interested.” Hoops gave the door as strong a shove as he could, but he might as well have been pushing a brick wall. This is why Unicorns should be banned from sports.

“Not…” Sunburst looked like a fish out of water. “Don’t be ridiculous! Look, I know how stressful this has been for all of us, but you can’t go around saying things on a whim like that. That’s how you ended up here, isn’t it? You need to calm down and start thinking about this, or you’ll lose Pound forever.”

“Let go of the door,” Hoops growled.

“No! You can’t keep making stupid decisions like this. I know you’re confused, but we can work together now. No one’s asking you to figure it all out alone.”

“Stop it!” Hoops yelled. “Stop saying you ‘know’ this and you ‘know’ that! You don’t know anything. You don’t know anything about me, and you haven’t heard a thing I’ve told you. So listen up—I don’t care about any of it. Now go back where you came from before I throw you out a window.”

Hoops gave the mightiest shove he could muster, and with a flash of satisfaction, he felt the impossible force holding it give way. He and the door flew forward, but when it hit the frame, the thin wood exploded beneath his heavy shoulder, and he tumbled forward into the hall with a crash and a yelp. He felt the door break apart and fall in large pieces on top of him with a crash.

“Ow… damn it…” Hoops shook his head, scraps of dry, crumbly wood falling off his back. He glanced around angrily and spotted Sunburst a few paces away. The Unicorn had apparently managed to jump away when the door gave.

“What do you mean you don’t care?” Sunburst asked as if their conversation hadn’t been interrupted. “This is a pony’s life we’re talking about. You can’t just shrug it off like it doesn’t matter, not when it’s about your son.”

Hoops felt a knot of irritation and rage clench inside him. He had never once thought of the foal as his son. Something about words like “son” and “father” was too intimate, too personal. It brought up memories he couldn’t bear to think about at that moment. The word suddenly made him small, looking up at a much taller pony, a pony who looked down with such distance and apathy, it was like he was looking down at a homeless beggar, not a foal. Hoops couldn’t stand to be there like that again. He wouldn’t.

Hoops rose, pushing himself to the fullest extent of his height. He flared his huge wings, spreading them from wall to wall in the passageway as he faced Sunburst. He was satisfied to see how much taller he now stood against the bookish Unicorn, and the feelings of panic fled. He was the one in control again. Much Better.

“Get out,” he growled.

“And what about Applejack?” Sunburst persisted. “Are you just going to leave her alone without explanation?”

The words delivered another bitter lance to his heart, and Hoops knew he flinched. It was enough to douse some of the fury he was floating in, like a cold breeze shutting down a warm updraft. AJ. That was probably the most bitter part about this whole mess. He had liked Applejack, more than he thought he could like a mare. Other ponies he had dated just stared vapidly at him while he talked. Afterward, they prattled about makeup and saddlebags until he wanted to drown in the drinks he ordered for them. He didn’t have to talk about sports with Applejack, though. He could actually enjoy them with her, and on the afternoons they went out for a few one-on-one rounds, she held her own better than most stallions. He had never been able to actually do things with a mare before, at least other than the obvious, simple acts. He had been surprised how hollow it made dating other ponies look by comparison.

It was over now, though, and it had happened just as quickly as it had with the other mares. He wished that made it easier for him not to care. On the contrary, though, it hurt. A lot. He hadn’t known he could feel hurt quite like that as an adult, lying sleeplessly on the couch for hour after hour while the empty, aching pain in his chest ate a hole deeper and deeper inside him. He thought he had left that pain behind when the last pony he had cared about left.

It only made Hoops all the more certain of one thing: The thin, weak little Unicorn in front of him had no right to tell him what he ought to care about.

But when he didn’t answer right away, Sunburst seemed to think he’d gained some kind of advantage. He stepped closer. “What kind of pony are you? Are you fine with never seeing her again?”

“Yes,” Hoops lied. “Get it through your fucking head! I don’t care about any of it. Not Applejack, not the kid, not any of it. Now get out!”

He screamed the last words so loud, he could hear the windows rattle in their frames. Sunburst finally cowered back, his ears flipping flat to his skull in fear. Good, Hoops thought. That was the expression the idiot should look at him with—respect, not pity. But Sunburst didn’t run. A moment later, Hoops saw with another burst of rage that Sunburst was drawing himself up again, as tall as he could manage, then looked him square in the eye. For a moment, he felt his own resolve waver as he realized Sunburst looked nearly as angry as Hoops himself felt. He just held a much more composed and noble bearing to it.

“I was a fool,” Sunburst said. “I thought since Applejack saw something in you, that you had to be… but no. You’re just another scumbag.” He turned, his blue cloak billowing out behind him as if it wanted slap Hoops in the face. “You don’t deserve her. And you don’t deserve Pound. They’re better off rid of you.”

Hoops thought about jumping him. One leap was all it would take, and then he could batter that smug face with hooves heavy as anvils. But something about the words nailed him to floor. He watched, hot breath coursing out of his nostrils, as Sunburst strode down the hall and vanished around the corner.

It was a long time before his emotions cooled enough to let him move again. When he did, his hooves pushed scraps and splinters of wood away as he shuffled back inside the apartment. His mind was an empty slate, almost like the fury had bleached it blank. He wasn’t even trying to justify himself or think up arguments against Sunburst’s claims. He was just floating in a steadily draining pool of emotion, leaving him tired and stained with the ghosts of what he had felt.

He didn’t know how long he stayed like that, minutes or hours. All he knew was that when he looked up, he was startled to see Screed standing in the doorway. She looked down, her brow knit in displeasure as she nudged the broken wood with a long, sharp hoof.

“Who broke the door?” she asked quietly.

Hoops felt himself shrink with shame, and he felt suddenly small again, like a foal caught next to a broken lamp. When he spoke, the words sounded just as childish and repugnant to him. “Someone tried to break in. I chased them off, though. It’s fine.”

Screed didn’t say anything. She just looked at him with those quiet, dark eyes, slit pupils tall and narrow as a cat’s, and every bit as piercing and scrutinizing. She didn’t contradict him, but he knew with absolute certainty that she didn’t believe him for an instant.

* * *

For the first time in years, the house smelled of something other than salt and sweat. Although most of the rooms remained dark and silent, all the lights in the kitchen were on. Waves of heat seemed pour out of it, carrying the incongruous smell of warm flour and yeast into every room.

The small iron oven, a dented, battered thing about half the size of most home ovens, was one of the only additions Carrot had made to the house in his life. It had taken him five hours to drag it home from a scrap yard when he was seven years old. It was the oven he had first started baking in, and the one he had been using when he had earned his cutie mark. Now, the oven was cooling in the corner, the wood fire beneath it smoldering as it burnt the last of its energy out. On a spindly, unpainted table nearby, a golden loaf of plain, sweet-smelling bread sat in a blackened pan. Soft curtains of steam were still rising from it, drifting and twirling in the draft before vanishing into the salty air.

The loaf was alone in the room, forgotten as it slowly grew cold. Several rooms away, hidden from the light and warmth of the kitchen, Carrot lay curled in the dark on his foalhood bed, furiously suffocating his sobs in a ragged pillow. As far as his room was from the kitchen, it wasn’t far enough away that he could escape the smell of the baking, or the memories it carried with it.

Chapter 12 - The Echo of Absence

Applejack opened the farmhouse door, and she felt her eyes widen a little in surprise as she saw who had knocked. “Starlight? What brings you all the way out here? Any news about Carrot?”

From Starlight’s expression, Applejack knew before she answered that she hadn’t come to the Apple farm for that. She shook her head sadly. “I’m afraid not. Cupcake still hasn’t heard a word from him, and no one else has either, as far as we know.”

“Oh,” Applejack said. The disappointment she felt was mingled with the tension she now carried around with her constantly. She still felt she ought to be doing more to help, but Carrot had taken himself beyond the reach of anyone in Ponyville. Only Cupcake knew precisely where he had gone, and for now, she was respecting his request to be left alone.

But like Starlight, Applejack knew that whenever Carrot did return, it wouldn’t necessarily mean he and Cupcake would start to repair their relationship. On the contrary, there was a good chance it would be the beginning of the end. And if the prospect hung over them so darkly, she didn’t even want to imagine what it was doing to either Cupcake or Carrot.

“I do have an update for you, though,” Starlight said. She was hiding it, but Applejack could glimpse a grimace in how tightly Starlight’s lips were pulled over her teeth. It was bad news, then.

“About what?”

“Hoops,” Starlight said.

Applejack felt her eyes narrow, and the muscles in her face hardened. “He come back?”

“No. And I’m afraid that by the sound of it, he might not at all.”

“Sounds like there’s a story in that,” Applejack said, stepping back from the door. She tried to keep the ice out of her voice as much as she could. Starlight had no part in what Hoops had done, and Applejack knew it wouldn’t be right to vent any of her anger at her. “Why don’t you come inside? Can I get you anything?”

“No, thank you, I’m alright,” Starlight said, following Applejack inside. Applejack saw her give a small, grateful shiver as she stepped into the warm air.

“So,” Applejack continued, closing the winter chill outside, “where’s this info on Hoops from then?”

There was no mistaking it this time; Starlight gave a noticeable grimace before suppressing it. She looked embarrassed, Applejack thought. “Sunburst.”

“Sunburst?”

“Yeah… listen, AJ, I need to apologize for him,” Starlight sighed. “I mentioned what you told me, about Hoops leaving the area completely. I didn’t think he would do anything about it, considering how things are right now. Honestly, I didn’t even think it was possible for him to do anything. I guess I should have known better.” She rolled her eyes. “He went and tracked Hoops to Manehattan. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, he actually went after him.”

“Manehattan?”

“Yeah… Listen, AJ, I really am sorry. And I’ll be sure he apologizes next time he gets the chance, too. He shouldn’t have gone messing with Hoops without talking to you first. I thought he would’ve known that. But apparently, he got it in his head that he and Hoops might be able to work together somehow.”

Applejack felt her lips twist a little, torn between a scowl and a bitter laugh. “Yeah, Hoops and Sunburst… they ain’t exactly birds of a feather. So what happened?”

“It… didn’t go well,” Starlight hedged. “In fact, I’m afraid it went pretty badly.”

“How bad?”

“Well… From the sound of it, Hoops was not the pony Sunburst was expecting him to be.” Starlight shook her head. “I’m sorry, AJ, but it sounds like you were right about him.”

Applejack blinked. Was I right? “If you’re beating around the bush, you don’t need to. What exactly happened? Did Sunburst say?”

“Yeah,” Starlight said reluctantly. She pulled a lightly-rumpled letter out of her saddlebag, but her reticence told Applejack she didn’t want Applejack to know the specifics of whatever Hoops had said. She was trying to protect her, soften the blow. Even so, she held it out for Applejack to take. “Unless Sunburst’s exaggerating, Hoops was… very clear about some things. It’s pretty unpleasant, AJ.”

She didn’t voice aloud the offer to take the letter away unread. Applejack was determined, though. Whatever Hoops had said, she wanted to know, no matter how much the words hurt her. It would be better than second-guessing. Without another word, she took the letter.

Starlight, as Applejack had suspected, had been sugarcoating things. It had definitely not gone well. Applejack could almost feel Sunburst’s disappointment and anger, the quiet despair meeting with Hoops had left him with. Beneath it, Applejack could easily imagine the venom in Hoops’ own words, and she had little doubt that Sunburst reported them faithfully. Even written, the mere tempo of the words reminded her of Hoops, or at least how he sounded at his worst.

To her surprise, though, the words somehow didn’t hit Applejack like she knew they ought to. It wasn’t that Sunburst had been vague enough to leave room for doubt. On the contrary, he had left very little to the imagination. And as she read what Hoops had said about her and their relationship, she did feel a heavy blow somewhere deep inside. No one could hear such words and not be hurt by them. Instead of cementing her fury, though, she only felt a strange, almost inexplicable sympathy.

Manehattan.

“I’m so sorry, Applejack,” Starlight said quietly. She wasn’t just apologizing for Sunburst anymore.

“Yeah,” Applejack said slowly, not really responding to anything. She wasn’t even reading the letter anymore. Her mind had taken her elsewhere, putting memories and feelings before her that she hadn’t thought about for years and years.

She knew she ought to be furious. The blow of what Hoops had said was tempered, however, with a curious certainty that they were lies. They were awful, malicious lies, and they hurt her almost as much as if Hoops had truly meant them. But it wasn’t just that she thought Hoops was lying about how he felt. If she was right, she thought she might understand exactly why he was lying, too.

“Applejack?”

“Sorry, sugarcube,” she said, shaking her head. “Got lost in my own thoughts for a minute there.”

“It’s okay,” Starlight said. She gave Applejack a soft, sad smile. “Do you want to talk about anything?”

She thinks I’m about to fall apart, Applejack realized distantly. “Nah, thanks Starlight. If you don’t mind, though, I think I’d like to think some things through.”

“I understand. But you know where to find me if you need me.”

“Sure thing,” Applejack said. She kept her voice neutral as she walked Starlight back to the door. “You heading back to the castle?”

Starlight nodded. “I’ll be helping Cupcake again this afternoon. And listen, Applejack, I really am so sorry. I know this wasn’t a good way for this to end up.”

Applejack didn’t really know what to say to that. “I’ll be alright, sugarcube. And listen, don’t be too hard on Sunburst, okay? I know he was just trying to help. It was good of him to think of me like he did.”

“If you say so,” Starlight said with a sheepish smile. “I mean… I suppose you have some answers now, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do.”

Applejack watched Starlight disappear into the trees. In spite of what she had told her, though, Applejack now felt that she had fewer answers than she had before, not more. She stood there for some time, impervious to the cold air as she sorted through her thoughts.

He might’ve meant every word, she thought, feeling a bitter needle jab into her heart as she did. He might just be that kind of pony. It wouldn’t be the first time I was wrong about something like that.

But the memory of her own weakness wouldn’t let her hold onto that judgment anymore. She hadn’t thought of it before, but she had not always been so steadfast and dependable, either. There had been a time, long ago, when she too had run away from fear and pain, right into the streets of Manehattan. She had said things she wasn’t proud of and hurt ponies she cared about. She had hidden behind lies. It felt safer to do that than be the pony she was afraid to be. And it had taken an alien and hostile environment to wake her up and make her realize what she was throwing away.

If that’s the case, though...

Sunburst had mentioned Hoops’ address in the letter. She could go after him, if she chose. But as she stood there, looking out over the farm she had nearly left forever, remembering the pony she had been, she knew it was not something she could allow herself to do.

At least... not yet. She turned, walked inside, and shut the door behind her.

Sunburst had accomplished more than he thought. She knew it might very well be that Hoops was exactly the sort of pony Starlight and Sunburst now thought he was. It might be that the anger and loathing she had felt for him when he ran away would be the only reaction he would ever deserve from her. And if that turned out to be the case, she would bury any feelings between them forever.

But she needed to know. And she decided with a strange sense of resignation that if what she suspected was true, then she wanted to give him one final chance to show her what kind of pony he was. The worst of it was that in order to find out, she couldn’t go after him. Ponies do act like idiots, sometimes. Maybe... maybe sometimes we need to be idiots so we can figure out what we really want to do.

So, she would wait; at least for just a little longer, until something else had a chance to become clear to her. She would let him be an idiot, if only to find out if he could stand being an idiot. But she couldn’t make that choice for him.

What’ll matter, she decided, is whether he keeps his head in the dirt… or acts like a grown pony again. That’s what’ll tell me what I need to do with him.

* * *

“That looks like the last of it,” Starlight said, laying a final pair of folded foal pajamas aside on the bed.

“Thank you, dearie,” Cupcake said.

“Was there anything else?”

“No, I don’t really think so,” Cupcake said, giving a relieved sigh and looking around with slight astonishment. “I don’t think I realized how hard it was getting to keep up with the basics, even with both…” She trailed off, and Starlight saw her swallow hard, still unable to bring herself to mention Carrot. Whatever else she was feeling, though, she buried it before Starlight could say anything. “Well, it’s been a lifesaver, what you and Applejack have done. I really can’t thank you enough.”

“Don’t even mention it,” Starlight said. “Are you sure there isn’t anything else you’d like help with? It’s barely even noon.”

“No. I have an appointment with Mayor Mare later, but that’s not for another few hours.”

“Will you need anyone to watch the twins while you’re there?”

“No, no, I can bring them along, no one will mind,” Cupcake said dismissively. “Really, I’m sure you have other things you want to be doing with your day. I can manage from here on out.”

“Well. Okay. If you’re sure.” Starlight nodded and headed out of the bedroom. Neither it nor the parlor were what most ponies would call tidy, but the storm of discarded toys, clothes, dishes, and other paraphernalia of family living had been tamed within the bounds of organized chaos. The whole suite felt less oppressive and claustrophobic as a result, at least to Starlight, and she hoped it took some strain off of Cupcake as well.

Starlight made her way to the door, assuming that nothing more needed to be said. Before she could leave, however, she heard Cupcake again behind her. “Um…”

She paused, waiting for something else to be said. When she heard nothing, she turned, puzzled. Cupcake was still standing in the doorway to the bedroom, shifting her hooves uncomfortably. She didn’t seem to want to look at Starlight.

“Is something the matter?” Starlight asked.

“No… no,” Cupcake said, shaking her head. “Nothing ‘wrong,’ per se, I just…” her words trailed off again, and she chewed the inside of her cheek uncomfortably. “I was just thinking, now that you and Applejack both have helped pull this place back from the brink, it’ll be easier to keep things running now. So... I guess I’m trying to say, you don’t need to keep coming by if you don’t want to. I think Applejack and I can manage.”

“It’s no trouble,” Starlight assured. “Applejack still has her work to look after all, and I’m nearby. Many backs make lighter loads, as they say.” She chuckled awkwardly, but felt her smile fade when Cupcake’s expression didn’t change. She turned to face her directly. “Unless... did I do something wrong?”

“No, of course not, not at all, dearie,” Cupcake said, shaking her head emphatically. “It’s nothing you’ve done. You’ve been incredibly generous, under the circumstances. But it’s those circumstances I’m worried about, if you take my meaning.”

Starlight took a deep breath and let it out slowly, but she didn’t look away from Cupcake. She thought she did take her meaning, but she wanted to be sure. “I’m a little confused; what exactly do you mean?”

Cupcake frowned a little. She clearly didn’t want to put whatever she had in mind bluntly. “Well… you’re friends with Sunburst, aren’t you?”

Yep, there it is. Starlight nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

“Maybe even more than friends?”

Where did that come from? Starlight opened her mouth to answer, but hesitated. She didn’t know if there was an answer to that question to be had at that time. “That’s kind of complicated at the moment. But it’s really not relevant, is it?” she offered instead.

Cupcake gave her a deadpan stare. Then she turned away, embarrassed. “Listen, I appreciate your kindness. I really do. I suppose I just feel a little… uncomfortable, I guess, with how much you’re helping. I can feel the rift between us every time you look at me. I can see there’s a lot of anger and mistrust still. I’d have to be blind not to.”

Starlight blinked in shock. I didn’t think… it can’t be that obvious. I decided not to act on anything.

“It’s okay,” Cupcake said gently, but she still didn’t look at Starlight. “I couldn’t blame you, considering your history with Sunburst. Regardless of whatever I think of him, I know things are different between you two. So I can’t really expect you not to be on his side.”

“It’s not really about sides right now,” Starlight tried.

“I know. You said that before. But that’s what it usually comes down to, in the end,” Cupcake sighed. “And I don’t expect things to be friendly between us if you care about Sunburst. I thought it might be easier for you to not have to help me anymore, if that’s the case.”

Starlight bit her lip. It’s not the right time yet. As firmly as she wanted to believe that the right time would come, however, she could barely find the willpower to keep her tongue still. Sunburst’s last correspondence still weighed heavily on her. She couldn’t get it out of her head, how despondent he had sounded after everything with Hoops had fallen through so badly. He had placed the last of his energy and hope in that desperate gamble to either fix something or else find someone else who really just… understood the situation. Starlight hated to imagine him so beaten down and hopeless, but she couldn’t think of anything she could possibly do to help.

Nothing that fits within the bounds of common decency, at any rate, she told herself. She wanted to follow her own advice, but Cupcake had given her an opening. Against all her better judgment, and almost before she could really try to talk herself out of it, she gave in to the pressure within and took it. “You’re okay with me being upset, but you don’t want to do anything about it?” she finally said.

“I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do about it. I just don’t want you to feel obligated to do anything for me if you’re also angry. It’s the only thing I can think to do.”

“Well, what about Sunburst, then?” Starlight asked. “If this is because we’re both concerned about him in some way, then maybe that’s where something needs to be fixed.” She was careful to avoid any words that directly placed blame. As firmly as she had told herself she wouldn’t act on Sunburst’s behalf, she hadn’t been able to resist mulling over some of the ways she might approach it. Now, some of that planning was coming into effect.

To her surprise, however, Cupcake only gave a soft, sad laugh. “Of all the things I’ve messed up, I don’t think he really ranks high on the list,” she said.

Starlight felt her jaw drop a little in angry shock. “What?” was all she managed to say.

Cupcake shrugged. “Look, I know this has all been stressful for him, and I won’t pretend to really understand why he’s done some of the things he has. But he’s gotten what he wanted, hasn’t he? Carrot knows about him now, and there hasn’t been any talk of foal support or anything else either of us might ask from him. So, he’s free to go back to the Crystal Empire, or wherever he wants, and he doesn’t have to worry about keeping my secret anymore. He’s essentially free.”

“…That’s what you think this has all been about?” Starlight asked, giving free reign to her incredulity.

“What else would it be about?” Cupcake asked, frowning at Starlight’s reaction.

“Uh… Pumpkin? His daughter?”

Cupcake’s frown deepened. “Pumpkin isn’t his daughter.” She waved a hoof dismissively when Starlight opened her mouth in outrage. “Okay, yes, technically she is, but they’re not family. You don’t get to call a foal you gave some mare in Las Pegasus your daughter. Besides,” she added, cutting off Starlight when she tried to speak again, “it’s not like that’s what he was really after that night.”

“Then why exactly do you think he tracked you down afterwards?” Starlight demanded. “Why in Equestria do you think he kept coming back?”

Cupcake only shook her head. “Celestia help me if I know. That’s exactly what I kept trying to figure out when he wouldn’t just take my word for everything and leave. I thought I made him a pretty astounding offer, all things considered. I didn’t want anything from him. I didn’t want anyone punished or any kind of complicated arrangements. I just wanted to keep Carrot from finding out. Why he didn’t believe me, I have no idea.”

“I don’t believe this,” Starlight breathed. She sat down hard on the floor, staring across the room at Cupcake with wide eyes. “You really think that’s all he cared about? That he doesn’t care about Pumpkin at all?”

“Well, I know he cares about her,” Cupcake admitted. “He seems like a decent pony, when all’s said and done. And only a monster wouldn’t care about a foal at all.” She fixed Starlight with a stern gaze. “But he doesn’t love her or anything, not like family. He can’t. He’s not her father, not in the ways that matter. That’s Carrot, and it always will be.”

Twilight’s lessons have done nothing to prepare me for this, Starlight found herself thinking. She was starting to understand why neither Cupcake nor Sunburst had felt confident that even Princess Cadence would be able to work with them effectively. How was anypony qualified to mediate a schism like this? She wanted to flee and consult at least five different specialists somewhere in large, well-funded psychology academies.

But Sunburst didn’t have a team of specialists on his side. At that moment, all he had was her. She supposed her best was all she could do for any of them, though the consequences of her potential ineptitude almost petrified her. Almost. “Look. Cupcake. I know that you don’t have much reason to see Sunburst in a favorable light. He made a serious mistake, and it’s cost you a lot.”

Cupcake’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s a bit of an understatement, dearie.”

Starlight pressed on unperturbed. “I know you haven’t had any reason to hear him out, and I’m guessing you two haven’t really talked much at all beyond the barest essentials.”

“Are you going somewhere with this? No, we haven’t had some big heart-to-heart. It’s not usually something one does when trying to keep her husband unaware of it.”

“So,” Starlight said, pressing her forehooves together in front of her face in an idle, distracted motion, “it makes sense that you wouldn’t really understand where he’s coming from, or how he’s felt these past few years. But… you really need to take my word for it that you have him all wrong.”

Cupcake narrowed her eyes at Starlight. “Listen, Starlight. I’m not trying to badmouth your coltfriend. This is exactly why I suggested maybe we shouldn’t try to act like there’s nothing wrong between us when, clearly, there is. But I don’t really want to understand Sunburst, or whatever it is you think I need to do. My family is just about ruined because of him. Now that everything’s out in the open, I just want him to leave us alone.”

Starlight threw up her hooves. “So, we’re back to where we started. You know some of us are upset, but you don’t want to do anything about it?”

“Alright, fine. Enlighten me,” Cupcake said. She pressed a hoof to her forehead, closing her eyes and grimacing as if pushing back a headache.

Starlight took another deep breath. She stood up and walked gently across the room, bringing herself closer to where Cupcake stood. Be. Careful. “Sunburst cares about Pumpkin,” she started cautiously. “A lot. More than somepony who’s just concerned about a foal’s well-being. To him, Pumpkin is his daughter in every sense of the word.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Cupcake snapped. “Was he there when she was born? Has he been taking care of her through these first phases of her life? If he cared at all about having a foal, he would have done it with a pony who wanted a foal with him.”

“Was he allowed to be there when she was born?” Starlight countered. Cupcake looked furious at the very notion. Okay, bad idea. Different approach. “Fine. You’re right. Ideally, foals should be born to parents who are happily together. But it didn’t work out that way in this case. And I thought you and he agreed that you both had some part in making mistakes that night.”

“It doesn’t matter. Sunburst isn’t family, so he can’t care about Pumpkin the way Carrot and I do. End of story.”

“Why do you get to say that?” Starlight asked. “Why do you get to just declare what he is and isn’t allowed to care about?”

“I’m her mother,” Cupcake said, aghast. “I’m pretty sure I have a handle on who really cares about her and who doesn’t.”

“And Sunburst’s her father. So, how is there a difference in authority there?”

Cupcake opened her mouth a few times, closing it soundlessly each time. She turned away. “He’s a stallion. Stallions don’t have the same bond with their foals as mothers do.”

Starlight could only gape at her. “Are you serious?” Cupcake didn’t say anything. Starlight could feel her face scrunch up as she held back everything she wanted to yell at Cupcake. It was only because she didn’t think Cupcake really believed what she was saying that she was able to hold back. She pressed her forehooves together again, pushing against herself with all her strength to keep from snapping. She’s just trying to rebuff what I’m saying. It was only after a few seconds that she felt safe speaking again.

“Sunburst,” she said slowly, measuring each word so it didn’t get away from her and turn into a rant, “has wanted a family all his life. No, he did not go into that hotel room that night wanting to start a family. But there is a beautiful baby girl sleeping in the next room, and Sunburst is her father. And he wants to be her father, every bit as much as Carrot does, even if none of that makes sense within what we usually think of as an ideal family. He loves that little foal. And it’s because he loves her and cares for her that he agreed to vanish into some frozen wasteland—because he didn’t want her family torn apart. But that’s also why he couldn’t just forget about her.”

“Well, that’s a lovely, if twisted, little idea,” Cupcake said. “But I don’t see how it could be true.”

“Which part of it?” Starlight asked. “Tell me which part just couldn’t be true.” When Cupcake didn’t answer, she sighed angrily. “You told Applejack you never wanted anything grandiose or extravagant out of life. You told her it was always your dream just to have your own business and raise a family here in Ponyville. You said you always thought that was what would make you happy. So. Explain to me how it’s right to say that Sunburst can’t want exactly the same thing.”

She couldn’t quite interpret Cupcake’s expression. The confusion was plain enough, as was the anger, but she couldn’t tell if there was also shock or just defensiveness. The conversation had gone horribly, and she wasn’t even sure what she was saying was right. She only knew it was at least close to what she believed. “I want you to imagine something,” she pressed on. “Just imagine, for one minute, that I’m right, and Sunburst loves Pumpkin as much as any father loves their daughter. If, growing up, one of the things you always wanted one day was a foal, then maybe you should think about what it means for you to have one, to hold her every day, and then tell Sunburst he can never even see his. Think about what it would be like for someone to tell you that you’d never be allowed to see Pumpkin or Pound again.”

That hit Cupcake hard. From her expression, one might have thought Starlight had just physically struck her. Indeed, Starlight was afraid Cupcake might be close to lashing out the way she had at Sunburst before.

“Just… look,” Starlight said, attempting to sound placating. “I’m not saying I know how all of this should fit together in the end. I don’t think I have any right to say that. But if you really want to know what I think… I think Sunburst at least deserves to have a chance to be some part of Pumpkin’s life, if that’s what he wants.”

“I don’t…” Cupcake seemed to be barely holding herself together. Starlight didn’t know if Cupcake was on the verge of breaking down or attacking her. Either way, it was probably time to leave. Before she could turn away, however, Cupcake managed to continue. “I don’t remember asking what you thought.”

Definitely time to go. Starlight backed away carefully, turned, and made her way towards the door. “You didn’t.”

Somehow, though, as terrified as she was at how badly the conversation had gone, she couldn’t bring herself to regret anything she had said.

* * *

Hoops watched the stream of carriages and trotting ponies down on the ground below with an idle, distracted gaze. There was barely enough room on the tiny balcony to stand with his front legs draped over the thin metal railing that held him back from a plummet. Balanced precariously on the rail next to him was a glass tumbler filled with oily liquid, gleaming gold in the ambient light from all the buildings. He had avoided raiding Screed’s stash in the time he had been staying with her, but when his mind wouldn’t stop turning over the events in Ponyville, he had given in.

It didn’t help. All it seemed to do was slow his thoughts down, letting them marinate in guilt and worry for even longer before he could pull himself away again. It was an utterly strange sensation, but the more time he spent in Manehattan, the more he felt sad, of all things. He felt increasingly guilty over leaving Applejack without a word, and the days gone by without seeing her were eating at him more than he thought should be possible.

Why? he wondered bitterly, grabbing the glass and staring into the golden depths with a scowl. Never had any trouble ditching annoying mares before.

He didn’t even need to remind himself that Applejack had never been annoying. There were too many other things to feel bad about if he really wanted to. Behind the shame following his memories of Applejack, he couldn’t get the confrontation with the blasted Unicorn out of his mind either. He had wanted to pummel the guy, but what lingered with him now was the disappointment and disgust he had looked at Hoops with. He couldn’t figure out why the derision seemed to hit him so hard. As he looked back on the incident, he also couldn’t help feeling that the pony had somehow looked… sad, for some unfathomable reason. Almost lonely, if a pony could look lonely while also looking furious.

Hoops tilted the glass back and drained another shot’s worth. The burning, at least, could distract him for a few seconds before he had to swallow it with a cough. Geez, would it kill Screed to keep some simple beer around? Even Screed had seemed more distant after the confrontation, and that was saying something. He hadn’t been able to get any real clues out of her. It was in the way she looked at him. There was something there that had never been there before, and he was almost afraid to try and puzzle out what it was.

The door opened behind him, and Screed herself squeezed out of the apartment until she stood halfway outside, looking at him curiously. “Cold out, isn’t it?”

Hoops shrugged. “Don’t really feel it.”

Screed tilted her head a fraction of an inch, but shrugged and looked away. “Shouldn’t drink if you’re upset. Makes it worse.”

“Not upset,” Hoops argued with a dark frown. He turned back to the view below and stared at the passing carriages through the long lines of his mane. “Just… thinking.”

Screed didn’t reply to that. She stood there, perfectly still, exactly long enough for it to be awkward. Then, she took another few steps forward, placed her legs on the rail next to Hoops, and watched the traffic with him. “Decided what to do yet?”

Hoops grimaced and took another pull at the glass. “No.”

Screed nodded, a long, slow, and deliberate motion. She might have bitten the corner of her mouth in thought, but Hoops couldn’t quite see clearly without turning to look. He wasn’t interested enough to do it.

“Want to talk?”

Slowly, Hoops shook his head. In the middle of a long sigh, he gave weary voice to his answer. “Nah.”

Again, Screed nodded silently. She didn’t leave, though. Instead, she just stood there with him, quiet but present, watching the lifeblood of Manehattan stream by.

It was something Hoops had always appreciated about her without ever really thinking about it. Most ponies needed to be kept at a certain distance, Hoops had found. It was easier to stay in control that way. Friends could turn to enemies in a heartbeat, but if Hoops never cared about them in the first place, it was always easy to burn the bridge and get a good laugh in while doing it. That way, it never hurt when ponies inevitably walked out of his life.

Screed, however, managed to remain an exception to his efforts. Maybe it was because she didn’t try. Screed was always just… around. She never tried to learn more about his life, but she always let him talk if he felt like it. It didn’t do much good to brag around her, but neither did she try to shape him in any way. Perhaps that was why he’d never felt the need to push her away. She was simply a presence, seemingly as eternal as Celestia herself, but placid and cold as a mountain. She was just there. And that was something that didn’t scare him.

Then, almost before he knew he was saying it, Hoops asked, “You hear from dad at all lately?”

That earned him a piercing look. Hoops punched himself mentally. Where the hay did that come from? It wasn’t something he had thought about in years.

“No,” Screed finally answered. “Have you?”

“No,” Hoops said, tilting his head lower and letting more of his mane fall into his eyes. “Not since last time.”

“Why ask?”

“I don’t know,” Hoops answered truthfully. “I just wondered if he’d come around again at all.”

“…No.” Screed stared at him for awhile, but neither of them said anything more. Eventually, she looked away and out at the city again. Another long silence lapsed in. With only the dwindling rum left in the glass as a distraction, Hoops was starting to feel antsy.

Aw, hay with it. “Screed? What makes you happy?”

She blinked and looked at him. He couldn’t tell if her furrowed brow conveyed confusion or annoyance. It might have been both. “That’s an odd question.”

Hoops shrugged. “Just asking.”

She turned away, looking uncomfortable. “What makes you happy?”

“I don’t know. Sports. Flying.” Applejack, he added silently. “Things like that.”

Screed remained silent, unmoving. She didn’t even give a sign that she was paying attention to him.

“So,” Hoops continued, “You probably like your job, right? Building things. Fixing things.”

“I like my job,” she agreed. “But it’s not what makes me happy.”

Hoops turned back to her, ears perked as he frowned. “What do you mean?”

Once again, she didn’t answer. He huffed a little in annoyance.

“Well, I know it can’t be the apartment.” He looked back behind him at the open door and wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Seriously, Screed. I know you can afford a place ten times this big. Why do you—”

“Things don’t make you happy.” Screed stared down at the bustling road beneath them, but she didn’t seem to be paying attention to it. “There’s a reason rich bankers and stock traders kill themselves all the time in this city. Money’s good. Jobs are good. Ambition’s especially good. They don’t seem to do the trick, though.” She gave him a cautious look. “Athletes don’t always do so great if they’re forced to retire, either.”

“Heh. That’s a problem I’ll be happy to have, if I can get to it,” Hoops said with a small laugh. After that, Screed seemed content to let the issue die. Hoops, however, hadn’t quite reached the point he was trying to raise.

“Did he ever…” Hoops asked slowly, but stopped when he realized he didn’t quite know where the question was going. Screed was looking at him again, and it made him uncomfortable. “He’s happy, right? I mean, you know where he is.”

“…Yes.”

“Thought so,” Hoops said. He took another drink, letting the burning, bittersweet taste linger. The answer satisfied him, but also made him feel strangely sick. He put the latter effect down to the alcohol. “I mean, how could he not be? Goes wherever he wants, does whatever he wants… Good stuff.”

“No.”

“Huh?”

“Not happy,” Screed said. She was looking at the traffic again, but her eyes were narrowed as if she were looking down at a particularly distasteful, rotting piece of fruit. “I said I knew where he was. But he’s not happy.”

“What do you mean?” Hoops asked, giving her a dark frown. “How do you know?”

“He’s my brother, Hoops.” He shrank back almost against the wall in the shadow of the dark glare she turned on him. “Don’t question what I know about him.” A moment later, the intensity faded, and she went back to staring quietly at the city. “He’s not happy. I can see how he might look happy. He’s always chasing pleasure. All it does is let him hide, though.”

“Hide? From who?”

“Himself, I think.”

“…huh?”

“Way I see it, as long as he’s distracted, he doesn’t need to worry about the things hurting him inside. He never figured out how to deal with those sorts of things. But at the end of the day, he’s always back where he started. And he’s always alone. Nothing changes. That’s how it will always be for him. So, no. He’s not happy.”

“So…” Hoops swallowed his nervousness and carefully approached the rail again. “ ‘Things changing.’ That’s what makes ponies happy?”

When she answered, she didn’t seem satisfied with her own reply. “In a way.”

Hoops snorted a short laugh. “Sure. That explains the apartment.”

To his surprise, that got a tiny smile from her. “You’ve changed.”

“Huh?”

“Changed. Grown. More than just height.” She turned and looked at him, eyes bright in the cool night. “You’ve got what it takes to figure out what to do. You’re a good colt, Hoops. I’ve always been proud of you. I hope you know that.”

“Uh… sure.” Now Hoops was really confused. It was disconcertingly unlike his aunt to sound so… sappy. But then, he supposed he had started the stupid conversation. It seemed she was tired of it too, since she had started to walk back inside. Nevertheless, he realized she had never quite answered his question.

“So…” he asked, staying by the rail as she left him behind. “Are you happy?”

She paused, an ear twitching back to listen.

“I mean… you’re alone,” Hoops added, gesturing at the apartment even though she wouldn’t see. “Does that mean you’re unhappy?”

“I’m not alone,” Screed said softly. She looked back and gave him a small smile, pointed teeth glinting the golden light. “You’ve always been around, haven’t you?” Then she went inside and disappeared, leaving him once again to his thoughts and the endless, sleepless stream of life below.

* * *

The sun was rising behind Carrot. He could just feel the warmth of it, a feeble, thin lightening of the frigid sea air blowing over him. The pavement was tinged orange-red with its rising light, but the door in front of him was as emerald green as it had been on the clear afternoon he had arrived. He could see his mirror image in the polished doorknob, warped and distorted, gold coat reflected in cold metal. He felt strangely empty. It was as if he had been cut open, and hour after hour, mile after mile, he had let feelings and thoughts just drain out of him. He had left a long, crooked trail across Equestria, leaving everyone and everything as far behind as he was physically able to. Finally, as he stood on that doorstep, he felt dry and hollow. Or perhaps it was simply exhaustion. Once again, he didn’t even have the energy to feel sad.

The door opened silently at his touch, and he stepped inside.

Chapter 13 - Coffee and Rum

“Anyway, those are the basics of what you need to know,” Prudent said. He compiled the heavily-inked papers into a stack, shuffled them into an envelope, then slid them across the mahogany desk towards Carrot. He was tall even for a Unicorn, his coat a slightly richer variant of the envelope’s beige. His black, neatly-styled mane and small, silver glasses reminded Carrot more of a young actor than a lawyer.

Indeed, Carrot had been a little put off at how young Prudent seemed. He hadn’t remembered much about the lawyer, but if he had been practicing back when his father had first contracted him, he had to be in his forties. Carrot could only assume time had been unjustly kind to him. His voice was rich, measured, and reassuring, but it didn’t completely hide his unease and astonishment as Carrot explained the basics of what had happened.

“Though I think it goes without saying,” Prudent continued, taking a more cautious tone, “that a lot of this is going to be subjected to an unusually heavy dose of interpretation. The circumstances are incredibly unique, and many of the normal rules and questions may not apply.”

“I understand,” Carrot said quietly.

“Now, all of that aside…” Prudent fidgeted with his glasses, as if trying to decide something. “You haven’t asked, but part of my job is to be certain that you as the client are getting what you want.”

Carrot looked up and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He wasn’t sure he liked the direction the lawyer was headed.

“And, though it does not affect my professional capacity directly, our firm has built a rather strong professional relationship with your family over the years. I do not know that your father and I could be called friends, per se, but nevertheless, I can’t help but feel I would be remiss if I did not ensure I had helped you consider any and all alternatives available to you.”

“Your point?” Carrot pressed.

“If you are not yet fully fixed on your course, you may wish to take some more time to be certain that this is truly the right thing for you,” Prudent said gently. “I have worked alongside numerous certified marital counselors in cases with some similarities to yours, and I’d be happy to refer you to any of them. Or I could find someone to recommend in Ponyville.”

“You think counseling can fix this?” Carrot asked. “Were you paying attention? We’re not fretting about our ‘spark’ going out or whatever petty complaints these counselors deal with. Cupcake cheated on me with two stallions in one night! What in Equestria makes you think I'm not sure about this?”

“I would not dare to downplay the significance of what has happened,” Prudent said, utterly unfazed. “Nor the devastating impact it has had on you. It’s only that it is part of my job to be sure you as a client are getting what you want, and during our discussions, I thought perhaps you seemed... hesitant, on some points. Now, your case is very unique. But, it’s not necessarily the worst I’ve encountered. In cases like yours, ponies can sometimes feel the dissolution of the relationship is a foregone conclusion. However, I have worked with couples who eventually recovered from betrayals and went on to enjoy long, healthy relationships. And then again, others did not. I only bring it up to demonstrate that, in some cases, it is not impossible for the damage to be healed, should you wish to exhaust the possibility before taking this step. If, however, you are certain that this is what you want, I shan’t speak another word.”

Of course I’d heal it if I could, Carrot thought angrily, by making it so that none of it ever happened! “Look, I appreciate your concern, but I really don’t know what good it would do.” He clung to the protest with a desperation that startled even himself. To not be constantly plagued by memories of Cupcake, the children that had been his but weren’t, and their absence—to simply be doing something about it, anything—hadn’t been exactly comforting, but it was at least distracting. It blunted the confusion and pain, and that had to mean it was, in some way, the right thing to do. He hadn’t been able to imagine anything else after days of drowning himself in the issue, and he didn’t know how many more days of the same he could take.

“I understand,” Prudent said, voice as calm and smooth as the polished desk between them. “We are here to work with you. I apologize if I caused offense. It’s simply that your father’s spoken very highly both of you and your family over the years. I would hate for you to lose anything simply because I took to the case without question.”

That his father had talked about Carrot’s family at all was a small surprise. Surely there was too much to talk about regarding his brothers, too many of their enormous accomplishments to be proud of. Carrot had assumed when he moved to Ponyville that he would just sort of fade from the family consciousness, too small and too distant to be any bother.

“Thank you,” Carrot repeated, tucking the folder into a saddlebag and standing to leave. “But I just don’t know if there’s anything I or anyone else can do at this point.” I’m not even sure there was ever anything I could have done. Not from the beginning.

Prudent stood as well, offering a carefully sympathetic smile in place of a farewell. “Very well. Though, you might still consider speaking with someone even if you do go ahead with the divorce. This is a very traumatic time for you, and it can be difficult to pull through it alone. It is important to look out for your own mental well-being in such stressful times.”

Carrot nodded. He was tired of the conversation and eager to leave. Worse, however, was the agonizing knot that had formed in his throat at the mention of the word “divorce.” Somehow, he had gone through the entire meeting without saying it himself, and Prudent seemed aware that he should avoid the term as well. Hearing the word spoken aloud made it seem so… real. It was as if, as long as Carrot wasn’t too specific, what he was thinking of doing also remained nebulous, indistinct, and somehow safer to approach.

Am I really here? Carrot thought wearily as walked to the office door. Is this really happening? Some part of him kept hoping he would somehow wake up and find everything to be some kind of nightmare. Not even a week ago, the idea that he would be in a lawyer’s office contemplating divorce would have been beyond inconceivable—it would have been downright offensive.

He longed to go back a week and somehow prevent it all from happening. Even if it just meant he could have stayed ignorant and let Cupcake keep her horrible secret for the rest of their lives, he kept thinking he would actually choose it if he could have those lives back. He missed her. He missed the days they had spent together. Most frustrating and confusing of all, he missed Pumpkin and Pound. And having that longing coupled with the enormous, incomprehensible pain that he hadn’t been enough for her was crushing him every waking minute.

I don’t want this, he thought involuntarily, clenching his teeth as he thought of giving the papers to Cupcake. And it was true. He didn’t want to do it, neither to get some kind of justice for himself nor even as some way to fix things. He just wanted everything back the way it had been. But I can’t have that. And I can’t just pretend none of this matters. So… what else am I supposed to do?

It was the only thing he could think of. In all the years he had heard others talk about relationships, this was the only way he had heard of things ending up. This was what ponies did. And unless someone else told him otherwise, it was what he would have to do. All the other options just seemed idiotic.

He opened the door and stepped outside. In his distraction, however, he just missed the edge of the step leading down to the pavement, and he stumbled, barely catching himself before he planted his muzzle into the concrete.

That’s just what I need, he thought shakily, slowly getting all four hooves back under him and standing up straight. Breaking my nose on top of everything else falling apart.

As he rose, however, he froze. One of the docks that had been vacant that morning was now filled. Carrot’s eyes went dry and his heart seemed to seize up as he stared at it. He’s here. There was no a mistake. No one who lived or worked within a mile of Manehattan’s coast could have mistaken that ship at any distance. It had been a fixture of the port longer than anyone else could remember. Its silhouette was known to every sailor who called Manehattan home, and every market within fifty miles probably got half their goods from its hold. The old hulk of a freighter was there, dark as a phantom, and it almost seemed to loom over him as he stared at it down in the bay.

“Well, well, well.” A voice as deep as Tartarus and soft as silk broke Carrot’s reverie, and he froze where he stood. His very breath seemed to turn to ice and stick inside his lungs. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

The voice had come from right beside Carrot. If the speaker had been any closer, he would have been practically purring into his ear. The very veins in Carrot’s skin seemed to shrink and go dry with dismay. Of all the voices he had expected to hear, that voice hadn’t just been off the list; it would have been one he would have chosen to avoid, if he could. On top of the ship reappearing, this was almost too much for him to take. He’s not supposed to be here. Even if dad’s here, Dev shouldn’t be. Carrot turned and raised his eyes.

A gargantuan shadow loomed over Carrot, blocking out far more of the morning light than a living creature had any right to do. A smooth, long face looked down at him curiously from a sweeping, sinuous neck perched above shoulders lined with hard, smooth muscle. The pony’s coat was black as night, but gleamed bright as satin in the daylight. His long, billowing mane waved gently in the playful morning breeze like smoked night. His smile was wide and brilliantly white beneath golden eyes that glittered with amusement.

Carrot’s brother, Devil Cake, let out a soft laugh. “You didn’t mention little baby Carrot was coming for a visit, dad.”

Beside him, the other monster of a pony took a single step forward. Where Devil was a walking shadow, this pony was a living thunderhead. Though he stood a head and a half beneath his tall, lean son, his bulk somehow seemed to dwarf Devil. His coat, dark as pumpernickel, stretched over muscles thicker than Carrot’s legs and corded tight as ropes. A short, ragged mane as black and tortured as a steamship’s smoke sprouted from his scalp. His chin was as proud and hard as the prow of any vessel, flecked with gray stubble like the salty whitecaps of ocean waves. He was the master of the Rum Runner, the sternest sailor known to the eastern ocean, and as much a legend to the citizens of Manehattan as Granny Smith was to Ponyville… and Carrot’s father: Captain Rum Cake.

Carrot swallowed, his mind racing for something to say. Of all the places for them to find me… he wasn’t ready to talk about what had happened. He wasn’t ready to explain why he was visiting their family lawyer. He had barely been able to prepare himself to talk to his father about any of it, let alone having Devil there to witness as everything fell to pieces. But there was nothing he could change, no way he could escape now that things were in motion. Unable to think of what else to do, Carrot faced him and tried to force a smile in greeting.

For a moment, the colossal figure just stared down at Carrot, eyes as bright as flint snaring him in their grip. Held fast beneath that gaze, Carrot felt as if he shrank to the size of a dry crumb. Then, a noise like a diesel motor roaring to life shook Rum’s throat.

“Hmmmm…” His lips pulled back a little in what probably passed for a puzzled frown. He tilted his head just a degree or two lower, the better to see his small son. Then, with a silence and speed that no Earth Pony that large should have been capable of, he loomed over his son, stretched out a hoof, and laid it on Carrot’s shoulder in the gentlest touch imaginable. The old skin around his eyes crinkled in a smile as warm and mild as the morning sun.

“Welcome home, son.”

Carrot blinked rapidly. Maybe they won’t ask. I have time to think of something. Maybe Devil will leave soon, and—

Then Rum turned and looked at the lawyer’s office, and the last of Carrot’s hope drowned a cold, definitive death. Rum’s whiskers were pulled aside as his frown returned. “But what in ‘Seidon’s name are you doing here?”

* * *

Starlight let out a heavy sigh, raised a hoof, and knocked on the suite door. She only had to wait a few seconds before she heard Cupcake’s steps approaching from the other side. When the door opened, Cupcake kept the gap narrow as she looked out.

“…Yes?” Cupcake asked. Her tone was so formal, Starlight almost expected her to add, “How can I help you?” as if addressing another faceless customer at a bakery that was no longer there.

At least she isn’t slamming the door on me. “Hey,” Starlight said. “I wanted to apologize for some of the things I said earlier.” She swallowed, grimacing as Cupcake raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Or, the way I said them, rather. I let myself get carried away, and I shouldn’t have.”

Cupcake gave her a long, measuring stare. She seemed to be running through a few things in her mind. Then her gaze dropped, and she let out a tired sigh. “It’s fine. I don’t know that an apology is what I want. You said what you meant to say. I think that’s pretty clear, even if you weren’t as eloquent about it as you might have wanted.”

Again, Starlight grimaced. She didn’t know that she could argue that point. “It’s more the timing than anything else. I didn’t want to try to solve all this at once. That’s just not fair.”

“We might as well get it all out,” Cupcake sighed. “Not much point in trying to make any of it nice or pleasant. I think we’re well past trying to keep control of this train wreck.”

“Even so. I’m sorry. And I’m still happy to help with the twins or anything else you need. If nothing else, we’ve gotten it out, so there’s no need to talk about it any more for the time being.”

“That’s sweet of you, but I think I’ll be able manage on my own for a little while,” Cupcake said.

Starlight nodded. She had expected that. It would be awkward for both of them to try to carry on like nothing had happened. She expected Cupcake felt exactly the same. Still, she felt better for having offered. Perhaps it would help to mend the rift a little sooner.

“Well, you know where to find me if I can do anything,” she said with a smile, giving an unconscious glance in the direction of her rooms in the castle. “Thank you, Cupcake.” She turned to leave.

“I will try to make things better,” Cupcake said suddenly after Starlight had taken a few steps away. Starlight turned her head back to look at her, ears perked quizzically. Cupcake was still watching her from behind the door, but her shoulders were slumped. “After what you said… I didn’t… I honestly never thought about Sunburst in that way,” she explained softly. “I never really imagined he felt anything for Pumpkin. I was always looking for some other motive.”

“Didn’t he explain it when he came to you?” Starlight asked, stepping closer again. “Back before they were born, didn’t he offer to help?”

“I don’t…” Cupcake paused, her eyes roving a little as she followed some internal thread. Starlight thought she looked like she was searching hard for something. Then she gave the smallest shake of her head. “I don’t remember it that way, if he did. I doubt either of us explained ourselves very well, and… If I’m honest, I wanted him to be someone I could just push away. I think I needed him to be someone who didn’t care.”

She opened the door a little wider and took a step towards Starlight. “If he really cares about Pumpkin… Look, I’m not comfortable with it. You can understand that, right?”

Starlight gave a slow nod, biting her lip as she waited for Cupcake to continue. She clearly had more she wanted to say.

“But it’s also not like there’s a reason to keep him hidden away anymore, either. I don’t know how we’re supposed to figure out something that will work for all of us, but…” she gave Starlight a small, almost grateful-looking nod. “You’re right. It’s not right of me to say he has to disappear, or that his feelings don’t matter. I’ll… Carrot and I will try to work something out with him. Somehow.”

Starlight gave her a warm, grateful smile. “I don’t think I can say how much that means, Cupcake. And I know Sunburst will feel the same.”

Cupcake just shook her head. “I’m just so tired, Starlight. I’m tired of being some kind of monster to everyone. I just want someone to be happy again.”

Starlight frowned, then closed the last of the distance between them. Cupcake winced, but Starlight put one foreleg around her shoulder and looked her in the eye. “You’re not a monster, Cupcake. No one’s ever said that. Not even Sunburst. You were trying to protect your family. None of us knows how to fix this, alright? None of us. But we can work it out together.”

“Together,” Cupcake agreed sadly. “Once Carrot comes back.”

Starlight blinked and felt herself pull away a little. Cupcake noticed as well and asked, “What?”

Enough unsolicited opinions, Starlight. “Sorry, nothing. Just my mind running away again.”

Cupcake pulled out of the embrace and frowned at her. “Is it about Carrot? You’re not keeping something from me, are you?”

“No, no,” Starlight said, shaking her head vigorously. “It was just… I know there’s probably not much we can do right now.”

Cupcake nodded slowly. “He asked me to give him some space, so…”

“And that’s what all of us have to do, I think. But what about what you want to happen after all of this?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m just thinking, Carrot’s going to come back with some idea of what he wants to happen next. But you deserve to say what you want, too.” Starlight shrugged. “I’m sorry, it just kind of sounded like you’re waiting for him to decide for you. But if he doesn’t…”

Cupcake’s lip twitched, and she took a long, shuddering breath. “He won’t… he’ll come back. I don’t know how, but we’ll fix this. We have to.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” Cupcake said. Starlight was surprised at how quickly strength had come back to her voice. “I know it sounds like I’m just waiting for Carrot to decide something. But I’ve known what I wanted since before this all started. I want this family to be whole, Starlight. I want to raise Pumpkin and Pound, and I want to do it with Carrot. I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.”

Starlight nodded. “And… should we think about what to do if Carrot can’t move past this?”

Cupcake held Starlight’s gaze. Starlight was struck by how strong and yet fragile she looked in that moment; like a statue balanced perfectly on the edge between holding and crumbling. “If that happens, I still know what I’ll do. But I won’t let it. Not until I’ve tried everything else.”

* * *

Devil lay with curiously regal repose on the sofa, watching his brother with a tiny, amused smile. Carrot was leaning against the metal wall of the living room, staring out at the bay through a window. In the corner, the iron-bellied fireplace smoldered moodily, bringing the blackened kettle sitting on it to temperature. Rum Cake had gone to one of the nearby yards to buy and cut a new ration of firewood, something he always did when he came home for a longer stay between voyages.

“Well, it’s later.”

“Huh?” Carrot asked, twitching an annoyed ear back.

“You said, ‘I’ll explain later.’ It’s later. So. What’s brought you back to our humble little home on the shore?”

Even from where he lay, Devil could see Carrot’s lips stretch a little tighter before he answered. “Can’t we talk about something else? You guys just got back. It’s not really something I want to talk about first thing.”

“What, you want to make some small talk first?” Devil grinned. “Come on baby bro, there’s more on your mind than the weather. Must be something pretty big to make you run all the way back here.”

“Devil. I’m serious. I’ll get to it, just not right now.”

“I mean, I could take a few guesses. Let’s see, what could go wrong with your life… there isn’t a powdered sugar shortage, is there?”

“Devil. Drop it.”

Devil couldn’t help a small chuckle. It was as easy as ever to get under Carrot’s skin. When he saw the glare Carrot was throwing back at him, he shook off the last laugh and waved a defensive hoof. “Hey, no need to be like that. I was just having a little fun.”

“I know,” Carrot said shortly. He turned away and went back to staring out the window. “It’s fine, Dev.”

Devil waited a few seconds to see if Carrot would do anything else on his own. When he seemed content to just stare outside like a sick gull, Devil shrugged to himself. “Alright then, have it your way. Still. You know dad’s not going to let you off that easy. After all, it’s one thing for you to finally show up here after all this time. But you come stumbling out of our lawyer’s office like a concussed fish, he’s gonna pry a little.”

This time, Carrot didn’t take the bait. Since he wasn’t looking, Devil took the chance to frown unobserved. There was something different about Carrot’s reactions this time around. He always got angry, but there was something darker simmering under that thin skin this time. Something bitter. Devil knew he ought to back off a bit, show at least a little respect and concern. For him, however, the curiosity to know just what had set his baby brother off so badly was just too much.

“So, where is that little wife of yours?” he tried, angling for a new approach. “You didn’t come here alone, did you? I didn’t think we’d ever be able to pry you two apart as long as you were in that cozy little muffin house of yours.”

The look that Carrot shot back could have curdled chowder. Nevertheless, its potency was ruined by the broken despair hidden behind it. Devil knew that expression, or at least something like it. He’d seen it often enough. It was the face Carrot made when he or Pan Cake occasionally pushed him too far, and it always signaled he was about to run outside or to his room where he thought they wouldn’t hear him start to cry.

Sure enough, Carrot stalked out of the room, and shortly after, Devil heard the rattle of the front door slamming shut. Silence descended over the shanty.

“Ah, shit,” Devil said. He gave a remorseful sigh, leaning back into the couch until it threatened to tip over backwards. “I really am bad at this.”

* * *

The sound of the waves filled Carrot’s ears and drowned out even the distant hum of the city. He couldn’t see anything. He had buried his eyes in his hooves, and it was easy to pretend he was adrift in the vast, freezing darkness of the ocean, detached from everything but the roiling pain within. Absent all distraction, that seething mass of confusion and anger felt as tangible, thick, and nauseating as if he had swallowed some kind of acidic jelly, and it was now eating him alive from the inside out.

How long until this gets easier?

The throaty, diesel rumble sounded from somewhere just beside him. “Salt’s sake, boy. Can’t you and Devil get along for ten minutes?” The brittle wooden bench Carrot occupied sagged and splintered as Rum lowered himself down by his side. The ground seemed to shake with Rum’s shoulders as he let out a grating chuckle, slow and even as the waves. Carrot lifted his face and looked at his father through tired, bleary eyes. Rum wasn’t watching him. Instead, his attention was focused on the black steel thermos he held in his hooves. The biting smell of unsweetened, burned coffee wafted from it and over Carrot in the freezing breeze. Rum raised an eyebrow and offered the thermos to Carrot, who shook his head mutely.

“Still no taste for it, eh? Shame. It’d put more floof on that scrawny chest of yours. Mares want their stallions to have a bit of floof to ‘em.”

Carrot barked out a short, strangled laugh. “I think we’re past the point of coffee fixing things, dad.”

“Hmmm. Dunno. Coffee can fix a lot,” Rum said reverently. He tipped a massive mouthful of the oily stuff straight into his throat, then sighed appreciatively. “But you know your business.”

For awhile, they sat in silence. Rum would take a pull from the thermos every so often, and the only other sound was the restless wash of the ocean, working to eat the concrete shore away stroke by stroke. Finally, Carrot asked, “Aren’t you going to ask what’s wrong?”

“Don’t have to,” Rum grunted. He gave Carrot a quick, piercing glance. The absence of his usual, knowing grin attested to the seriousness with which he regarded his son. “You want to tell me.” He turned back to his coffee and blew on it. “So you will, when you’re ready.”

Carrot gave a short scoff and turned away. “You know so much.”

Rum didn’t reply. He just stared out to the dim, hazy horizon, steeping in the salty air while he waited for Carrot to make the next move. Yet, in spite of the invitation, Carrot found he still didn’t know how to even begin. He could feel his thoughts starting to spiral around themselves again as he tried to put some kind of story together. It’s so cold, he thought, but there was no accompanying shiver. It was just another thing his dulled senses pulled to his attention as he tried to focus on what had happened.

“Pumpkin and Pound aren’t my children,” he finally said. His voice was almost totally lifeless as he let the secret out. He glanced at Rum, watching for the cascade of signs that were sure to appear as his father processed the meanings and implications of what he had just said. Carrot watched for anger and confusion. Most of all, however, he watched for a sad spark of disappointment, the way his father would look down on him when he fully understood how Carrot had let things go so wrong.

He watched. And watched. His brow furrowed as Rum just sat there, perfectly still. The only sign he had even heard Carrot was the slight crease that had appeared between his bristling gray brows.

Carrot couldn’t take the silence. He turned back to the water and started to speak. With dull detachment, almost as if he were talking about a scene he’d watched someone else perform, he told Rum about Las Pegasus, Sunburst, and everything else he had learned. Almost as an afterthought, he mentioned how the Sugarcube Corner had burned down and set the whole disaster into its final destructive motions. Odd, how far into the background that’s faded, he thought. I really thought that was the worst disaster that could ever happen to us. Now, it’s almost like it doesn’t matter.

“I thought,” Carrot continued, following the gray ribbon of sea out to the horizon with his eyes, “that I’d found what I was looking for. I know I was never like you, or Devil, or Pan. And I know that you never… it was never the same for us like it was for them. I tried to keep up. I tried so hard. But year after year, all I could do was bake.” He gestured despondently at the sea, like he was throwing something out there to drown. “I never fit in. I know that. But when we passed through Ponyville, and we stopped at Sugarcube Corner, I thought… I thought I’d found it. Someplace I could actually do something. And she was there, and… I’d never been able to talk to anyone like that before.”

“I remember,” Rum said. He matched Carrot’s dispassionate tone, but the back of his lip was quirked in the tiniest smile. “It was a good day. Never saw a colt get twitterpated quite that easily.”

“I wasn’t twitterpated,” Carrot groused. “Well… fine, maybe a little. But things here never really felt the same after that. Just baking for no one while you and Devil were out at sea, and Pan was down in his mines. I didn’t… I didn’t have you guys the way you had each other, and I didn’t have anyone else, either.”

“Aye. It’s a hard truth,” Rum sighed. “Don’t think I didn’t know how lonesome you got. Truth is, I was right pleased when you started writing back to her after that day, and you may lay to that. It was good to see you find someone you could share your work with.”

Carrot glanced at his father, slightly surprised. Then he looked down again, the gloom rolling back in like a choking fog. “But… it was all foolishness after all, wasn’t it? Devil and Pan were right. I went after a soft career because I thought I could just be happy there, but it was all a lie.”

“T’weren’t all a lie,” Rum argued, raising a brow at Carrot. “Couldn’t have been.”

Carrot spread his forelegs out bemusedly. “Well, look where it all ended up. Can’t have much more solid proof than that, can I? I chose wrong, and this is the result.”

“Hm. And what’ll you do about it, now that you’ve had such an epiphany?” Rum seemed to spit out the last word a little.

“What else can I do?” Carrot replied quietly. “I’ve made mistakes, and now I have to fix them. I thought I’d found a way to get around the rules. I thought I’d found a way to get by without being strong like Devil or Pan.” Or you. “So, if that’s the way things are, maybe it’s time I finally woke up to it, right? Time to shut the door on Ponyville and everything I thought I could get away with. I’ll come back here, find some work more fitting for an Earth Pony, and maybe then I can get by for real this time.” That’s what you would do, right? This is the right choice for ponies like us. I just have to do it.

Rum rolled his jaw, grinding his enormous teeth around as if he could chew his way through his thoughts. “What about your family?” he finally asked.

“…I don’t have a family,” Carrot said. Even to himself, it sounded like he was reciting an answer in school, one he wasn’t sure he remembered correctly. “I have a wife I wasn’t good enough for, and foals that aren’t mine.”

“So, you want them gone, then,” Rum said matter-of-factly.

“I...” Carrot’s voice shriveled away before he realized it was happening. “I don’t... it’s not that simple.”

Rum gave him another hard, penetrating stare. Once again, Carrot felt that his father was seeing more than he wanted him to, making him feel like a little colt caught in a lie. “It’s only that If I’m waking up to things, maybe one of them is that ponies like me shouldn’t have families at all,” he offered.

“The hay do you mean, ponies like you?”

Carrot opened his mouth to answer, but it was like trying to bite the air. There just wasn’t anything there when he reached for it. Of all the disastrous failings he had bared, he had kept that one final bit of brokenness buried. That, above all, he had tried to forget, to protect. He couldn’t tell anyone he couldn’t have foals, and he certainly couldn’t tell it to his father. If he could just keep that one fracture plastered over, he could find a way to be strong enough in all the other ways. He could still find some place with ponies strong enough to deal with their own problems.

When Carrot didn’t answer, Rum huffed in annoyance. “ ‘Seidon’s kelpy beard, boy. How long have these ideas been twisting you up inside?”

Carrot snapped out of his reverie. “What ideas?”

“Never been like your brothers. ‘Never the same for us like it was for them.’ Treating all this like some manner o’ grand punishment for being who you are.” Rum scowled and downed a huge gulp of the coffee. Then he stared down into its dark depths, his shoulders sagging. Carrot blinked in surprise. He could only remember a few times in his life when Rum had looked so… sad. “Suppose there’s only one pony to blame for that, aye?”

“Blame for what?” Carrot asked.

Rum drained the thermos and set it down. “Tartarus. I thought you grew out of this foolishness. You always did talk too much about how ponies ‘ought to be’ and ‘what they ought to do.’ What I never could figure out was who you thought was writing all the rules. Still, I suppose I should have seen better, oughtn’t I? Your brothers…” Rum shook his head. “They always did tease you for a runt. I knew enough to stop them short sometimes, but maybe never enough. Never could tell when you were in on the fun, and when it was punching a hole in your hull. Probably more often than I’d like to guess.”

He turned and laid his hoof on Carrot’s shoulder again, the same as he had when he had first spotted Carrot outside Prudent’s office. Even his gentlest touch made Carrot’s whole body sag a little. “Son, if you’ve lived in doubt of your worth all these years, that fault lies square with me. I’ll own that, if I have to. Before the lady of the tides, I will. But now, you listen to me, aye? You’re as solid a lad as either of your brothers, and when these old bones lie beneath the grass, or beneath the waves, you can bet your boots my eternal smile’s a content one, knowing all three of you turned out exactly the way you did.”

“That…” Carrot breathed out a shaky, angry laugh. Something inside felt like a hole had been punched through it, and a slew of emotions threatened to overwhelm him again. “What are you talking about? I’m not…”

“Not like them?” Rum repeated. “You’re their equal in every way that matters, boy.” He took his hoof away and returned to his sea-gazing posture, but his shoulders remained hunched. He looked suddenly much smaller than Carrot thought he could have. “Aye, you had a hard time of it, growing up the way things were. It’s true enough that I never could quite work out how to get on with you the way I could with Pan and Devil. If there’s one thing I always wished I could work out better, every damn day, it was that. Still. Time went on, and you learned to manage for yourself in a way none of the rest of us quite did. I suppose I took that as a sign you were doing alright.”

“You… I just assumed… I thought you didn’t want to talk to me,” Carrot said. He was barely able to get the words out. “I thought you were disappointed.”

“Not for a damn minute,” Rum replied, his voice sodden with regret. “Cripes, boy, couldn’t you see that?”

“But how?” Carrot demanded. “They grew up the way they were supposed to! They got even bigger and stronger than you! And I… didn’t.”

“I was never proud of them because they grew up bigger and stronger than me,” Rum countered. “I was proud of them because they followed their hearts, and they gave it their all. Same as you, boy. Same as you. You followed your talent with more dogged determination than most colts I’ve had before the mast. And when you found yourself a home you could love and a mare you adored, and you worked your way into a life that pleased you, well, I swear it by the moon and the sea, my heart never cried out for honest joy like it did that day for you.”

He paused, then rubbed a hoof over the sandpaper scruff of his chin, staring at the ceiling thoughtfully. “Of course, you’re right that I never cheered in your bakery like I did at your brothers’ games. I mean, it seemed inappropriate.”

Carrot couldn’t help but give a weak chuckle at that. “Okay, yeah, please don’t ever do that.”

Rum roared out another rasping laugh that shook Carrot to his bones, then clapped a hoof down on his back so hard it blew the breath clear out of his lungs. “Then what are you complaining about? Either envy your brothers their cheers or don’t!” He laughed again, but then he gave Carrot a long, sad smile. “Aye. You’re father’s a horrible old colt, isn’t he? Nopony knows better than you I never learned to say a word to honest feelings, except in jest. But they are honest words, my boy, and you may lay to that.”

Carrot didn’t know how to reply to that. Even as much as he wanted to take in his father’s words, the crushing weight of grief wouldn’t allow him a moment of it. “Still,” he said, the last gasp of the laugh fading from his face, “it doesn’t change the fact that it’s over now. And I have nothing left.”

His father didn’t say anything to that for a moment. Carrot could hear him breathing, a slow and deep cadence in perfect rhythm with the waves below them.

“Carrot,” he said, and Carrot jumped. He almost never heard his father say his name. “Think about when we lost Pumpkin.”

Carrot felt his heart twist in a painful jolt. No, not that Pumpkin, he thought next. Pumpkin Spice. Mom.

“Never thought we’d come back from that. Any of us,” Rum said quietly. “Hit Devil especially hard. Stupid idiot almost got himself expelled beating up other ponies after that, you remember?”

“I don’t think I could forget,” Carrot said, confused. He touched his nose lightly and winced at the memory of pain. “I was one of his favorite targets.” He looked at Rum, frowning deeply as he thought back to those times, to the hours and days they spent in Prudent’s office. They had waited, not saying a word to each other, while Rum sorted out the funeral arrangements and tried to work through Pumpkin’s complicated estate. Her parents had their own ideas about what should happen, and she had never written a will. She and Rum had still been so young. Neither of them expected to get caught out at sea in a storm like the one that had taken her.

Carrot glanced down at the coffee. “I remember you taking longer than Devil to come back to us, though.”

Rum nodded slowly. He pursed his lips, looking like he was having trouble figuring out what he wanted to say next. “Look, Carrot. You know your business. You’re a grown colt, and you know how to chart your own course. I’m not the pony to come to for advice. You know that better than anypony alive. But…” He turned and gave Carrot another hard, serious gaze. “Do me one little favor, aye? You do what you think is right. But you think long and hard before you do it, you hear me?”

“I want to do the right thing,” Carrot said, almost automatically. “That’s why I went to Prudent’s office.”

“Is it the right thing, boy?”

“It’s… isn’t it the only thing?”

Rum didn’t seem to have a clear answer to that. It was some time before he spoke again. “After you started visiting Ponyville more regularly, I thought I got a decent idea of that mare. I said to myself, ‘there’s someone who’ll treat little Carrot right.’ The only time I ever saw somepony look at anypony with more affection than how you looked at her… was how she looked at you.” He shrugged. “Hearts change. ‘Seidon knows I’ve seen it happen often enough. What you need to be asking is whether that’s what’s happened. Whether her heart’s turned from you. Or yours from her.”

Carrot blinked incredulously. “She cheated on me. How could her heart not have changed?” How could it not have changed after what she found out about me?

“That’s for you to decide. If you know she doesn’t care about you anymore, or that you can’t care about her, then Prudent’s a good pony. There’s no one I’d trust more to help you get through this. But Cup struck me as a good, solid little lady. I wouldn’t have ever thought it of her to go running behind your back like that.”

“I wouldn’t have thought it either.”

“So. Maybe there’s a chance there’s more to the story,” Rum said. “You said yourself she came to you to try to fix things.”

“Only because she was scared about being found out anyway,” Carrot said bitterly.

“Even so. Suggests to me she still wants you around, at least. If she wanted to be rid of you, I can’t quite see her going to all this trouble, and you may lay to that. ”

“Well, so what? How does it change what I need to do? All I want is to do the right thing, and this is the only thing I can think of!”

“There is no ‘right thing,’ boy,” Rum growled. “There never is. There’s no easy answer for you. Maybe Cupcake isn’t the pony you thought she was. Maybe she made a mistake and wants more than anything to make it right. Maybe the answer’s somewhere in between. And maybe none of it matters, and you need her gone regardless.”

“Then why tell me this? Why bother about any of this? What does it matter what choice I make?”

Rum watched Carrot for a few seconds, then turned away. His eyes were narrowed, but he didn’t seem angry. He seemed, more than anything, frustrated that he wasn’t getting something across as clearly as he wanted to. “It matters because it’s your happiness on the line as much as hers. It matters because what you want matters. If she’s not the pony for you anymore, then you’ll be happier cutting her loose.” Then, he once again seemed to slouch and grow a little smaller, a little older. As before, Carrot could only think of a few times he had ever looked so sad. It was how he had often looked on the dark, quiet nights following the storm. “But don’t set the course rashly, Carrot. Once the pony you care about is gone… they’re gone. And lay to it, that’s a loneliness you carry for the rest of your life.”

He gave the thermos an idle shake, as if he couldn’t remember whether it was empty or not. He sighed when it didn’t make a sound. “Don’t make that choice because you think it’s what ‘ponies like you’ ought to do.”

Chapter 14 - Unexpected Confidant

Devil took a deep breath and examined the old door in front of him. A bitter distaste for the situation was warring inside him against a gnawing guilt, and he knew there was only one way to fix it. It wasn’t even that hard—at least, in his head. The problem was that knowing what he wanted to say and actually getting the right words in order to say it were, in his experience, two entirely different things. Still. He knew what would be waiting for him if he didn’t find a way to pull it off.

Grimacing both at the thought of slogging through the next few minutes and at the prospect of failure, Devil lifted a hoof and nudged the door open as gently as he could. Carrot was sitting on his small bed, and for a moment, he didn’t seem to realize that Devil had come in. He remained lost in thought for a few more seconds before he blinked and glanced over at Devil.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Carrot said, his expression cautious.

“Um... look,” Devil said. “Dad told me to back off. Said you had some serious shit to work through. And... Guess I wanted to say I’m sorry for pushing you around the other day. I was just messing with you.”

Carrot smiled, and Devil was surprised to see how exhausted he looked. Even growing up, his brother had never looked quite so thin. “I know. It’s fine, Dev.”

“No, it’s not,” Devil forced out, looking away. “I mean, I know you and I don’t... we don't get along well... or... at all, really. And I can be kind of an idiot sometimes. But you know...” He worked his teeth silently for a moment, then turned back and fixed Carrot in a hard glare. “If anyone’s hurting you... You give me names, and I’ll take ’em down to Tartarus myself.”

Carrot’s smile widened, and then he broke down in a hollow, halting chuckle. “I think setting you on anyone’s case is a little extreme, even now. But thanks, Dev. I appreciate it.”

“I'm serious,” Devil said, puffing up and relaxing now that the awkward part was out of the way. “You’re my little brother. I’ll always have your back. ...At least, whenever it actually matters.”

“I know.” Carrot looked back up and gave his brother a knowing grin. “But only when it matters. So if you keep this nice-guy act up, I’ll get suspicious of you.”

“Don’t worry,” Devil laughed. “It won’t happen often. Anyway, dad and I are heading out. You gonna join us or not?”

* * *

“You’re starting to be a regular sight around here,” McSoarley said. He slid a thick, heavy glass from his silver wing to the bar, filled to the brim with ale as thick and black as oil. “You making your start in this city?”

Sunburst wrapped his hoof through the glass’ wide handle and pulled it towards him. “Not exactly. More like getting away from a few things for awhile. Trying to figure it all out.”

“Ah,” McSoarley said. With a sweep of his wings, he waved a few empty glasses off the bar, seemingly making them vanish until they reappeared in a bin behind him. “And you picked Manehattan for that? Odd choice.” He chewed his lip thoughtfully, giving a meaningful glance around the small bar, as if he could see the whole of the city through the walls. “You want to be careful in a big city like this. It’s not kind to ponies just trying to find their way. You got to know what you’re looking for, or it tends to just kind of swallow you up.” He gave a derisive snort. “Plus, the rent’s Tartarian.”

“I was looking for something,” Sunburst said. “But it didn’t turn out the way I wanted.”

“Ah, well, that happens too. What’s next then?”

“That’s what I’m waiting to find out,” Sunburst replied with a shrug. He took a short sip from the glass, mostly drinking off the thick, sweet foam until the colder ale beneath it pulled through. It smelled like charred wood and tasted of smoke, sweet grain, and an undercurrent of bitterness lingering beneath a warm, pleasant vein of vanilla. It was a world removed from the thin, watery beers he remembered sampling with his classmates at CSGU, and he was surprised to find he was starting to prefer it over the usual rainbow of cocktails he’d ordered at bars before. “I’ve come all this way. Figured I’d wander around and at least see a new city before heading home again.”

“Home,” McSoarley sighed. He gave a wry smile. “Now there’s a loaded word, isn’t it? But where’s home for you now?”

“The Crystal Empire,”

McSoarley whistled appreciatively. “You are out of your way, aren’t you? Family there?”

“No. Friends, yes. But no family.”

McSoarley shrugged. “Sometimes friends are family. Blood isn’t always as good a tie as it ought to be.” The door opened, and a freezing wind followed several large ponies in as they squeezed their way through the door. “Oho. Speaking of family, I got me a whole gaggle of regulars I need to welcome.”

Sunburst waved the barkeep off with a nod. Sometimes friends are family… sometimes. He thought of Cadence and Shining Armor. They really had almost become a surrogate family to him as time had gone on. But then he thought of Flurry, of how he couldn’t look at her without wondering what it would be like to raise Pumpkin, his own true daughter, and the warm feelings drowned in a cold tide of ice. But sometimes, you can’t have the family you want. Even if you’d give anything for it.

He pulled his cloak a little closer around him to ward off the invading chill, and gave the bar a casual glance as he nursed the ale. After his disastrous meeting with Hoops, he had decided there wasn’t much point to returning to the Empire immediately. He had planned to be away for several days anyway, and going back would just force him to brood on everything he had done wrong.

So he had extended his stay instead and wandered the city, exploring its libraries and galleries in the hope of clearing his mind a little. It had even worked to some extent, much to his relief. Along the way, he stumbled across a few mentions of this place, McSoarley’s Old Ale House, as a local institution and historical icon. Sunburst wasn’t much for any kind of drink at the best of times, but the location and its history had intrigued him, so he had wandered in one cold night to see what the fuss was about.

Since then, he had returned several times. While the new experiences of Manehattan were welcome distractions, he found the ale house a surprisingly good venue to simply exist quietly. The old, tiny rooms were kept warm and cozy by the old pot-bellied stove standing in the middle of it all, and though the omnipresent grime and grit of Manehattan was present in every window and surface of the bar, McSoarley seemed to have integrated it into part of the decor and soul of the place. Most of the polish had faded from the wooden bar and ceiling, and the whitewashed walls were gray with age. They were also covered in bric-a-brac that seemed to have accumulated from every corner of Manehattan, like the bar was a kind of dust trap for wayward and forgotten bits of the city itself. But it was warm and bright, and McSoarley’s wry smile and friendly manner seemed to give the ale a character that had nothing to do with its ingredients, and could never be replicated elsewhere.

All in all, Sunburst had found it a remarkably comfortable spot to spend several evenings. Here, it seemed, he was a world away from Ponyville, his mistakes, and all the failures that had followed him through life. Here, he was just another bit of curious flotsam passing through this small corner of the city until it moved on without him.

It was nice, in that sense, to be allowed to be unimportant.

“Almost never see that lot together,” McSoarley said casually, wandering behind the bar again. “The old father’s almost always at sea, and his boys all went and grew up when none of us were looking. Good to see they’ve found a bit of time to spend together.”

Sunburst gave another glance at the newcomers, now huddled together around a table by the stove. He could see two of them clearly, though he thought there might be a third behind them. They certainly seemed like the seafaring type, especially the huge, brown Earth Pony nearest the fire. Sunburst thought he looked like the type who broke storms rather than got chased away by them. Then he turned back to his drink. “You probably have a lot of regulars in a place like this.”

McSoarley shrugged. “It’s a good mix. We get a lot of tourists who come looking through the oldest pubs in the city, that sort of thing. The real locals know when the quieter hours are and come then. That’s why I thought you might be settling in. You dodge the crazier hours with precision our best curmudgeons would envy.”

Sunburst had to laugh at that. “I’ve never been one for loud scenes, no.”

“Well, whatever magic you work, just keep it up, and you’ll always have a peaceful spot here.”

“Hey, McSoarley?”

“Carrot!” McSoarley said, turning to beam at the speaker who stepped right up beside Sunburst. “Was wondering if you were going to be hiding behind your brother all night. You’ll be getting something for yourself after all, then?”

Sunburst’s blood ran cold. Belatedly, he realized he was gripping his glass so hard, it felt like the handle would snap off at any moment. Slowly, he turned his head to face the newcomer.

“Just a half measure of the dark ale,” Carrot Cake said. “And dad asked if you’d keep an eye on Devil’s tab. We don’t want him…”

Sunburst saw Carrot catch sight of him. The smaller Earth Pony’s mouth froze mid-sentence, and his eye spun to lock onto Sunburst’s with the frightened intensity of a startled deer. Then, in the time it took for a log to snap in the fire behind them, surprise turned to fury.

“What,” Carrot asked, turning to face Sunburst with the dark, swelling hatred of a blizzard twisting every line of his face, “the fuck are you doing here?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Sunburst could see McSoarley’s jaw drop. After a few seconds, the glass he was filling at the tap overflowed, and he came back to awareness with a jolt as the black liquid spilled over his hoof. Sunburst couldn’t edge away without toppling the chair he sat on, but he still managed to lean back and shrink into his cloak as Carrot’s eyes glittered like daggers.

“Is this for real?” Carrot continued. He was staring at Sunburst as if he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. “Was wrecking everything I ever had in Ponyville not enough? Was there more you could do by following me?”

“I didn’t even know you were here!” Sunburst protested, now pulled as far back from Carrot as he could go without falling. “Well, I suppose I knew you were in the city, but the odds of running into you— Listen, I swear, I wasn’t trying—”

“Lads,” McSoarley said. His voice had taken a grim edge Sunburst hadn’t heard from him yet. “Seems like there’s some bad blood between the two of you. However—”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Carrot growled.

“Maybe I should just go,” Sunburst squeaked.

“Is something wrong here?”

Sunburst’s eyes flicked to the deep, gravelly voice that had just spoken, and he felt what little color he had left drain from his face. The enormous, craggy sailor had risen and approached the bar, and he was now frowning down at the two of them with a quiet menace that could send soldiers fleeing.

“You know this pony, baby bro?” Somehow, the other stallion had approached with utmost silence, and Sunburst hadn’t even noticed him until he stood right beside him. He was tall and lean as death incarnate, and his golden eyes were the only spots of color in what otherwise seemed to be a living, breathing shadow. He was looking down at Sunburst with an expression that was both quizzical and eerily eager. He looked like nothing would make him happier than for Carrot to say there was trouble of some sort.

Baby bro? Sunburst thought, his mental voice as small and meek as a mouse. This… this is Carrot’s family?

This is where I die.

As his breath grew thin and he felt the threat of a faint approaching, however, he held onto awareness just long enough to see Carrot suddenly deflate. “No, dad, nothing’s wrong. You guys head on back.”

Sunburst had never felt so nonplussed in his life. The massive, older pony, apparently Carrot’s father, only narrowed his eyes and focused his stare on Sunburst. Sunburst met those glittering, gold eyes, a perfect match for those of the dark pony standing at his back, feeling his pupils shrink to pinpricks. He swallowed a large, hard lump of pure fear as he waited for the mountain of muscle to act.

“Hmmmmmm…” His face was still as stone as he kept his eyes on Sunburst. For his part, Sunburst did his utmost to keep from quailing. He had the uncanny sense that this pony was putting more pieces together about him than Sunburst would ever want. Beside him, the dark pony simply stood and watched, cool as ice, like an enormous cat waiting for something interesting to happen. Then, Carrot’s father let out a slow, thin sigh and stepped back. “If you say so.” He turned to Carrot’s brother. “Come on, Dev. It’s warmer in the back room.”

“Huh?” The brother glanced around between the gathered ponies, confusion and a bit of disappointment plain to see. “What are you talking about? The stove’s out here.”

“Warmer. In the back.” Without another word, the older pony stepped through the narrow door in front of the bar and disappeared into the pub’s second room. The one he had called Dev gave Carrot and Sunburst another glance, let out the softest hrmph of annoyance, and followed his father out of sight. Slow as molasses, McSoarley set Carrot’s glass on the bar in front of him.

“You two’ll be good,” he said in that same stony voice, “or you’ll be gone. You need to settle anything, you take it outside. Last thing I need in this city is to ban Captain Rum Cake’s son from my house. You hear me, lad?”

“Yeah,” Carrot breathed. “It’s fine, it’s just… fine.”

McSoarley nodded and stepped out of earshot, though he kept one eye firmly trained on the pair of them. Sunburst watched Carrot with ever-mounting bewilderment. His anger had gone out in the space of a heartbeat, as suddenly as a firefly being crushed underhoof. Now, he sat wilted and small at the bar, head hung beneath a limp, disheveled mane. His very limbs seemed to have shrunken and grown a little thinner, and Sunburst almost thought he had turned a few shades grayer, like the Crystal Ponies when bereft of their usual brilliance and cheer. What sat before him now, he realized, was a pony hanging on the thinnest of threads. He didn’t have enough left in him even to sustain a righteous rage.

Slowly, Sunburst edged back to a comfortable posture beside Carrot. He marveled that his glass of ale was still in one piece. I’m lucky I’m still in one piece. “I had no idea you were here,” he repeated softly.

“I know,” Carrot said. Even his voice sounded like a husk of what it had. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… it doesn’t matter.” He shifted, and Sunburst thought he was about to get up and join his family in the back.

“Wait,” Sunburst said, not knowing why he said anything at all. Carrot paused. “I just want you to know… I can’t be sorry enough for what happened. For all of it. I can’t ever begin to make up for it.”

“…No. I suppose that’s true. You can’t.” The words were said without the malice they ought to have carried. Carrot didn’t even glare. He just stared down at the worn wood lifelessly. “Still. It’s not even completely your fault, is it? Otherwise, I could hate you like I want to.”

“It’s not really Cupcake’s fault either,” Sunburst said carefully. “You shouldn’t let these feelings settle on her.”

“I don’t hate Cupcake,” he said, and Sunburst found he could believe him. What Carrot said next, however, made Sunburst frown in puzzlement. “I hate myself.”

“That’s… not really fair,” Sunburst said, unsure of how consoling he should try to sound. “We made some horrible mistakes, but... if anyone deserves to be hated, it is me.”

“You, for doing what most stupid stallions would do? Yeah. I guess. But I’m the one who should have been there.” Carrot stared down into the ale. The foam had dissolved, and his face was clearly reflected in the still, coffee-black surface. “I’m the one who should’ve given Cupcake the family she wanted. I had six years to do it. But it was beyond me the whole time. If it wasn’t for me being such a… none of this would have happened. So, I don’t know how much I can really hate anyone else.”

“You can’t blame yourself,” Sunburst said. “This… even if you could have changed things… we all share the blame. But we won’t fix this if that’s all we focus on.”

“There’s nothing to fix. Everything I ever tried to build has fallen apart. If I ever even had any of it. All that’s left is to throw away the pieces.”

“What… what are you talking about?”

Carrot was silent for awhile. “I think I have to leave Cupcake. I came here to think about everything, and… now I have. It’s just a matter of time until I have to go to Ponyville, and… finish everything.”

Sunburst gaped at Carrot in horror. A black well of dismay opened up inside him, and he nearly panicked on the spot. “What? No! You can’t do that! She needs you, she loves you! She always has! You can’t just give up like this!”

“What else is there to do?”

Sunburst mouthed silently for a few moments, trying to put some form of resistance together. “Fix things!” he finally demanded feebly.

“Fix…! Fix! Everypony keeps saying ‘fix!’ ” Carrot said, his voice finally rising. The anger was slowly kindling to life again. “I don’t know how, alright? I don’t know how to fix promises broken this badly, or ponies who don’t love each other, or… whatever else in Tartarus I’m supposed to ‘fix!’ It’s all broken, so just leave it already!”

“You don’t… you don’t love her anymore?”

Sunburst couldn’t even begin to guess at what emotion could twist Carrot’s features the way they contorted then. To hide it, Carrot took such a massive gulp of the ale that he nearly choked on it. “It’s not my love that’s the problem,” he spluttered.

“Then it’s hers?” Sunburst said. “Carrot, if that’s in any doubt, then please, listen to me if not her—she has never once stopped loving you. This whole time, she’s been desperate to keep this secret because she was terrified of losing you! She practically banished me to the frozen north to try to keep from losing you! You mean the world to her, Carrot!”

“What does it matter to you?” Carrot asked, venom dripping from his words. “Haven’t you gotten what you wanted? It’s over. Nothing’s in your way now. You can have Pumpkin or whatever it is you were after.”

“I never wanted it like this,” Sunburst pleaded. “Never. That’s why I stayed away. And I still will, if that’s what it takes. Cupcake loves you. And I’d rather Pumpkin grow up with a mother and father who love her, and each other, than have a… a father like me. Someone who loves her, but tore her family apart.” Sunburst tried to get Carrot to meet his eyes, to see the true, desperate emotion he was pouring into his words. “I would disappear forever, if I thought it would help anything.”

At the very least, something in Sunburst’s words seemed to have cooled Carrot’s anger. “…Why?” he finally asked, his voice almost back to its lifeless, hopeless tone. “Why would you do something like that?”

“Wouldn’t you have?” Sunburst asked. “Before all of this happened, when Pumpkin was still just your daughter, wouldn’t you have done anything for her to have a good life?”

Carrot looked at him, his eyes almost gray in the weak light. They were almost totally empty. The only sign of hope Sunburst saw was a flicker of confusion. Carrot hadn’t expected a question like that. “I…”

Sunburst turned away. His jaw was set with resolution, and his eyes had gone hard. “I know what my mistake was this whole time. I couldn’t get past what I wanted. And I wanted to see Pumpkin. I wanted it so badly, there were nights when I couldn’t imagine facing the next day, knowing I would never know anything about her. I couldn’t take it. So, I started trying to fix all this. I meddled and I investigated, and I brought all this to a breaking point.”

He lifted a hoof and buried his face in it, as if he could push the shame and guilt out of the very muscles beneath his skin. “Cupcake was right to be so scared. And this… this is all my fault. My daughter’s family is…” He looked up, begging Carrot with his eyes to give some sign, any sign, that not everything was lost for good. “Isn’t there any part of you that still loves them? You had something real with Cupcake. Can’t you have it again?”

“I…” Carrot looked as though he didn’t know which way was up any longer. He almost looked like he barely knew where he was anymore, or who he was talking to. Then, he seemed to come back to himself, and the gray blanket of apathy threatened to settle over him one again. “What we had couldn’t have been real. Not completely. This didn’t end with you meddling in everything. This ended back before the twins were even conceived.”

Sunburst couldn’t believe his ears. He shook his head. “How?”

Carrot shrugged. “Cupcake always wanted a family of her own. I did, too. But I couldn’t give her that. I can never give her that.” He looked at Sunburst, and Sunburst thought he could see a barrier go up in Carrot’s eyes. Before it could harden completely, though, something inside the other pony seemed to break. He looked away, and Sunburst thought he was almost passed caring about anything at all. “I can’t have foals. At all. With anyone. She ever tell you that?”

“…oh…” Sunburst breathed. Carrot gave a bitter smile, empty of any happiness.

“Yeah. They told me just before she went to Las Pegasus. That’s why I wasn’t there. I was supposed to go, but…” He drained nearly half his glass in one long draught. “Do you have any idea how happy I was when she told me she was pregnant? When the doctors told me I couldn’t… I thought our marriage might be over, all the way back then. And then, suddenly, we had children. It fixed everything, Sunburst. I wasn’t scared she would leave to find a stronger stallion, and I didn’t have to be stronger. I wasn’t broken anymore.”

He looked at Sunburst, scowled in disgust, and gestured vaguely at him, as if he could wave him away like so much mist. “And then… you showed up. And it was all a lie.” He turned away, lifted his glass, but lowered it without taking another drink. He looked sick. “Someone as weak as me will never get to have a family. So I’ll just learn to live without.”

For a moment, Sunburst just stared at Carrot. The other pony seemed to wilt even more, the ultimate figure of resignation and despair.

Sunburst couldn’t understand why, but he was suddenly angry, of all things. He felt his face screw up into a scowl, and it took all his effort to temper it back into a shaky frown.

“Hey. You know I barely know you. But surely you can hear how stupid that sounds, right?”

Carrot blinked, but didn’t look at him. “It doesn’t matter what you think.”

“Then you won’t care if I keep talking.” Sunburst said flippantly. He couldn’t help a twisted grin. “Shows you really don’t get just how much trouble you’re in, doesn’t it? But let me ask you something, Carrot. Think of how you were back then, before all these horrible things happened. Now let’s imagine your roles got reversed, huh? So tell me. Would you have divorced Cupcake if you found out she couldn’t have foals?”

“What… no! Of course not,” Carrot said. The words roused him just enough to let him throw a disgusted frown at Sunburst.

“Thank Celestia. If you were that kind of pony, McSoarley really would have to kick me out,” Sunburst replied. “So why the hay are you putting that kind of weight on yourself, then?”

“It’s… different,” Carrot said, and Sunburst saw him glance at the back room where his family had disappeared. Sunburst thought a few more pieces clicked into place at that point. “We’re stallions, we’re supposed to be…”

“You talk a lot about the way things are ‘supposed’ to be,” Sunburst grumbled. “Who the hay said you have to be huge and strong, just because you’re an Earth Pony? Who said you have to be some kind of perfect, shining icon of masculinity?”

Carrot didn’t say anything to that. He seemed to be thinking through something, and he glanced again at the back room. Sunburst took it as a sign to continue. “You’re not the only pony this has happened to, Carrot.”

Carrot turned back to glower at him. “You can’t tell me we’re the same. Pumpkin’s your daughter after all, isn’t she?”

“Maybe not exactly the same,” Sunburst countered, “but you’re not the only pony who doesn’t fit into the mold he thought he should have.” He found his gaze wandering as he thought back to that night where all their paths had crossed. “It’s practically how it started for me, too. I was in Las Pegasus all those years ago because I had just flunked out of Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns.”

“…flunked?” Carrot frowned in confusion. “I thought Cupcake said you were the Crystal Empire’s grand wizard or something.”

“Court wizard,” Sunburst corrected. “And I am.”

Carrot snorted in disgust. “So, doesn’t really matter then, does it? You were probably one of those genius types that never adapted to schoolwork or some rubbish like that.”

“Definitely not a genius type. And no. It was because I couldn’t cast any of the spells they tried to teach me.” Sunburst drained the last of his ale. “I can handle basic levitation spells with some effort. I managed to get a few tricks working in school, and my professors managed to hammer in a defensive immobilizing spell after years of practice. But I hit my limit after that. Anything more complicated is almost always beyond me. So, I got kicked out. Most Unicorns can at least take magic a few levels beyond their focused talent, but I’m borderline crippled. Just about every Unicorn in magic kindergarten is more powerful than I am.” He gave Carrot a bitter smile. “How’s that for a very important pony, huh? A court wizard who can’t even cast a basic shield spell.”

“Then how the hay are you a court wizard?”

“I’m good with books. And learning, and remembering. But that’s about it. I know a lot about magic, but I can’t do any of it. So I’m more of a consulting wizard for the Empire than a conjuring one, if that makes sense.” Sunburst shrugged. “It took me a long time. But eventually, I managed to find a place where the things I could do helped other ponies. A place like your bakery, say.” Once again, Carrot didn’t respond. “We all have our strengths, Carrot. And we all have our weaknesses, too. There’s always something we can’t do. We don’t deserve to be damned because of that.”

“You’re just full of sympathetic stories, aren’t you?” Carrot groused. He couldn’t put much malice into the words, though. He sounded too uncertain. “But what does any of this have to do with Cupcake?”

“I’m just saying, don’t assume you’re worthless to her because you can’t have foals. Frankly, you’re not allowed to put words in her mouth like that.”

“Now you’re telling me how to respect my wife?”

“Am I wrong?” Sunburst countered. “Honestly, Carrot, if you were any other pony, and our relationship were a little less… awful… I’d say you can build a perfectly good family no matter what went wrong. But you already have a full family waiting for you back home.”

“They’re not… they’re not family,” Carrot protested weakly. “They’re your foals, and some other idiot’s. Not mine.”

“You’re as much their father as anyone on this earth, Carrot,” Sunburst urged. “You’re the one who’s been there for them and looked out for them all this time. You know them. And I’ll be damned to Tartarus if, after you brought them home, you didn’t love them like they were your own.”

“I… I did.”

“And has that really changed?” Sunburst asked. “Even if things are too broken between you and Cupcake… Pumpkin and Pound don’t deserve your hatred, do they? Aren’t they still the same foals you loved, for whatever reason?”

Once again, Carrot looked like he was losing focus. He blinked and looked around, as if trying to remember what he was doing. “Why are you talking to me? What do you even want?”

“I want…” Sunburst stopped, realizing he wasn’t sure of the answer. He let out a tiny, broken laugh. “I don’t know what I want. I really don’t. But I know what I don’t want. I don’t want to see your family fall apart.”

“Isn’t it a little late for that?” Carrot asked, giving his own bitter chuckle. It died away, however, when Sunburst met his eyes with a look of determined pleading.

“It doesn’t have to be. Look. Maybe this all really is just too much. We can’t pretend none of it happened, I know that. But why don’t you come back to Ponyville with me? Come back and just… try to remember why you were there in the first place. You had a reason to love Cupcake, and Pumpkin and Pound too. Come back and see if any of that is still real to you.”

Carrot stared long and hard at Sunburst. “And if it isn’t?”

“Then you haven’t lost anything. You can still make your decision. But don’t make it here. Don’t make it when all you have is this horrible story Cupcake and I left you with.”

Carrot was silent for a long time. McSoarley was still keeping an eye on them, but otherwise gave no sign he had heard a single word of what had passed between them. Carrot’s father and brother remained hidden in the other room, content to let Carrot sort the matter out himself. Carrot glanced at the door they had disappeared through, and seemed to be thinking something over. Most likely, Sunburst thought, he was deciding whether or not to rejoin his family, or else maybe he was thinking about calling them back in and letting them tear Sunburst apart after all.

Sunburst bit his lower lip and examined his empty glass. Thin rivulets of warm ale still smeared the inner walls. What’s one more failure to add onto everything else? At least this time, it feels like I said the right things for the right reasons.

“You’re not what I expected, I’ll give you that much,” Carrot said softly. “Why do you even care if what Cupcake and I had is gone? Who the hay even are you?”

Sunburst laughed and pushed his empty glass away. “If it really comes down to it, no one worth knowing, I think. Just a busybody who should’ve kept his nose in books where it belonged.”

Carrot gave a long, heavy sigh, then drained his own glass. He set it down with a thud, then stared at it with mild disappointment. “Fine. I need to go back one way or another. If you think you’ve got more to say, I’ll at least hear you out.” Sunburst blinked and felt his mouth go slightly agape. Carrot glanced at him with an annoyed frown. “What?”

“Nothing,” Sunburst said, shaking his head. Blaspheming Tartarus. Something I said actually worked?

* * *

Even outdoors, Hoops couldn’t shake the tension in his shoulders. With each passing day, he remembered more and more clearly why he had never lived more than a week or two at a time with his Aunt Screed. The sky was reduced to a hard, narrow ribbon above him, and the rust-colored towers felt like they were leaning over him, closing the sky off even more. The hard, black road beneath him seemed to punch back a little with every step as he trotted through the crowds. He constantly jostled strangers with his shoulders as he tried to squeeze his way through, earning dozens of glares and scathing protests.

Growing up, he had spent as much time at flight camps and schools as he could. Whenever possible, he had been one of the few colts who actually boarded at school instead of living with family nearby. It had earned him more than a few sneers and jeers from other students, but he always made sure they didn’t keep it up for long. Screed spent more than most families to send him to those schools, he hadn’t let anyone insult what she did for him for long.

She had given him the sky he so desperately wanted. Now, he would give anything to go back to the open air and wide flight lanes of Cloudsdale.

To not have to worry about what it’ll cost me to go back, he thought reluctantly. But somehow, the soaring skies didn’t seem like the place he belonged anymore. Indeed, he had never felt lower in his life than in the days following Sunburst’s visit. He had always been able to brush off criticism from other ponies. He’d had to learn how to do that, had to learn to give as good as he got so he could keep some kind of control growing up. For the first time, he found he couldn’t do it so easily. What really plagued him, far more than what Sunburst had said, was what Hoops himself had said about Applejack. He had lied when he said he didn’t care. He’d had to lie, or else Sunburst would have used the relationship against him. Still, Hoops’ flat-out denial that Applejack meant anything to him had hurt far more deeply than he thought it could have.

Applejack respected him. Hoops wasn’t quite sure how to explain it, even to himself. Somehow, though, it felt as though she saw him as a better pony than he himself thought he was. She believed he was someone incredible. And so, suddenly, he had also believed he could be that pony. He believed he could be someone incredible. For her.

He knew Applejack didn’t see him that way anymore. He had proven her wrong, and he couldn’t rid himself of the anger and shame it brought him. Every time he tried, every time he told himself it didn’t matter, that relationships were stupid and he was better off without such judgmental jerks, that was when Screed’s words kept coming back to haunt him.

Running away was the choice his father had made. Now, it was the choice Hoops had made. And while it ate at him from the inside that Applejack and Screed no longer liked the pony that had made that choice, it was not what poisoned him. What truly harangued him was that he didn’t like the pony who made that choice, either. He didn’t know what to do about it. However, if nothing else, he was at least an expert in one thing: he knew what his father would do about it. Knowing that, there was at least one decision he could make where he would be certain of how things would turn out.

He crossed into messier streets where active development was in progress. Here, the structure of the roads and sidewalks dissolved. Instead, ponies followed chaotic, intertwining paths of convenience like ants as they wove their way to and fro. Dirt lots and half-finished shells of concrete were fenced off with thin chain fences. A few radios were playing music high above, their tunes clashing and competing against ponies yelling commands and calling for materials. Some kind of power tool was waging a celestial war against the bedrock, and Hoops flattened his ears against the din. How does Screed stand it?

He came to the edge of a fence and peered up at the rising tower. It was nothing more than a dizzying network of metal at this stage, a steel skeleton rising one hoof-thick bolt at a time. The beams had a thin, matte coat of red paint against rust, bright as blood in the late morning sun. All around it, ponies in hard hats and tool vests clambered on shaky scaffolds or balanced on the beams themselves, engaged in any number of tasks. Then he spotted Screed herself, a small knot of gray clinging upside down to one of the beams. Her short mane spilled out of her helmet and dangled in the breeze as she talked with a worker standing upright beneath her. Hoops raised a hoof and called.

“Screed! Hey, Screed!”

He saw her turn and spot him. She stared down for a second, then gave a small, curt nod before turning back to the pony beneath her. They talked for a few minutes longer, then she scurried along the underside of the beam and started pulling herself head-first down a pillar, making for the ground. Even over the din, Hoops thought he could hear the clink of the long claws at the elbows of her wings as she gripped the metal with them, moving with blinding speed like a spider as she made her way through her domain. As seamlessly as if she were gliding on wind, she transitioned from pole to earth, waiting until she stood upright to fold her thick wings behind her back. Almost immediately, she seemed a little less comfortable. She walked forward with a stiff gait, speaking with one or two more ponies before meeting Hoops at the fence.

“One sec,” she said, then ducked inside a small trailer just inside the gate. When she returned, she undid the thin chain holding the gate closed and stepped out to meet him. She left it slightly open behind her, and she didn’t take more than a few steps away from it as she gave him a stern, quizzical look.

“Need something?”

“Just wanted to say goodbye,” Hoops said, giving her a small smile. “And thanks.”

Screed’s eyebrow rose a little higher, but otherwise her expression remained stony. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah,” Hoops said. “There’s something I need to do.”

Screed waited quietly for further explanation, but Hoops didn’t have anything more he was ready to offer. When it became clear she wasn’t going to speak either, however, he gave an awkward cough and continued.

“Seriously, though, thanks for putting me up again. It means a lot.”

“Least I could do for my nephew,” Screed said with a shrug.

“Yeah… about that,” Hoops said. He felt his wings twitch, and he bit his lip to try to hold back some of his nervous energy. “I might need to come back pretty soon, depending on how things go. Mind if I crash here a little longer if that happens?”

That seemed to annoy Screed a little. “You’re family,” she said. “There’ll always be room for you here.”

“Cool… cool. And, uh… I might need that job, if the offer’s still open.”

“Depending on how things go?” she asked. She turned her head and narrowed her eyes just slightly, but he couldn’t decide what she might be thinking.

“Pretty much,” he admitted. Screed scrutinized him for a little longer before answering.

“Decide if you need it before you come asking again,” she finally said. “I’m not holding anything open ‘just in case.’ But if you do need it, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Screed. Really,” Hoops said. He didn’t have any way to convey that she had done more for him than just let him hide at her place. He wasn’t ready to explain everything that had happened in Ponyville. Even without that, though, he didn’t really know how to talk about it. Instead, he simply hoped she understood his sincerity.

Whether she did or not, she seemed tired of the conversation. She turned an eye back to the construction site, following some of her workers with narrowed eyes as if searching for slackers. “Don’t be a stranger, then.”

“I won’t,” Hoops promised. “See you around.”

He turned and trotted away from the site, hearing Screed chain the gate closed behind him as she went back to work. That’s that, then. Now there was nothing to do but find a train back west.

It was not the decision his father would have made. Hoops didn’t know if it would change how Applejack or Screed might see him after this. He didn’t know what it might do to his future, or whether there would even be anything left for him after. Yet, he was dead certain of one thing. No matter what happened next, he knew he wouldn’t have the kind of life he had grown up hating. He had rejected the choice that would lead him there. Even if whatever he got later was even worse, he could take some pride in having avoided the one storm he could see.

* * *

Screed stood inside the chain fence, watching Hoops trot away into the crowds with a heavy heart. She wanted to go after him, to follow him back and help guide him through whatever he had decided to do. But she knew she couldn’t. It wouldn’t be right, and she wouldn’t know the right things to do. She never had. All through his life, all she had been able to do was nudge him in the right direction and give him a safe place to come home to, on the rare occasions he wanted it.

It was part of what made her so proud of him. Even when he was almost totally alone in life, he hadn’t ever let it break him down. He always found some way to keep going. It might not always be the best way, but he knew how to get what he needed without anyone else looking out for him. Screed could never have given him the family he deserved. But he had tenacity, and that gave her some measure of happiness. That, at least, would carry him forward, with or without her. If he was strong enough to find his own way, maybe it wouldn’t matter that she’d never known how to help him. All she hoped, in the long run, was that she had done just a little to help him along, even if it would never be enough.

“Good luck, kid,” she said as he vanished into the city. Then her lips twitched into a thin, wry smile, thinking of a broken door and a shouting match she had heard from floors below. “And bring that great-nephew of mine back to visit if you can.”

Chapter 15 - An Overdue Greeting

Carrot leaned listlessly against the glass, watching the world slide by in a melange of meaningless shapes and blurs. Across the aisle and about seven rows up, Sunburst seemed to be sleeping, his head canted to one side and his face obscured by the limp mass of his ridiculous mane. At least he has the decency to keep his distance. It seemed that neither of them were going to pretend to be friends, and that suited Carrot just fine.

The next train that would pass through Ponyville hadn’t left until the night after their meeting. He still couldn’t quite believe he had agreed to accompany Sunburst back rather than sending him on his own way, but he was still too tired to really care. In actuality, he was still tempted to let Devil drag the idiot wizard into one of Manehattan’s alleys. As poorly as he and his brothers got along, he had no doubt that if either of his brothers found out what Sunburst had done, they would turn him into a kind of competition to see who could get the loudest shrieks.

In his heart, though, Carrot knew it wouldn’t solve anything. He wasn’t even sure he would get any satisfaction from it. And for all that he hated Sunburst, he really didn’t think he was the only villain of the whole mess. That he had shown such kindness to Carrot only added to his conflicted feelings.

This doesn’t absolve him. I don’t care if he goes back in time and makes it all so it never happened—he can’t undo what I know now. And now he’s trying to “fix” it. Intrusive bastard. It made it all the more annoying that Carrot had unwillingly appreciated some elements of Sunburst’s little pep talk. Sunburst was certainly the last pony Carrot wanted affirmation from; nevertheless, he hadn’t been able to completely dismiss some of the curious things their lives had in common. Nor, for that matter, could he ignore some of Sunburst’s more nagging questions.

“Aren’t they still the same foals you loved, for whatever reason?”

That really hadn’t been a fair question. Just how was Carrot supposed to feel about them after he discovered they weren’t his? Yes, he had loved them. But didn’t the fact that they were really somepony else’s make that all the worse?

“I’ll be damned to Tartarus if, after you brought them home, you didn’t love them like they were your own.”

That was true enough, Carrot knew. As the night drank in the miles they left behind, he couldn’t help thinking back to that beautifully bright day when Pumpkin and Pound had been born. He had been a nervous wreck for days, and when the time finally came, Cupcake had eventually rolled her eyes and threatened to tranquilize him if he didn’t calm down and help her get to the hospital. Then they had been there, sleeping in their little bassinets, oblivious to all the friends and family who came by to welcome and adore them. Carrot couldn’t recall ever feeling as warm or awed as he had that morning.

It didn’t matter whose they were that morning. I even wondered for a little while, but it just didn’t matter. It was all I could do to take in every detail, keep up with every moment before it went away. It hadn’t been about him at all then, and deep inside, he was grateful that he could still remember it that way. Yes, he had taken enormous relief and pride out of Cupcake’s pregnancy. That morning, however, he hadn’t loved them for what they meant to him. They had simply been there, pure and true, and he had loved them for it.

Those moments had kept coming afterwards, too. He could still remember all the daydreams he’d had as he watched them play, or on the rare nights when they slept more peacefully than any living creature ought to. He had imagined hundreds of different days waiting ahead of them, what it would be like to watch them grow up over all the years that would come. I promised myself I would go to every one of Pound’s sports games, if he turned out to be the type. I knew what books I wanted to get for Pumpkin, how we’d read them together… or just working out how to help her practice her magic.

He had imagined taking them to school, placating Ms. Cheerilee when they inevitably pushed the boundaries, congratulating them on their triumphs, and consoling them when it all seemed to turn against them. He had wondered what it would be like to watch them earn their cutie marks, follow their passions through graduation, even find love lives of their own and bring special someponies to introduce when the first snows of Hearth’s Warming fell.

He had wondered, yes, but he had also known something. He had known that, no matter what, he would be proud. Even just imagining it, he had thought his heart might burst with happiness for them as they grew and worked their way through this messy world. Now, jostled by the grumbling train, cradled in the murky night by emotions darker than he ever thought he could hold, each dream made him ache with stolen hope and longing.

I want those dreams back, he thought dejectedly. I want those dreams to come true. I want…

“Yes…” he said to himself drearily. “I still want some of it… don’t I. I still want to know what kinds of ponies Pumpkin and Pound turn out to be.”

But is it right to want that if they’re not mine?

Does that really have anything to do with it? another part of him asked.

Sunburst was right about one thing, at least. Even if they weren’t his children by blood, he had built a different kind of bond with them. He had forged it over days and weeks and years, dedicating enormous segments of his life to learning about and understanding them. And he did understand them, better than either Sunburst or whoever the other father was could ever hope to. He knew the way Pound telegraphed when he was done being held, winding up a dramatic punch that he would deliver if he wasn’t let down quickly enough. He knew how Pumpkin never allowed her toys to be piled in a box, but had a specific place around the room where she wanted each to be.

Is that bond strong enough? he wondered. Can you really be a father to someone you’re not related to?

He felt the answer should have been obvious. Ponies adopted foals all the time. No one questioned the bond families like that shared. Looking at it like that, he could only marvel that it seemed so hard for him to feel the same way.

You can want ponies to be happy even if you’re not related by blood, can’t you? You can want to be part of their lives, to care for and build them up. Isn’t that how love starts? With two ponies deciding to become something more together?

That, however, was going back too far. It brought Cupcake to mind where before he had been able to keep her half-hidden in the background. Almost without realizing it, he was back behind the walls in his mind, and his heart was closed. He still couldn’t question his feelings where she was concerned. He was afraid if he did, he would fall into a dark hole he would never find his way out of. Even the pain of recalling happier memories was simply too much.

The train jolted as it hit a rough spot in the tracks, and the ponies sleeping around him grunted and grumbled in their sleep before settling back into oblivion. Carrot closed his eyes and tried to focus only on the sounds of the tracks, the rhythm of the swaying car. They were on a more direct route than he had taken to escape Ponyville, and so would arrive sooner. It was still a long journey ahead, though, and he decided he ought to at least try to rest if he could. No matter what Ponyville had in store for him, facing it exhausted would only make it all worse.

He slept fitfully, and the trains rumbled on through the night and the following day, chasing the sun into the west as Carrot and Sunburst drew closer and closer to Ponyville. They didn’t speak, didn’t even make eye contact through the entire journey if they could help it. So the time passed, the Equestrian landscape blurring through immaterial hills and valleys until Mount Canterhorn and the silhouette of Canterlot finally began to rise in the distance. As the sun won the mismatched race, the train rounded the final bends and pulled into Ponyville station just as the second evening was darkening into night.

“So,” Sunburst asked, looking uncertainly at Carrot. He stood almost far enough away on the platform that most ponies wouldn’t think they were together, and he had to speak up a little to be heard clearly. “How should we go about this?”

Carrot wasn’t sure why, but he suddenly felt extremely self-conscious. Everything was too familiar, and it was unsettling after the dissolution and anonymity of Manehattan. There, he realized, he had been able to withdraw into himself, and no one had paid it a second thought. Here, not only did he recognize every brick in the train station’s façade, every bend and curve of the roads, but not one of the ponies wandering about at the late hour was a stranger. He might not be able to put a name to everyone, but there wasn’t a face about that he hadn’t seen at least once—and who didn’t know who he was.

He didn’t know how much of what had happened with Cupcake had spread through the little town, but rumors spread fast. It wouldn’t have taken much at all for at least ninety percent of the residents to have heard some titillating tidbit about how his life had fallen apart. It was almost enough to send him slinking back into the train.

And Sunburst is here too, he thought, his anxiety mounting ever closer to a real panic. What the hay is that going to make them think?

He took a deep, steadying breath. You’re in control, Carrot. This goes how you want.

“Actually, Sunburst… I’d appreciate it if you gave me some space for now,” he said, not taking his eyes off the paths in front of him. “I’d still like to think through some things alone.”

Sunburst seemed uncertain about whether that was a good idea or not, but he hadn’t dared to argue with Carrot about a single thing since they set out. He’s probably too scared to jeopardize this little cease-fire we have going. Instead, Sunburst only gave a slow nod. He started to walk in another direction, probably just chosen at random.

“Alright. In that case, I think I’ll find Starlight and tell her I’m here. Do you... do you want us to let Cupcake know you’re back?”

Again that wave of uncertainty, and again, Carrot shut it away behind a thick door. He kept his eyes focused on the road as he answered. “Not yet. I need to think, and she… she’ll want to talk. If you do see her... probably won’t be able to avoid telling her, but give me some time in any event.”

Sunburst seemed even less happy about that. Carrot didn’t know whether he would even be able to avoid telling Cupcake if they saw each other. For the moment, however, he went along with it, and Carrot lost sight of Sunburst as he started to make his own way in among the cottages. The lamps were glowing brightly along the major avenues, but be found himself instinctively keeping out of the light and avoiding ponies as he wandered deeper into the town. It was a simple enough task to keep to the back alleys and the dimmer streets, and the meandering route gave him time to try to pick apart his thoughts at a safe pace.

Why did I come back here? he wondered, keeping a wary eye on the bright windows and doorways he avoided. Maybe this was a mistake.

Sunburst had wanted him to remember why he had been drawn here in the first place. He wanted him to remember the better times before he decided if they had been false or not.

Well. There’s only one place to do that. He turned to the center of town. A noticeable gap between rooftops marked the place where everything had begun. He made his way forward, carried with apprehensive but steady steps. It was time to see if anything was left, or if all that was remained of his past was an empty lot and some scorched scars.

* * *

Sunburst hesitated as he stepped onto the avenue leading to Princess Twilight’s palace. The crystal lamps had just ignited, and in their curiously cool amber glow, he could see Spike giving the front stairway a final sweep before closing everything up for the night. He took an involuntary step back, going through a quick mental rundown of the castle procedures he had observed in his previous stay. I’d rather not talk to anyone but Starlight, otherwise word might get back to Cupcake. But if Spike’s cleaning up, that means I’ll have to knock to be let in when he leaves. Either way, doesn’t look like I’m getting in completely unnoticed.

He bit back a curse at his lack of magical ability and felt a seething envy of teleportation spells. Better to get in without making any more of fuss than I have to, then. He approached the circle of light around the castle doors, drawing Spike’s attention just as he finished the lowest step.

“Sunburst!” Spike said, greeting him with his eyebrows raised in surprise. “What are you doing back so soon?”

“Hey there Spike,” Sunburst replied quietly. “Kind of a long story.” I probably shouldn’t ask about Cupcake. That would seem odd to him. “Is Starlight around?”

“Ohhh,” Spike said, drawing out the sound just a little bit longer than Sunburst thought he ought to have. He frowned, but Spike just gave him a sly grin. “I see.”

“Spike,” Sunburst admonished, putting only the slightest hint of his fatigue into his voice. He did not have the energy or humor left for assumptions.

“It’s cool, it’s cool,” Spike said with an airy shrug. “Last I saw, she was in the library.”

“Thanks, Spike.” Sunburst moved to step past him, hoping the conversation was at an end. Before he could go inside, however, he heard someone trotting up hurriedly behind him.

“Sunburst?”

Ponyfeathers. How do ponies keep sneaking up on me? Sunburst sighed. It was exactly his luck that, once again, the voice was not the one he wanted to hear. He turned, pulling on what he hoped was a casual, if wary, smile as he greeted Cupcake. He felt the familiar lurch of subdued longing as he noticed Pumpkin looking out at him curiously from a foal carrier on Cupcake’s back. A fidgety Pound was trying to squirm out beside her.

“Hey Spike, Twilight’s wondering if you’ve— Sunburst?” Starlight trotted into view at the top of the steps, coming to a quick stop as her eyes flitted between him and Cupcake.

I give up.

“You’re back!” Starlight continued. “Is…” she glanced at Cupcake uncertainly, but Cupcake only stared at Sunburst with a similar measure of wariness. “Is anything wrong?”

Aw, horseapples. Sorry, Carrot; looks like you’re not lying low for long at all. “No, nothing wrong. Nothing more than usual,” he added before he could stop himself. Spike was looking between them all with an increasingly invasive curiosity. He could definitely tell something strange was going on.

“You haven’t heard anything, have you?” Cupcake asked, almost as if she couldn’t quite bring herself to ask. “From Carrot?”

“Carrot?” Spike asked, his brow furrowing in confusion. “I thought he went to Manehattan. Why would Sunburst meet up with him?”

“About that,” Sunburst asked, holding back an annoyed glance at Spike. “We really should talk.”

It didn’t need to be said that the conversation wasn’t meant for outside ears. Yet even the hint was enough to animate Cupcake with more energy than Sunburst had seen in her since his first arrival. She gave a quick nod, said something about coffee for everyone, and ushered them up the stairs and through the doors before Spike could ask any more questions. He thought he heard Spike call out to them when they were out of sight, but Cupcake’s only response was to quicken their pace.

Starlight gave him a quizzical look, but he only shook his head. There was simply too much to go through, and the risk of their voices carrying was too high. Only when Cupcake had corralled them inside their suite did any of them utter another word.

“What happened?” Cupcake asked as she dragged a playpen out of the bedroom. Sunburst held back a wince as she deposited Pumpkin inside. He couldn’t help giving a long, quiet look at his daughter as Cupcake turned to move Pound in with her. It might have been his imagination, but he thought Pumpkin was watching him with an equal intensity, eyes bright and questioning as she held him with her small gaze.

“Sunburst?”

“Yeah,” he said, tearing his eyes away from Pumpkin. “Sorry. Bit exhausted.”

“I can tell,” Starlight said sympathetically. “So, what happened? Carrot didn’t contact you or anything like that, did he?”

“Not intentionally,” Sunburst hedged. “But we did sort of run into each other by accident.”

“ ‘Run into each other?’ ” Cupcake asked.

“It was a really freakish coincidence, all said and done,” Sunburst replied, brushing back his mane awkwardly.

“Is he back? Did he come back with you?”

Sunburst hesitated, casting about for some answer he could give and still keep his promise. It was no good, though. By her expression, Cupcake was already guessing the truth. “Yes,” he admitted. He threw out a foreleg to block Cupcake as she darted forward, running for the door without another word. “Wait, wait! He’s not ready to talk to anyone yet.”

“Not ready?” Cupcake demanded, looking at Sunburst with wild eyes. “How can he be back and not ready? What more does he need to do?”

“He’s still trying to come to terms with some things,” Sunburst said, holding up both hooves in a placating gesture. “We managed to talk a little in Manehattan, and his mind’s in a pretty messed up place right now.” There was no way he could even hint at how seriously Carrot was contemplating ending their relationship. Any discussion on those lines that wasn’t between Carrot and Cupcake would definitely lead to disaster. “But I think he’ll be ready to come here soon.”

“Soon?” Cupcake asked. She seemed to shrink before his eyes. “Soon? How soon is soon? He’s already been gone over a week.”

“Very soon, I think,” Sunburst insisted. “He’s already back in town, so he can’t want to stay away much longer.”

“Still… maybe I should go to him,” Cupcake said, edging around Sunburst and closer to the door. “He’s been dealing with this all alone. We should at least talk about some of this together.”

“Cupcake, I know you’re afraid,” Starlight said. “And I know how desperately you want to see him again. But maybe we should wait a bit longer, if he wants us to.”

For a little while, Cupcake just stood there, biting her lip furiously as she stared at the door. A thin dam of tears stood in her eyes, not spilling over, but reflecting the crystal lights all the same. Then, Sunburst saw it break. He wasn’t sure exactly indicated the change physically, but when it happened, he knew it was hopeless. “No... no, I... I can’t,” she said. “He asked for space, and I gave it to him. He left me alone long enough. If he’s back, then we’re talking. Now.”

“Cupcake,” Starlight warned, but it was too late. Before either of them could make another move, Cupcake was running for the door without a backward glance. Starlight dashed a few steps after her, but slowed to a resigned stop as the door banged open and Cupcake vanished into the castle. She turned to Sunburst, apprehension clouding her face. “Should we…?”

Sunburst gave an exhausted sigh and shook his head. And once again, you throw a wrench in the works. Well done, Sunburst. Well done. “I don’t think there’s any point. If she’s made up her mind, then it’s probably time to let them work it out. If they can.”

Starlight turned back to the door, clearly still on the verge of chasing after Cupcake and dragging her back. Then she slumped. “You might be right. Honestly, a few more days of hearing nothing, and I’m not sure either I or Applejack could have stopped her from following him anyway. She’s been on the verge of a breakdown all week.” She glanced at the playpen, giving a hollow chuckle as she spotted Pumpkin and Pound staring at them with wide, puzzled eyes. “Guess I’m back on duty keeping on eye on this pair. Will you stick around until she comes back?”

Sunburst glanced at the playpen. Pumpkin was still watching him, head tilted just a bit to the side as she stared with a bemused expression. She seemed to be trying to decide something about him.

“Maybe I shouldn’t,” Sunburst said. Forcing each word out was like tapping hobnails into his horn. Almost fearfully, he took a step back from Pumpkin. “Cupcake wouldn’t want me here.”

“Some of that may change soon,” Starlight said quietly, watching Sunburst with a cautious expression. “And it’s not like she took the time to tell you to keep away before she ran off.”

Sunburst shook his head. “I… I can’t.”

“Sunburst?”

“What I mean is, if things don’t change, I won’t be able to take it,” he explained. “If I meet her now, and then I have to stay away again… it’ll kill me, Starlight. I can’t… I just can’t right now. Not until I know.”

Starlight looked like she wanted to argue. Sunburst was fairly certain she was going to as soon as she put together a few things to say. Before that happened, though, a knock rapped smartly at the door. Sunburst turned with Starlight in confusion, glancing at the door before shooting her a puzzled look. “That can’t be one of them, can it?”

“Can’t be Cupcake already,” Starlight said, making her way to answer it. “I mean, maybe it’s Carrot, and he doesn’t want to just barge in. I can’t believe they missed each other, though.”

“It would fit the pattern,” Sunburst said wryly as she made to open the door. “With all the bizarre twists of fate we’ve had thrown at us, them missing each other would just about be the last straw. It’s not like it could get much crazier than that.”

“Spike?” Starlight asked as she opened the door. “Did you need something? And who’s this?”

Now thoroughly puzzled, Sunburst stepped closer to get a better view of the door. As he saw the pony standing behind Spike, his jaw dropped in what could only be understood as annoyed dismay.

“Hey,” Hoops said, brushing a lock of his mane back nervously with a wing. He took a few steps inside. “I’m, uh… I’m looking for a pony named Cupcake. Some ponies in town said she would be…”

Hoops caught sight of Sunburst, who by then had hardened his face into his best disapproving glare. At Hoops’ reaction, Sunburst allowed himself a small flicker of satisfaction. Professor Hornsnapper herself would have been proud of the expression of horror that dawned on the larger Pegasus’ face.

“Oh, ponyfeathers,” Hoops said.

“What are you doing here?” Sunburst demanded. He took a step forward, then froze. Unbidden, the memory of being challenged with just such a question not two days ago resurfaced, and he suddenly felt less sure of himself.

“Hey man, look,” Hoops said, raising a defensive hoof. “I’m not here for trouble, seriously.”

“You’re Hoops,” Starlight said as understanding dawned on her. Then both her expression and voice chilled markedly. “Thank you, Spike. Would you give us some privacy?”

“Uh…” Spike’s eyes were darting between the three ponies. His curiosity was still plain to see, but it was clear he was also worried about the open hostility in the room. He didn’t seem to want to leave the unknown pony alone. “Are you sure you—”

“Privacy, Spike,” Starlight said. Without another word, she shut him out of the room. Then she turned back to Hoops, and when she spoke, none of the ice had left her gaze or voice. “You’re the one who ran out on Applejack.”

“Oh. You know about that, huh?” Hoops said, scratching the back of his mane as he took a tiny step back. “Yeah. Not my best moment.”

Sunburst felt his glare fading a little. It was almost like he was looking at a different pony than the one he had confronted back in Manehatten. There was none of the defiant bravado, none of the angry defensiveness that Hoops had pushed back with before. He almost sounds conciliatory.

“Listen,” he said, looking past Starlight to Sunburst. “I thought about what you said. Couldn’t get that or a few other things out of my head after all this started catching up to me.”

“You’re not going to tell me you changed your mind,” Sunburst said uncertainly. “You were pretty clear about your feelings on the matter.”

“Hey, come on, you kind of ambushed me,” Hoops said, frowning. “I didn’t ask for any of this, and it got sprung on me pretty fast. I ought to get cut a little slack, at least.”

“So, you’re here to talk to Cupcake, then?” Starlight asked, breaking in before anything could escalate between them. Hoops grimaced, and Sunburst noticed his wings twitch. Conciliatory or not, he looked like he wanted nothing more than to rocket away.

“I guess?” he said. “I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do, or what anyone wants from me, but—”

“Da?”

Sunburst jumped as the small voice sounded out behind him. Three heads turned to stare at the playpen, where Pound Cake had climbed up and perched precariously on the edge of the wall. Pumpkin was standing up and poking her head over the barrier as well, but Pound had fixed Hoops with an almost spookily intense stare. Without waiting another moment, he fluttered down to the floor and started an unsteady trot across the floor towards the adults.

“Whoa,” Hoops said, sounding suddenly winded. “That’s not… him, is it?”

“Hold on there little one,” Starlight said, putting out a foreleg to stop Pound. “Not sure now’s the best time.” She glanced between Sunburst and Hoops, clearly nervous about the turn everything was taking. Sunburst could sympathize. He doubted Cupcake had expected Starlight to manage this sort of mess while she was out tracking Carrot down. This really shouldn’t be happening without them.

Pound was looking between Starlight and Hoops with a simple, frustrated confusion. He screwed up his face when he looked at Hoops, as if he was trying to sort through an exceptionally difficult puzzle. “…da?”

“Holy shit,” Hoops said, still short of breath.

“Hoops!” Sunburst snapped. Hoops, however, didn’t seem to be able to hear him anymore. He took a few steps into the room, staring at Pound with his mouth slightly agape.

“Is he…?” Hoops didn’t seem to be able to ask the complete question. His wings had stopped twitching, but now he looked like he might shatter instead.

Starlight glanced uneasily at Sunburst, then back at Hoops. “Uh… yeah, Hoops. This is Pound Cake. He’s… um…”

“Your son,” Sunburst finished. “Biologically, that is.”

In a bizarre gesture, Hoops used both his wings to pull his mane back from his eyes and tuck it behind his ears. Sunburst blinked, realizing he had never actually seen the younger pony’s eyes before. They were startlingly bright, a brilliant, clear shade of pastel green that reminded him of jade. They were wide open now, staring at Pound in an expression that Sunburst almost thought was… awe.

Hoops stepped up to Starlight, pausing before coming any closer. He looked down at Pound, who was still watching him with a suspicious expression. “Heh…” a ghost of a smile twitched onto his face, but was too unsteady to remain. “He’s… he’s a cute kid,” he said, his voice as unsteady as his smile had been. He sniffed, and to Sunburst’s astonishment, a few small tears spilled out from his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. Hoops didn’t seem to notice. Then he took a long, broken breath and blinked hard, shaking his head. “Oh man, I wasn’t ready for this.” He gave an even louder sniff, wiping a foreleg almost angrily across his face. He bent down a little, his knees trembling ever so slightly, and looked at Pound a little more closely. “Are you seriously… mine?”

As if in answer, Pound pushed his way past Starlight’s leg. Her mouth tightened, but she didn’t seem to know whether she should interfere or not. Pound stalked up to Hoops, tilted his small head, and his lip pulled back in an expression of concerned thoughtfulness.

“You can’t know… can you?” Hoops asked. He glanced at Sunburst, almost begging him to say something. “He can’t know.”

“Da.” As if to emphasize his point, Pound gave Hoops’ leg a sharp poke, almost a punch, looking up at him with a strange, almost demanding expression. Hoops shrank back, and Sunburst could see him start to pull his leg away defensively. Then he froze, seeming to pull just a tiny bit of calm together before he looked to Starlight.

“C… can I…?”

“I…” Starlight just shook her head. “Just… be careful. If anything happens, I will present your immolated corpse to Cupcake as an offering of penitence.”

Hoops bent down, the motion as robotic and stiff as if he were watching somepony else guide his body with the most rudimentary controls. Pound almost clambered into his forelegs in response, and Hoops sat back on his haunches harder than he probably meant to as he tried to keep his balance. “Holy shit,” he breathed again. He didn’t have a good hold on Pound, and the tiny foal squirmed a little as he pulled himself into a more comfortable spot. In that moment, Sunburst felt a wave of pain and envy so intense, it almost knocked him back on his own haunches. Not yet, he told himself. Pumpkin will be there when we’re all ready to work out how we’ll structure this. And I’ll be there for her.

“I was not ready for this,” Hoops repeated quietly, almost reverently. “Are you seriously mine? That’s just…” he looked up at Starlight and Sunburst. “I don’t think I can wrap my head around that.”

Slowly, almost stealthily, Pound started to pull his foreleg back. Hoops looked down, curious, just in time to take Pound’s full roundhouse punch straight on the nose.

“Ow!” he yelped, nearly falling flat onto his back as his wings scrabbled erratically at the air. He nearly dropped Pound out of sheer shock, and both Starlight and Sunburst jumped forward, levitation spells ready to catch the foal if necessary. Pound managed to cling to Hoops’ shoulder, though, and once Hoops had steadied himself, Pound pushed himself away and fluttered to the floor. He stalked away, looking strangely pleased with himself, while Pumpkin garbled out incoherent approval from the playpen.

Hoops scowled, holding a hoof over his face as he glared at Pound. “Okay,” He said, rubbing his reddening snout with a pouting expression. “He actually might be mine.”

Sunburst didn’t feel any compunctions at all about laughing at Hoops, even if it did earn him a deadpan stare from Starlight.

Chapter 16 - If the Heart Remains

There really isn’t much left, Carrot thought, a bit of detached curiosity worming through his defenses. It was well and truly night when he arrived, and the space where the Sugarcube Corner had stood was a conspicuous void in the surrounding light of the town. There was a little ambient light from nearby houses, but for the most part, everything Carrot could see was illuminated only by the full moon above.

It hadn’t looked so barren after the fire, he was certain of that. That scene was burned forever into his memory, the first clear sight of their home lying in crumbled, blackened heaps. Only the lines of the warped foundations had any resemblance to the shape of what they had built. Now, however, most of the rubble had been cleared. A few piles of rubbish still remained. They were heaped against the shards of wall that still stood here and there, which looked more like enormous pieces of broken, scattered glass than remnants of a building.

Carrot wandered in among the wreckage. The ground was surprisingly clear; it almost looked like it had been swept. Nothing but a hard scouring would clear the layer of ash and soot that still clung to it, though. His hooves were instantly darkened by it as he stepped into the circle of ruin, and he could still smell and taste the smoke, so unlike any other smell he knew. It was heavier than the smell of burned bread, and somehow bigger than the smell of tobacco, campfires, or fireworks. More overwhelming. It might be months before it faded.

The gutted corpse of the dresser was still there, he noted with a dispassionate glance. Nearby, the blackened metal veins of their mattress had been leaned against it. No doubt they would be hauled away soon. He glanced at one of the rubbish heaps. He could see the bloated pages of a foal’s storybook in one of the rubbish heaps, the edges painted with charcoal and the words scorched almost beyond legibility. There’s nothing here to remember, he thought, looking around at the remnants with a curiously poignant melancholy. The damage was just too much. I can barely even recognize anything.

Belatedly, he realized he had wandered through the storefront and into the bakery proper. He had already half-forgotten what the layout of his own home had looked like. There was no mistaking that line of dark metal, though. The ovens of Sugarcube Corner had occupied almost the entire back wall, and like the larger pieces of furniture, they hadn’t yet been moved.

In their case, however, it was for a different reason. The ovens were probably older than the building had been. They were forged from enormous slabs of industrial-grade cast-iron, several inches thick, and each weighed at least several hundred pounds all by itself. The fire had scorched each to a blackened hulk and even deformed some of the hardware, but the ovens themselves were the only things that had survived the fire without any real damage. For all its frills and fluff, the Sugarcube Corner had been built with a heart of blazing iron at its core, something Carrot had never imagined budging or breaking. And sure enough, they had remained when all else crumbled away.

He walked up to one of the ovens and ran a hoof along it gently, brushing a line of soot away as he did. The metal was ice-cold now, sitting exposed to the dark night air as it was. It’s so quiet, he realized after a moment. He had almost forgotten how quiet Ponyville was compared to Manehattan. He could almost hear the coarse grains of charcoal grinding against each other as he brushed the oven off. I remember asking to look at these, he remembered, not noticing the tiny smile that pulled at his lips. We could see them from the front counter. I never thought to ask any of the Manehattan bakers if they’d show me their setup.

And she was there. He could see it as clearly as if the dark, burned scene wasn’t even in front of him anymore. Cupcake, standing by the ovens’ warm glow, her cheeks bright with the heat as she pulled the next batch of pastries out for her parents. Her mane had been shorter and more carelessly styled back then. Her parents had owned the Corner in those days, and she had been working for them almost as long as she could walk.

Carrot had been surprised to see she was about the same age as him. Until that day, he had never met a pony his own age who had any interest whatsoever in baking. And when he had started pestering her parents with a few excited questions about how they ran the place, Cupcake hadn’t laughed at him or scornfully asked why he wasn’t at the Hoofball field with one of his brothers. Instead, they had ended up talking together for more than an hour before Rum dragged him away to catch their next train.

That had been the day Carrot stopped feeling quite as strange and alone in the world. He almost hadn’t had the courage to write to her out of the blue when he returned home, but the friendship had felt worth the risk. And she had written back.

That was how it started, he thought. They exchanged recipes, discussed different bakeries they found, and eventually opened up about their personal lives too. Carrot made excuses to pass through Ponyville and stop by the Corner more and more often. And at some point, their shared passion had stopped being the basis for a friendship, and instead drew them closer into something more. Skills became the foundation for a business, and finally, Carrot traded his role as friend for that of a husband. He wasn’t quite sure what the differences were, or where the boundaries began and ended. He only knew that, gradually, their cares had shifted.

They had talked about having a family long before they were married. Cupcake had seemed so relieved that not only was he not repulsed by the idea but was highly in favor of it. It was as the years had gone on and they adjusted to each other’s constant presence, Carrot realized, that the first caliginous tendrils of fear had started to take hold. It hadn’t mattered that no foals seemed to be forthcoming for the first few years of marriage. There were far too many other things to think about. It was only when their fifth anniversary faded that Carrot’s worries were haunting him almost constantly.

But that wasn’t where it started, he realized, almost unconscious of where his thoughts were leading him. It started here. Right by these ovens. It wasn’t our plans that drew us together. Not even our hopes. It was our interests. Our passions. Cupcake hadn’t simply been beautiful to him. She had been a kindred spirit, filled with a strength and enthusiasm Carrot had been starved for all his life. Where he doubted, she believed. Where he wavered, she urged him on. She had believed, every minute, that they could do anything together. And somehow, as time had gone on, he had felt as if he really were as strong as the pony she seemed to see him as. He had been strong. With her.

“Carrot?”

Carrot felt his eyes go wide, and he almost jumped through a full turn as he spun to see her. Cupcake stood where the entrance to the bakery had once been, framed by the diminutive stumps that remained of its swinging door. Her eyes were wide in the moonlight, and she took a single, hesitant step forward, like she was afraid he would spook and spring away if she moved too suddenly. “You’re back.”

Carrot stood as still as if he had been turned to the same rigid iron as the stoves behind him. The cold air seemed to bowl over him like a train. He was startled to realize he had felt warm only a second or two before. It was as if the heat from the ovens had been so powerful and so real, even the memory of them had briefly been able to physically warm him.

“Cupcake,” he said quietly, almost more to confirm her presence to himself than to greet her. Her face twitched in worried frown, and she stopped coming closer. She had noticed the strange tone of his voice.

Anguish rose up inside him, and he could feel his mind fleeing back to that dark, small space inside where nothing mattered, where nothing hurt. The walls were going up and the doors were slamming shut. He would greet her with cold indifference, he would push everything away, and then—sometime later, it didn’t matter when—he could approach the issue again.

Only, it didn’t work. Not this time. This time, as he saw her, the source of all his pain and doubt, something else rose up and pushed back. That first instant of conflict was so intense, it nearly tore him apart. The world seemed to tilt drunkenly, and he nearly staggered back as fought off the wave of vertigo.

It wasn’t happiness. Far worse, it was something that reminded him of happiness. It was the memory of feeling happy when he saw her, he realized, and it was pummeling his defenses to pieces even as he recognized it for the twisted, broken shadow of real emotion that it was. Sunburst had been wrong. It hadn’t helped to come back here; it had made the confusion and conflict ten, no, a hundred times worse. He wanted so badly to push her away. He wanted with every fiber of his being to cut away the uncertainty, the insecurity, the sheer misery of everything that had happened.

He wanted to leave.

And I did leave. I left before. I should be able to leave now. Why can’t I? He felt paralyzed, and his stomach turned like he was going to be sick. This wasn’t so hard before. Why is it so hard now?

And then the pieces fell into place. That memory, that ghost of what he had felt so many times over the past few years, broke through the walls and hit him like a thunderclap. He realized, against all logic, all policy and experience that told him how he ought to feel, that he still felt that affection and attraction he had found in that very spot all those years ago. That was the source of the conflict. The lingering desire for all they had and could have had together left him like a drowning castaway at sea, battered back and forth by waves of emotion that beat him senseless.

He didn’t know what to feel, and it was precisely because he wanted two diametrically opposed things. He wanted to cut away the pain, but he wanted to be with Cupcake. There wasn’t a scrap of ground where the two could meet. He blinked and swayed where he stood. He needed to escape the clash, needed to stop staring at the ragged schism where the feelings met. If he examined it a moment longer, he thought he would surely snap like the twig he was.

“Carrot?” Cupcake’s voice wavered. She sounded scared. Carrot’s awareness snapped back to the present. He was outside in the winter night, in Ponyville, and Cupcake stood in front of him. He pulled in a long, shaky breath of clear air and blinked away the last of the dizziness.

“I’m okay,” he said shakily. Then he realized no one had asked. He gave the tiniest embarrassed smile. “I’m just… I’m okay.”

“Are you?” Cupcake asked softly. She took a few more steps forward, but she stopped well away from him. He was grateful she tried to respect some kind of distance between them, even now.

“No,” he replied softly. “No, I’m not.”

Cupcake nodded, her eyes wandering over the char and ruin of their home. Her brows were curved with quiet sorrow. “Me neither.”

For a little while, they just stood there together in the cold, unable to look at each other. Somehow, the quiet, dead rubble was more comforting than the immediacy of change that now hung between them. There’s no more time, Carrot thought numbly. There’s nowhere else to run. We’re here.

“Would it do any good for me to apologize?” Cupcake asked, stirring him from his reverie. Finally, he looked at her, almost puzzled.

“You already did,” he said. Their voices were quiet as snow in the otherwise empty night. There wasn’t a sound to be heard in the entire village around them. He could almost imagine they were all that was left in the world.

“Then… do you think I’m lying?”

“…I don’t know.” He turned away. “I really don’t know what I think anymore.”

“I never wanted this,” Cupcake said after a moment, stepping towards the scorched ovens. “I never wanted any of this to happen. You can believe that, can’t you? This… what we had here in Ponyville… that was all I ever wanted. I wanted that to last forever.”

“Then why? Why did it happen, if you didn’t want it?” He turned to her, a hint of the anger he had tried to cling to returning to him. “You said you chose to do it, Cupcake. You said you decided to go through with the whole thing that night. Why, if you didn’t want it?”

“I’ve asked myself that for more than two years,” she answered, barely loud enough for him to hear. “There’s no excuse. I know that, Carrot. The only way I can explain it is that I was just so, so confused and afraid that night. I thought it was all ending, all that time ago.” She sighed and lowered her head, putting a hoof on the cold metal as if to steady herself. “When it all started happening, it just… felt good. In some way, I think I was afraid it was the last time I’d get to feel anything like it. So, I kept it going.”

“…Did you want it to end? Back then?”

She turned to look at him, brow furrowed in confusion and fear. “What?”

“Did you want it to end?” he asked. “When we found out we would never have foals together. Did you want to find someone else?”

She looked into his eyes for a few seconds before answering, almost like she was searching him for the answer rather than within herself. “No. Not even for an instant, Carrot.” Finally, she closed the distance between them. She raised a hoof to touch his cheek, daring to brush it with only the smallest contact. He felt the cold grit of soot, and he saw her grimace as she saw she was leaving a smudge of it on him. “Not then, and not once since. I wanted to spend my life with you, Carrot. No matter what that life looked like. Foals or not. If this whole place burned to the ground and we never clawed our way back, I still wanted to face whatever we had to with you.”

Tears were welling in her eyes, and she blinked them away as she broke eye contact with him. “I wish I’d known how to say that before now. Maybe I thought it didn’t need to be said. But it’s still true. I still want that. Carrot, I want you to stay.” She couldn’t hold the tears back anymore. She closed her eyes, her face screwed up in an angry, crushing grip of overwhelming inner turmoil. “Please, Carrot. I don’t know what it will take, but… anything. I would give anything to still have that with you.”

He thought of meeting Prudent in Manehattan, of the paperwork that still sat in a drawer in his small room on the sea. Even now, they somehow seemed to call to him. Am I supposed to just forgive and forget? Pretend like none of this mattered, that it’s all perfectly fine? It felt like surrender. It almost felt like the easy option, like burying his own feelings to make as little trouble for everyone else. Keep the happy little family together, keep everyone in Ponyville from suspecting. Play the part. Everyone else gets to be happy. Contrasted with that, the papers seemed like action he could take; a way to assert his own will and take his fate back into his own hooves. It was almost enough to make him forget the feelings his memories had returned to him.

But he couldn’t forget. He couldn’t look away from it. Not anymore. Even as it threatened to tear him apart, he realized there was one grain of truth in that paradox that even he wasn’t obstinate enough to ignore.

“I…” he whispered. “I want it too. It doesn’t make any sense to me, but I do. But I don’t think I can just forget this. Every day, every moment I would spend with you or Pumpkin or Pound… I couldn’t just pretend like I don’t remember. I’d be forced to relive all this every single time. I don’t know if I can live like that.”

“I know,” Cupcake said, breathing out the words with a resignation that hurt Carrot to hear. “I know you’ll never forget. I don’t know who could. But please,” she pleaded, “take a chance. If there’s still any part of you that sees anything in me, then give us both one more chance at what we wanted. If it doesn’t work out…” Carrot could see her throat constrict as she tried to choke out the words. “…Then I won’t stop you. I won’t fight it. I’m not saying this will just go away. I’ve… I’ve hurt you. I’ve hurt you so deeply, I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand the full extent of it. I can’t make up for it. But give us all just one more chance to be what we thought we could be.”

I wanted so much for all of us, Carrot thought, almost saying it aloud. I wanted…

…this.

He blinked in surprise at the unbidden thought. He looked at Cupcake, confused for a moment. What?

It made no sense, but there was something else there now, something he hadn’t recognized until just then. He had carried a void with him ever since leaving Ponyville, a void that had plagued him every step of the way. It was what had hollowed him out as he tried to take pleasure in returning to Manehattan, in the familiar tasks and pastimes that used to be so familiar. That empty space that seemed to walk beside him had vanished the moment Cupcake had come to him. For all the anguish and uncertainty it also brought, he realized he no longer felt the ache of missing her, of wondering what her response would be to whatever circumstance he happened to be in.

In spite of all the pain, all the uncertainty, he had missed her. He had still wanted her by his side, even as he fought to want to cut her away. In that spot, where he had fallen in love with the pony who shared his passions and dreams, who banished the loneliness he had endured all his life, he realized that want was not just a memory. It was there, present, alive, and undeniably real.

It terrified him.

“What…” he asked. “…what could a future for us even look like?” He waved vaguely at the emptiness around them. “Do you really think we can rebuild what we had? How could we ever get that trust back?”

“I don’t know,” Cupcake said. “That’s why I’m asking you to find out with me. But I promise, Carrot, I’ve learned from my mistake. I have spent every night since regretting what happened, and trying... trying to find some way... but I made more mistakes. So I don’t know what it will take, or what our family will be like or feel like after this… but I know I can swear one thing to you. There won’t be any more secrets. Never again. I know I can make that much happen.”

Once again, Carrot felt the merciless tides of anger and longing rise up to tear him apart. He was standing on a wire stretched over two incomprehensibly deep, dark chasms. At the bottom of each was a life, a life that looked so different from the other, and there wasn’t a single common element to be found between them. He had perched there as long as he could. He had to fall, had to plummet into a choice he could not predict the consequences of, and he couldn’t see a single guiding light to show the way.

Carrot looked at her, trying to find some sign of what he ought to do. Nothing in his life had prepared him to be there, in that moment, facing the decision he now faced. He remembered how Cupcake had looked back then, warmed by the ovens’ cheery glow, and the earnest, bright smile that had gone from welcoming to loving as the years went by. The light was gone now, and so was the smile, but… it was still Cupcake. The earnestness was still there, the determination and strength that he had admired in her from the start.

Somehow, in that moment, he could believe she was telling the truth. And in spite of everything, some part of him wanted to stay, too. And it was stronger than he had dared acknowledge.

Almost before he knew what he was doing, he reached out and pulled Cupcake to him. At the moment he held her, such a burning wave of relief rose up it almost threw him into sobs in an instant. Somehow, he managed to choke them back. He wanted to stay in some measure of control of himself, even then. He still wasn’t sure he was happy with what he was doing. The doubt was strong enough that he almost crushed the relief he felt out of sheer caution.

Still… he thought stubbornly instead, If I feel it, doesn’t that make it real? I can trust that, can’t I? If we both want this… there has to be something left there. There has to be.

Cupcake didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure she could even if she wanted to. She only clung to him, holding so tight he could feel his shoulders and ribs flex with the sheer force of her hold. She made no sound, but he could feel the cold trickle of tears soaking into the coat of his shoulders. After another moment, he almost smiled as he realized his face was just as damp.

He held her there while he quelled the uncertainty, holding onto the memory and the promise with everything he had. Eventually, he felt steadier again, more grounded. He pulled away, and she let him go, watching him with damp, questioning eyes for what he would say next.

“I don’t…” he broke off, giving a strangled chuckle as he tried to put something coherent together. “I don’t know what I want us to do. I don’t know what to do next.” He took a long breath, pulling in the cold, clean air as if it could blow away some of the uncertainty and show him a clear way forward. “If we do this… it’s going to take so much work, Cupcake. More than anything we’ve ever done before. And if we do, I think we should… I want us to work with someone. Professionally.”

Cupcake nodded, trying and failing to clear some of the tears from her face. “I can do that. It’s probably a good idea no matter what either of us thought.” She wavered a little where she stood. She looked like she wanted to pull him close again, but like him, she continued to err on the side of caution. “Whatever you need to work through this, Carrot. We’ll go at whatever pace you need.”

“This is… this is going to take time, Cupcake. Probably a long time.”

“Time and hard work,” Cupcake said, giving him a pained smile. “Is that all? Then what are we worried about? There aren’t two ponies in Equestria better than us at that.”

Carrot couldn’t help a strangled chuckle. Time and hard work were certainly not all it would take, and they both knew it. But somehow, he could finally see a light at the end of that tunnel again. He could see a way forward.

“And,” he continued, “I’m not the only one we’re going to worry about. Whatever we do needs to work for you, too. We’ll… we’ll figure it out.” He let out a long sigh. He suddenly felt more exhausted than he could ever remember feeling, more spent even than the night he had walked twelve hours straight. “It’s going to take… a long time,” he repeated. He could hear the doubt in his own voice, the second- and third-guessing creeping back in the wake of the emotions that were ebbing away.

“We can do this,” Cupcake said, breaking the distance again and putting a hoof on his shoulder. “We can. I know it.” When she leaned into another hug, Carrot didn’t stop her. She only gave him a short squeeze before pulling away. “I love you, Carrot.”

He answered almost out of habit. Yet, as he spoke, he realized with a strange relief that the words felt honest. They felt like the first words he had spoken in weeks that were unburdened by subtext, or double meaning, or prying. They were as clear and simple as the night air around them. “I love you, too.”

Chapter 17 - Fathers

No one made a sound. Sunburst was resolutely studying a knot in the table’s wood. Hoops was chewing his lip, his eyes totally invisible behind his thick bangs. Carrot’s teeth, meanwhile, were gently grinding back and forth, his lips curled from a silent conflict, his eyes watching his hooves where they sat firmly planted on the table in front of him. No one missed the soft creaks the table gave every now and then from the pressure of those hooves, and the weight of emotion held barely in check behind them.

After lingering in Ponyville for more than a week, Sunburst had begun to wonder if he shouldn’t return to the Crystal Empire and simply wait for news once more. Even Starlight didn’t know much of what was happening. Carrot and Cupcake were rarely seen, and then only by close friends like the Apples. Rumors had finally started to circulate around town, and while most ponies made deliberate efforts not to be influenced by them, Sunburst knew that there were more than a few who simply couldn’t resist wondering why the Cakes’ habits, and the ponies who kept visiting them, had changed so strangely.

Then, Carrot asked to talk with both of them in the castle kitchens. Sunburst hadn’t known what to expect, but at the very least, he imagined it could hardly be worse than anything he had already gone through. Whatever was necessary to help everyone move on from this, he would do.

A cup of black, unsweetened coffee sat beside Carrot. He had been taking large gulps from it every few moments, though to Sunburst, it looked like he was barely able to keep from spitting it back out. Nonetheless, he seemed to be taking some kind of grim satisfaction from choking it down. Finally, Carrot looked up and met their eyes.

“You know nothing would make me happier than for both of you to disappear… right.” Carrot said. It was not a question. Sunburst and Hoops both withered a bit. Carrot let out a long, hot sigh. “I’ve had to ask myself… so many questions. Questions I never even dreamed asking. Because of you.” He tapped the table firmly with a hoof, ground his teeth some more. “I have to wonder. Do you have any idea what this has been like? To have a family… to adjust, to learn to have a family over the course of years, to learn to be a father… and then wake up asking yourself, ‘are they even mine?’ ”

“Carrot,” Sunburst began, but froze in silence when Carrot’s glare flashed to him.

“You’ve talked enough,” he said. “My turn.”

After that, though, the silence returned. Sunburst and Hoops didn’t dare move, but Carrot seemed to have lost his train of thought. They could hear his loud, hard breathing, and that sole communication between them went on for more than a minute. Large droplets of sweat grew and spiraled down the clear glasses of water beside Hoops and Sunburst.

“I asked myself if my foals had anything to do with me,” Carrot finally whispered, more to himself than to the other ponies. “I asked myself, have I been working… slaving… all these years for foals that aren’t even mine? Do you two have any idea what that feels like? To even ask, and then to hate yourself for asking?”

“No,” Sunburst said, finding some small bit of steel to put into his voice. “But I know what it’s like to ask, ‘where is my daughter?’ And tell myself every night that I’ll never know. Never deserve to know.”

Carrot didn’t react to that in any way. He seemed almost to not even have heard. They fell into silence again. This time no one knew how many minutes crawled by.

“I never asked myself anything,” Hoops finally broke in, his voice uncharacteristically small. “Not once. That’s my part in this whole mess. Never stopped to ask myself a single thing.” He gave a rueful smile, still staring down at the table. “It’s one of those things, you know? Everyone always said something like this would happen if I wasn’t careful. I never listened. Living that way never hurt dad, I figured. How could it hurt me?”

Hoops looked up, tucked a stray length of his bangs behind his ear, and gave Carrot a sheepish smile. “He never stuck around, my dad. Just did whatever he wanted. I guess—”

“Are you really making this your sob story?” Carrot asked with a lethal glare. Hoops’ smiled died.

“No sir,” he said tremulously. “I’m just saying… look. I want to… I want to do the right thing. It’s like it’s come full circle, and the ball’s in my court this time, you know? So…” he gave a helpless shrug, the set his own hooves on the table. “You tell me what you want from me, and I’ll do it. I swear it.”

“That’s a big change in attitude,” Sunburst said quietly, “from somepony who tried to run away.”

“Yeah… yeah.” Hoops swallowed and nodded. “I ran. I was scared. I’m still scared. I want… Tartarus, I wanted to crawl in a well and die. It was like I just wanted a nightmare to end… just wake up, wake up, and none of it would be real. Everything would go back to normal. And then…” Hoops shook his head, and some of his bangs fell back over his eyes. He brushed them back with a slight scowl, then smiled. “I never… you don’t really get it until you see them, do you? And you realize…”

“You realize what you’d do for them,” Carrot said, giving Sunburst the smallest glance as he did. Sunburst might have been imagining it, but he almost thought he saw approval, or gratitude. It was too fleeting to be sure which. “I think that’s what finally brought me back. One of the things. Pumpkin and Pound… aren’t mine. Not by blood. For awhile, I thought that made me wrong to love them.”

“You raised them,” Hoops said quietly, giving Carrot a weak smile. “You’re more their father than anyone.”

“You’re damned right,” Carrot said. “I’ve taken care of them. I’ve raised them through sweat, tears, and even a little bit of blood, with how wild they are. That makes them mine.” He gave each of them a long, hard look, but the anger had gone out of it. “It took me awhile to realize that. Or remember it. But now I’m convinced it’s the truth. They’re family, and that’s that. But…” he gave a long sigh. “I don’t know if that means they’re just mine.”

A long silence. Sunburst didn’t dare to break it, didn’t want to even contemplate what Carrot might be saying. By what he could see of Hoops, he guessed he was thinking much the same thing.

“Look,” Carrot continued, “I’m tired of secrets. I’m tired of ponies sending little letters behind everypony’s backs. I’m tired of seeing that shadow of fear in my wife’s eyes every time she thinks I might figure something out. I’m tired of everything. I’ve had it. I’m burned out. I’m absolutely burned out on everything each one of you has thrown at me. And if one more secret pops out, I’ll break. I’ll just… break. And the way I see it, there’s no fixing this. Any of it. Cup’s made mistakes, you both sure as Tartarus have made mistakes… and I’ve made mistakes.”

He rubbed his temples with a hoof, clenching his eyes as if trying to ward off a headache. “Celestia knows I’ve spent more time than I can recall these past few weeks imagining ways I could’ve kept this from happening. Could have. Would have. Should have. But it’s all chaff in the breeze, now. Trying to make this all neat and pretty is what’s brought us here, and I don’t want any more of it. So.” He took a long, shuddering breath. “Cupcake and I have… talked. Some. Not enough, but… We think it’s time to own the mistakes. We know what we’ve done, so now, we say we we want from here on out and have done. You want to be a part of Pumpkin’s life, Sunburst? Well. I don’t like it. But… I don’t know that it’s right to leave you out, either. You want the same for Pound, Hoops? Same deal. We’re all fathers. We’ll all be fathers.”

He took another long pull from the coffee cup, and this time, it was impossible to say whether the look of pain that twisted his face came from the taste of the coffee or his words. “It’s not going to be easy. We’re probably all going to hate it. But I guess we’ll have to work through it. Because I’ll be damned if I let all this cast any more of a shadow on those foals’ lives than it already has.”

His eyes went from Sunburst to Hoops and back again. Sunburst was struck by the change the past weeks had wrought on him. He looked older, painfully so. His face was lined in ways it surely hadn’t been before the Corner burned down, and there was even something gray in his expression. Something weathered. For a moment, Sunburst saw the resemblance to the old seafaring pony he had seen that night in the bar. Most of all, he could see the austerity; an immovable quality that would brook no argument, no challenge. There was no question among them about who was in charge there. “You two think you can work with me on that?”

Sunburst couldn’t quite speak through the lump that had formed in his throat. He only nodded, jerking his head in a way that almost threw his glasses from his face. He replaced them with a sheepish smile, using the motion to hide some of the bright tears that had sprung into his eyes. Beside him, Hoops gave a much slower, more sober nod.

“Yes, sir,” he said deferentially.

Carrot nodded, heaved a sigh, and stood to leave. “Enough said for now then, I guess.”

* * *

She was waiting for him in the park by the buckball field. Neither of them had brought anything to play with. It wasn’t that kind of day. It didn’t matter to Hoops, though. He was simply glad to see her.

“How’d it go?” she asked when he drew near. She made no effort to hide her concern. They both knew what it had taken to meet up with Carrot and Sunburst, and how many ways it might possibly go. Not even those closest to the family, like Applejack, knew exactly what Carrot or Cupcake were thinking, or what their plans for the future were. Now that he had met with Carrot, Hoops wasn’t sure even they had any clear idea of what exactly was going to happen.

“Well,” he said, letting out as much of his anxiety as he could with a deep breath. “I’m still breathing. That’s something.”

“Heh. More than most colts can expect, meeting under those circumstances,” Applejack said with a wry, nervous smile. She gestured to the bench beside her, and Hoops settled in, wrapping his wing around her and pulling her close. “Have they decided what they want from you? You know, going forward?”

“I think,” Hoops answered slowly, blowing a lock of his mane aside in a pause between words, “that’s going to be up the air for awhile. But it sounds like they’ll have us around, if we want to be.”

“If you want to be?”

Hoops gave a small shrug. “I think they’d let me off if I asked, no strings attached. Sounds like they’re too tired of trouble to force anything.”

“But you didn’t ask?”

Hoops shook his head, staring up at the clear, ice-blue sky. It was so open there in Ponyville. It reminded him of Cloudsdale. For a little while, they sat there in companionable silence, just enjoying each other’s warmth. A few other ponies were talking in the distance, but no one came near the dry game courts. The migratory birds had migrated since their last game, and a serene stillness seemed to hang over the park, soft as a quilt. It seemed a shame to break it if it could be helped. Still, there was still something he had left unsaid.

“Thanks, by the way,” he finally said.

“For what? Applejack asked.

“For giving me another chance. After I left.” Hoops shifted uncomfortably. “And after everything about Cupcake and Pound turned out to be true.”

“Heh. Well, I won’t lie, I was pretty mad at you, sugarcube,” Applejack said. “But after I got to thinking about it… I understood. At least a little.”

“Understood? How?”

“Well. I think I had some idea of why you left. But I didn’t really piece it together until Sunburst told Starlight where you’d gone. Back to Manehattan.”

“I don’t think I follow,” Hoops said with a frown. “What difference did that make?”

“I did something like that too, once.” He felt Applejack nuzzle his neck a little, but the stiffness in her shoulders betrayed that she was thinking hard about something. “I never left Ponyville much before Twilight became a princess and started including me in all these happenings and doings across Equestria. But I had been to Manehattan.” She went quiet for a little bit, and Hoops wondered if he should nudge her to keep going. Then she said, “I decided, if you had to run for a little bit, I could forgive that. You came back. That matters more.”

Somehow, Hoops got the impression he didn’t need to say anything to that. They lapsed back into silence, Hoops passing the minutes by stroking her long, thick mane with a gentle touch.

“I was wondering,” Applejack continued eventually, “what changed your mind?”

“Hmm? About what?”

“Coming back,” Applejack said, snuggling a little closer to him. “Apologizing to me. Going to talk to the Cakes. You didn’t have to.” She looked up at him, and she seemed to be trying to decide something about him behind those emerald eyes. “By the sound of it, Sunburst was ready to write you off. I doubt the Cakes would’ve gone looking for you. You could’ve started over somewhere pretty easy. Was just curious what brought you back.”

“Well… Aunt Screed had a few ideas,” Hoops said. “She’s really not the best at talking… pretty bad at it, actually. But she got the point across. And then I… well, I couldn’t get past some of the things you and I talked about.”

“What things?” Applejack asked with a confused frown.

“Back when we first started seeing each other. About… you know. How it felt. To not have them around anymore.”

“Them?” Applejack asked. Then her frown disappeared as she remembered. “Oh. Yeah.”

“Yeah.” Hoops leaned back, and his hair fell to the sides of his face as he looked at the sky. “This is all… I messed up, AJ. But… I guess… I just couldn’t get it out of my head what it was like, growing up all those years without him. And then I realized that’s what I’d be doing to this kid. I didn’t think I’d be able to forget that.” He reached up and brushed more of his mane away, then gave a rueful grin. “Jeez. That sounds pretty selfish anyway, when I say it.”

“Nah,” Applejack said. She straightened up until their faces were on level again and planted a light kiss on his cheek. “You did good, sugarcube. You did good.”

* * *

Sunburst stood motionless outside the crystal door. His mind was almost completely blank. After the hectic pace of the past few weeks, everything suddenly felt like it had ground to a screeching halt. Time itself didn’t seem to move. If Starlight hadn’t been there giving him such a worried look, he might have stood there for hours.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, speaking a little too loudly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“We don’t need to do this today,” she offered. “I think everyone’s taking time to try and come to terms with things. It might be easier to take a few days to really process this.”

“No,” Sunburst said. He let out a long, shaky breath. “I’ve been processing this for a long time. I just… I can’t believe things are changing like this. It doesn’t feel real.”

Starlight put a foreleg around him and gave him a loose, encouraging hug. “Hey. It’s real. No matter what happens from now on, I don’t think you’re going to get shut out anymore. You can do this.”

“I know.” He fidgeted with his glasses, checking for the tenth time to be sure they were straight.

“Do you want me to wait for you back in my rooms?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’d rather you stay, if you’re okay with that.”

“Then come on,” she said gently. “They’re waiting for you.”

“Right… right.” He raised a hoof and knocked. In that moment, such a spike of anxiety welled up in his chest that he nearly choked. He clenched his teeth and forced it back down. Is this what it’s like for everyone? Is it supposed to be this terrifying?

Cupcake opened the door. She still looked exhausted. Sunburst doubted any of them would sleep soundly for some time. So much of the stress was still hanging over them, like stubborn rain clouds that wouldn’t make way for the sun. She gave them a very formal, weak smile, nodding to both before stepping back. “Starlight. Sunburst.”

“Hi, Cupcake,” he said, trying to return her smile. “How is everything?”

She held him with a cool, penetrating gaze a second longer than was perhaps necessary. “As well as can be expected, I suppose.”

Sunburst only nodded. None of them were there to make small talk. For his part, he still couldn’t believe he was there at all.

Carrot sat in the parlor, and the playpen had been pulled out on the floor nearby. Pound Cake sat within, staring grumpily at the mesh ceiling that had been pulled over it to keep him inside. In Carrot’s embrace, Sunburst could just see a large tuft of orange mane poking out. As Carrot turned towards them, he saw Pumpkin, looking around curiously to see where the new voices where coming from. Her clear, slate-blue eyes fixed on Sunburst, and she gave him the same curious look as before, tilting her head as if trying to get a better view of something.

Sunburst’s heart nearly stopped, and his steps faltered as he made his way towards Carrot. He stopped at the couch, barely able to speak or breath for the painful lump that was forming in his throat. “H… hello again, Carrot.”

Carrot didn’t speak, but gave a slow nod in acknowledgment.

“We’ve talked with Carrot’s family lawyer,” Cupcake said. “He’s agreed that if we’re all okay with it, introductions can be made before any formal work gets started.”

Sunburst took a hesitant step closer. He froze when he saw Carrot recoil. Then Carrot gave a reluctant sigh and glared at Sunburst. “Don’t forget. She’s our daughter just as much as yours. More so. We’re putting a lot of trust in you.”

“I know,” was all Sunburst could think to say. He didn’t think it would have been enough for him, had their places been reversed. Slowly, though, Carrot gave another nod. Then, he carefully extended his forelegs, holding Sunburst’s daughter out to him. For a moment, Sunburst thought his muscles would fail him. They felt starved for air, so on edge were his nerves. Then he sat back, reached out, and took Pumpkin in his own embrace.

She’s so heavy, he thought, blinking hard as tears sprang immediately to his eyes. How can something so small be so heavy? He supposed, however, it made sense. Their lives had been revolving around these foals for so long. They ought to have a little real weight to throw around.

Pumpkin stared up at him, still quizzical, still uncomprehending. Sunburst felt the first small sobs shaking his chest as he tried desperately to keep his breathing under control.

“Hello, Pumpkin,” he choked out. Then, he couldn’t hold it back anymore. He shut his eyes, feeling the tears spill out as soft, gentle sobs shook him. He sniffed hard, not caring what anyone might see or think in that moment. Above it all, though, he was smiling. His smile was so wide, it was almost painful.

Someone sniffed nearby. It was probably Starlight, but he couldn’t be sure. He didn’t open his eyes. He wanted to hold onto that moment. He wanted to sear every detail, every surge of raw emotion into his memory. He didn’t want to ever forget what it was like to finally be allowed to hold her. Some small part of him was even terrified she might be taken away again, and this memory would be all he was left with. He hoped desperately that then, of all times, his memory would keep hold of everything, even though he already knew it never could. Nothing could ever match the reality of that moment, so soon to be over no matter what came next. He held onto it as long as he could.

“Hello Pumpkin,” he repeated when he finally regained some measure of control. When he opened his eyes, he saw that Starlight was indeed trying to cover a shaking smile, her eyes bright with tears. To his surprise, Cupcake was blinking hard too. Even Carrot’s face had softened. While he still looked worried, there was something like understanding in the way he looked at Sunburst now. It was almost as though he recognized something.

Pumpkin poked at Sunburst’s chin, then batted the long beard with a questioning frown. Sunburst gave a small, broken laugh. “Sorry, you don’t know who I am, do you? I’m… I’m your…” Another wave of sobs threatened to cut off his words completely. Before he continued, though, he gave one last glance to Carrot, eyebrows raised in silent question. Carrot’s jaw tightened ever so slightly, but he gave a single, small nod. Sunburst turned back to Pumpkin, taking in every detail of those bright eyes, so near in color to his own. There was no more doubt in his mind. “I’m your dad, Pumpkin.”

Pumpkin’s brows furrowed, and she squinted at him. Sunburst was almost certain she understood him. Then she pointed to him. “Da?”

“Yes,” Sunburst laughed. “Yeah. I’m your dad.”

Pumpkin’s frown deepened, and she pointed back to Carrot. “Da?”

“Yeah,” Sunburst said with a soft chuckle. “He’s your dad too.”

Pumpkin blinked. She tilted her head the other way, scowling at him as if he was pulling some kind of bad joke on her. All he could do was shake his head and smile. “We’ll... explain some other day, Pumpkin.” He pulled her closer, holding her as tightly as he dared. All of that would be sorted out in time. For that moment, Sunburst allowed himself, for the first time, to not worry about it. Right then, he knew he had everything he could ever want.

* * *

“I’m afraid it’s still not enough,” Starlight said, peering down worriedly at the papers spread out in front of her. In light of all the mending that needed to happen between the ponies involved—most especially Carrot and Cupcake—she and Applejack had assumed roles that could only be described as temporary household managers for the Cakes. They handled most of the minutiae of day-to-day living while the Cakes tried to find a new equilibrium. For Starlight, that also meant taking over the administration of the new Sugarcube Corner. And it was to her great dismay that none of them had enough to even come close to building it.

Beside her, Applejack gave the papers a rueful glance, pausing on her way to deposit more laundry in the bedroom for folding. “Are you sure? You factored in the extra lumber, didn’t you?”

“I’ve been over it three times,” Starlight said, shaking her head. “Without the insurance coverage, there’s just no way to replace an entire building. Not before months of living with no income pulls them under.”

“Shoot.” Applejack clenched her teeth, her eyes wandering around the suite as if she were looking for inspiration. “There’s gotta be something more we can do.”

“I’m open to suggestions,” Starlight said, tossing down the quill. She leaned back, spreading her shoulders to work the kinks out of her muscles. “I don’t want to be the one to tell them the Corner isn’t getting rebuilt.”

Applejack gave a short, grim nod in emphatic agreement. Starlight doubted either of them needed to discuss what they thought that might do to the fractured relationship. Its survival was dubious even now. Without that shared goal and purpose, Starlight didn’t think even the best intentions could hold it together.

“What about Sunburst?” Applejack asked hesitantly.

Starlight let out an angry sigh and leaned her face on one hoof. She took a few moments to think before answering. “I mean… it would work. But I don’t want that to be the answer.”

“Why not?” Applejack asked. “I mean, if he’s got the clout, then…”

“It’s not just the money,” Starlight said. “It’s what it’ll cost him. He can’t just take from the treasury and do whatever he wants with it. Rebuilding almost an entire shop out of pocket will put him in debt to the Empire for years. And that’s even if it’s really legal for him to even do it. If anyone asks, he’ll do it without hesitation. But I want to find a solution that doesn’t put so much weight on him. It doesn’t seem fair.”

“Well, no, it doesn’t,” Applejack agreed reluctantly. “But it might be their only chance. We both know Hoops can’t do much. He even offered to quit the team and go to work full time if the Cakes asked him, but they all agreed it wouldn’t come to that. Even if he did, though, he doesn’t make much. I can’t imagine it would be enough.”

“No,” Starlight agreed. “Ugh. I just can’t help but feel like there’s some solution I’m overlooking. Isn’t there anything you can think of I’ve forgotten?”

“Forgotten?” Applejack said with a dry laugh. “Sugarcube, you’ve probably ferreted out ways to help that a certified lawyer wouldn’t have thought of. What in tarnation could we have forgotten by this point?”

It was then that they heard the trumpet.

“What the hay was that?” Starlight asked, standing and tilting her head curiously at the window. Applejack followed her as she went to look out with a puzzled frown.

“No idea. You ain’t expecting one of the princesses or something, are you? That’s about the last thing we need right now.”

“No. At least not that anyone told me.”

“Helloooooooooo, castle ponies!” a high-pitched voice rang out, loud enough that Starlight could see the crystal windows rattle slightly in their frames. It was not a princess’ voice, but the volume it was projected with was probably enough to rival the royal Canterlot voice regardless. “I come bearing stony salvation and tidings of tephrite! Carrot and Cupcake, get thee out here, the new Sugarcube Corner is near!”

“Sweet malty wheat fields,” Applejack gasped as she looked out the window over Ponyville. A moment later, Starlight drew up beside her, and her mouth similarly fell open in shock. Down on the ground beneath them, a ponderous caravan of no fewer than five enormous carts had lined up outside the castle. Most of what they held was covered in dusty tarps, but beneath the edges, Starlight could catch glimpses of huge blocks of stone.

All but one cart was pulled by a pony in varying shades of gray, and to Starlight’s increasing surprise, only one of the haulers was a stallion. He was an Earth Pony, gray-golden in color, who looked almost as ancient as Granny Smith. And at the head of the column, waving up at the window like her life depended on it, was a pink pony whose smile could have been seen from ten times the height at which Starlight and Applejack stood.

“Pinkie Pie,” Applejack laughed. “Sugarcube, we plum forgot Pinkie Pie.”

By the time they exited the castle and ran down the stops to greet Pinkie, a small crowd had started to gather around the caravan, pointing and whispering curiously. Then, Starlight saw Carrot and Cupcake emerge among them, staring at the carts and at Pinkie with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“Aha, there you are!” Pinkie chirped when she saw them. She freed herself from her harness and bounded over to them, enveloping them in such a crushing hug, Starlight though she could hear bones creaking from across the road. “Shoot, I was planning on you two being inside the castle when I showed up! But I guess the surprise still works!”

“Surprise?” Carrot asked breathlessly. “Pinkie, what is all this?”

“Surely thy name cannot be but Carrot Cake,” said a soft, gravelly voice. Starlight turned to see that the old stallion had followed Pinkie, and was now addressing the Cakes with a low bow. “And thou, who art better known to us. Well met, Cupcake.”

“Igneous,” Cupcake said, blinking in surprise. “What are you all doing here?”

“Pinkamena our daughter hath spoken of thy plight, and hath moved our hearts to pity most pious,” Igneous said. “Knowest thou that thy generosity towards her hath not without notice passed, nor thanks; and that we hath of our gratitude heretofore spoken, many a time and oft.”

“Uh…” Carrot blinked in confusion. “...Yes?”

“She has thou sheltered, and given labor; she hast thou taken under the wings of apprenticeship these many moons,” Igneous continued. “ ‘Tis, then, at her pleading that we aid thee.”

Igneous bowed deeply, but Carrot and Cupcake merely stared at him, mouths slightly open in befuddlement.

“He wants to help you guys,” Pinkie whispered loudly behind a hoof.

“This is… for us?” Carrot asked, mouth agape as he stared at the carts. Starlight and Applejack finally managed to make their way over to them.

“Yepperoni! Mr. and Mrs. Cake, behold the new Sugarcube Corner!” Pinkie declared expansively. “Some assembly required. I wanted to bring the whole thing completely built, but daddy said that was silly. I thought that was a point in my favor, but when he makes up his mind…”

“Pinkie, this is too much, we can’t…”

Starlight cleared her throat and glanced around with a sheepish smile. “Well… about that. What exactly did you bring, Pinkie?”

“Enough to rebuild the Corner twice over!” Pinkie declared. “And every block is the Pie family’s absolute finest—hoof-chiseled to a zero-point-zero-zero-three percent margin of error. After what happened, we’re not leaving a gator’s chance in Yakyakistan for the Corner to burn down again! Just try to set fire to these rocks! Only don’t, because it’d be a huge waste of time.”

“Starlight?” Applejack asked.

“I can only put together the roughest estimate right now,” she said, glancing meaningfully at the Cakes, “but even if Pinkie’s underestimating by half, if we refigure the Apple’s donation towards the framing only, this would give you more than enough to rebuild. We’d just need to scrounge up enough money for labor.”

“Labor?” Applejack laughed. “Shucks, if that’s all that’s left, consider it done. We Apples can’t raise a barn out of thin air, but if we’ve got enough to get to work, you just leave it to us. We’ll have the frames raised by the end of the week.”

“Our cousin speaketh words in echo of our own hearts,” Igneous declared. “Under the tutelage of my father, it were by mine own hooves that our homestead was raised, and those skills hath been passed down to each of our daughters in turn. Thou need’st no ponies but what stand before thee.”

“I…” Carrot could only shake his head, flabbergasted beyond words. “We could never repay a gift like this.”

“Speaketh not of debt,” Igneous said firmly. “For this is no simple charity. For thy kindness to Pinkamena, she doth consider thee as nigh unto kin as we ourselves, her own blood relatives. That alone shall serve to justify our aid. For, any whom sweet Pinkamena deems to call family is now, and forever shall be, family to us in turn.”

“Sweetie?” Cupcake asked, looking to Carrot with wide eyes. In answer, he gave a shaky laugh.

“I think I’d be a fool to say no,” he said. “Igneous, no matter what happens after this, we won’t forget it. You can count on that.”

“Then the pact is sealed,” Igneous said soberly. “Let us commence with the labor forthwith and with all haste!”

“Well, how about that,” Applejack said as a the Pie family started to move the carts toward the town square and the vacant lot. “Something actually worked out pretty cleanly for once.”

“After everything that’s happened,” Starlight laughed, “I think everyone deserved that. And it was pretty silly of us, if you think about it.”

“What’s that?”

“We should know better. Never forget Pinkie Pie.”

Applejack gave a slow, serious nod. “Never forget Pinkie Pie.”

Epilogue

Two years later

It was as warm and clear a day as any Ponyville could hope to see. Not a cloud was in sight, and the sunlight made Twilight’s castle glitter and shine in dozens of clear, iridescent colors within its crystal walls. Down below the castle, ponies milled about the town square, going about their business as on any other day. While vibrant, there was nothing unusual happening, and the markets saw only slightly busier throngs of ponies coming, going, and spending their hard-earned bits. And at the edge of the square, standing clean and proud in the place it had occupied since time out of mind, was Sugarcube Corner.

The rebuilt shop had been raised with enormous slabs of warm, brown stone, only a little taller than it had been before, but with a few extra wings added to give the family within more living space. Although the stone had been laid as seamlessly and with as much expertise as only generations of rock farmers could bring, there were a few incongruous spots standing out in its facade. Here and there, little scraps of old wooden walls stood, blended with mortar and stone as cleanly as could be managed. Even so, at the edges of most of those older walls, ponies could still spot faded scorch marks from where the fire had torn away the old building.

Naturally, the Pies had offered to remove the old walls completely, but Carrot and Cupcake had asked if they could be worked into the new structure instead. When asked why, Cupcake would only say that it seemed important. Now, those old sections still remained, almost invisible, but still clear as scars, never to fully fade away. They were almost like permanent reminders of everything that had gone before, as steadfast as the memories that would always be with the ponies who had endured those times.

For her part, Starlight couldn’t decide if the implications were grim or poetic. All in all, though, she supposed it was at least fitting.

“It’s hard to believe how far they’ve come,” Princess Cadence said, following Starlight’s eyes to the Corner.

“I think I’ve only recently started to relax a little, as far as all that’s concerned,” Starlight agreed. “It was touch and go for months. There were days when I thought it really was going to fall apart, even after all the effort they went to.”

“Wounds like that take so much longer to heal than ponies think. And I’ve never seen circumstances to make it so hard as theirs. I confess, I’m relieved too.”

“None of us could have done it without you,” Starlight said, giving Cadence a small smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a counselor as devoted as the one you recommended.”

“Even the strongest among us sometimes need the expertise of others. I’m only glad that it seems to have worked out. They will have trials ahead of them for the rest of their lives, but I think they will make it now. The darkest days are finally behind them.” She turned back to Starlight and returned her smile. “But that’s beside the point, isn’t it?”

Starlight gave Cadence a look of exaggerated annoyance. “No, nothing’s changed between me and Sunburst.”

“Why not?” Cadence pouted.

“It’s just never seems like the right time,” Starlight sighed. “Something’s always coming up either in the Empire or here with Twilight. Life’s kept us busy. And to tell you the truth, I think we’re comfortable with the way things are. Maybe one day, it’ll feel right to grow things a little closer. We’re not in any rush.” She gave a small laugh and shook her head. “Besides, Pumpkin just started magic kindergarten. What with his regular duties and traveling between the Empire and here to see her, he’s not going to have any time to spare for me.”

“Well, if you’re both happy, it’s not really my business to pry,” Cadence admitted primly. “But if I can be that annoying friend for just a little bit longer, don’t take anything for granted too much. It always seems like we have all the time in the world, but we really never know when all the chances will suddenly be gone.”

“I think we understand that better than most,” Starlight said, giving the Corner another glance. Then they lapsed into silence for a little while, making their way back to Twilight’s castle.

“On that note,” Cadence asked carefully, “How are Applejack and Hoops? I was so sad to hear things didn’t work out between them after all.”

“They’re doing alright, as far as I can tell,” Starlight said. “Hoops is always close by in the off season, and he swings by every chance he gets when the team is within train or flying distance. It’s a good thing, too. He’s about the only pony who can keep up with Pound. That little colt is getting more and more reckless when Hoops is away, from what Cupcake tells me. He’s going to be a hoof-ful for a long time to come.”

“No doubt,” Cadence chuckled. “Has he been seeing anypony else in the meantime?”

“Not that I’ve heard,” Starlight shrugged. “Applejack’s seeing someone new though.” She gave Cadence a sly look. “You’re not going to believe who.”

“Who?” Cadence asked, unable to conceal her curiosity.

She really won’t ever quite grow up, Starlight thought with a wry grin. Cadence looked more like a schoolfilly eager for gossip than an Equestrian Princess. “Fleetfoot.”

“Fleetfoot?” Cadence asked, brows shooting up incredulously. “From the Wonderbolts?”

“The one and only,” Starlight laughed.

“Okay, no, you’re right. I would not have guessed that one. How in Equestria did that come about?”

“So, I guess AJ had caught Soarin’s eye at some point, and he asked Rainbow Dash to set something up where they could run into each other,” Starlight explained. “Well, you know Rainbow Dash. She went and set up this sort of community charity event where ponies could race against the Wonderbolts, and she basically dared Applejack that she couldn’t even beat the trainees in a ground race.” Starlight couldn’t help giggling a little as she remembered the event. “Long story short, bad idea. Applejack didn’t just leave the recruits behind, she ran Soarin and everypony else into the dust.”

“I’m not sure I can say I’m surprised,” Cadence laughed. “What did Rainbow Dash think would happen?”

“Not a total shutout like that, I guess. Apparently, Fleetfoot took it especially hard, so she hunted Applejack down afterward for a bit of trash talk or something. Next thing everypony knew, they were dating.”

“Huh… go figure,” Cadence said.

“Yeah. So far, they seem pretty happy together. I guess only time will tell.”

“I suppose it will,” Cadence agreed. “She does seem drawn to competitive types though, doesn’t she?”

“Apparently,” Starlight laughed.

They reached the castle and parted ways inside the foyer. Twilight had set the rest of the afternoon aside for Cadence’s visit, and though they had invited Starlight to join them at the spa and for coffee afterwards, she had declined. It seemed better for the two of them to have their time together, what with how rarely the chance for purely social visits came along. Instead, she made her way to her own rooms, shutting the door behind her as she made her way to the small desk she had set up beneath the window.

Let’s see, she mused, pulling out a drawer and scanning the scattered pages piled up inside. Stages eight and nine of Intrepid’s Incantation of Insight still need the snags worked out of them. Or, The Curse of Eternal Chattering, that one backfired pretty horribly. And there’s always the re-cataloging of the library’s nonfiction. The architectural and archeology sections have been getting especially crowded lately… Yep, there’s plenty to do.

She pulled out Intrepid’s Incantation and gave it a cursory glance as she tried to decide what she felt most up to tackling. As she passed over task after task, though, she started to realize she was already feeling cooped up. She had settled into her work at the castle years ago, but every now and then, she still felt the need to get out and break the routine—and maybe a few nonessential rules—every now and then. As she put the jobs away and pondered what activities she might be in the mood for, she found herself thinking back on her conversation with Cadence.

“It always seems like we have all the time in the world, but we really never know when all the chances will suddenly be gone.”

She frowned, annoyed at how the thought seemed to nag at her, as if the nosy princess of love was still there in the room with her. Even so, she couldn’t help but feel her gaze drawn out over the town to Sugarcube Corner, standing just within sight in the center of town. Carrot and Cupcake might have mostly mended the rift between them over the years, thanks in no small part to their dedication and a good dose of professional guidance. Even so, Starlight still cringed to imagine how close it had all come to ending completely during those insane first days. Out of nowhere, Ponyville’s healthiest and happiest family had been thrown into the worst storm imaginable. It would take a special group of Tartarian demons to think of any worse troubles to throw at them than what they had endured.

Starlight closed the drawer and instead pulled out a clean sheet of stationary. Ink and quill came next, and before she could second-guess herself, she laid out her words in her clearest, most elegant magical script.

Dear Sunburst — I hope this finds you well, and that those Ice Pixies you mentioned have stopped harassing the barrier around the city. Nothing urgent’s been happening down here. I was just wondering if you’ll have any extra time next time you come down to visit…

The End.

Author's Note

This story started off as a joke. It was a random conversation used to burn up the ninth and tenth hours of a twenty-hour road trip back from Bronycon 2017. Obabscribbler, Astro Brony, and myself were headed south on I-95. After going through an entire deck of pony-themed Cards Against Humanity, I think one of the cards must have inspired us to start talking about one of the older, more cynical fan tropes: that Mr. Cake was not the father of Pumpkin and Pound. I remember hearing the idea all the way back when Season 1 aired. Naturally, it was based on the slightly absurd way the characters in the episode explain how an Earth Pony couple has different kinds of children.

Then someone—I can’t be certain who, except that it sure as hell wasn’t me—said that because litters of kittens and puppies often have multiple fathers, why not foals? And just like that, Pumpkin and Pound each had a different father, neither of whom was Carrot. We picked the new fathers based on nothing but their character design. Pumpkin’s father had to be a Unicorn with some brown or orange, and Pound’s had to be a similarly-colored Pegasus. This wasn’t going to be a story by this point, mind; at least, not a written and published one. It was just an insane “what if” discussion, so the more unlikely and absurd the candidates, the better. I can’t remember all of them, but I remember Doctor Stable in particular was rejected early on, because although his color scheme was close, he seemed just a little too boring as a prospect for an accidental affair.

Eventually, we settled on Sunburst and Hoops. The intersection of these characters, coming almost from opposite ends of the show’s timeline, along with the sheer absurdity that either would have an affair with a married character like Mrs. Cake, confirmed it had to be them. The idea was too stupid, and in the context of a fatigued joke conversation, too funny, to choose anyone else. But I still wasn’t interested in the idea as a story. As the discussion went on, though, we started trying to puzzle out just how this could have possibly happened.

Looking back on it, I wish I could remember more about how the conversation actually advanced. I wish I could remember who came up with which idea, which of us came up with a twist that left the others moaning in protest at just how awful we were making these characters’ lives, but I can’t. There was just too much happening. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it was probably one of the best story-building, collaborative brainstorming sessions I’ve ever heard of. And it was entirely by accident.

Most of the bones of the story were laid in that single hour. We decided everything had to have happened at Las Pegasus, because where the hell else? We decided Cupcake was there chaperoning Pinkie to a convention, and she was upset because she didn’t really want to be there. Sunburst would be there because he had flunked out of school, and his friends took pity on him, and Hoops would be there for a celebratory team trip. We knew from the get-go alcohol was involved, and we knew there had to have been agreements at some point that it was all a horrible mistake and would never be spoken of again. One of us suggested that because Sunburst knew he had a daughter and could never see her, it was for that reason he was so attached to Flurry, like she was the daughter he could never really have. And we decided that everything would all go to hell when Sugarcube Corner burned down, completely at random, and made it so the other characters would have to get involved and start finding things out.

This was the point that I finally started to feel the first spark of interest in really exploring the story and actually writing it. For an utterly ridiculous, random idea, there was a lot to unpack about just what would happen to these characters in such a situation. How would each react? What waves and storms throughout their lives brought them to such an unlikely meeting? What would each of them want later? What were the different ways they would try to carry their lives forward? They’re all so massively different in personality, so much so that in the show, they never meet, and have no reason to. The clash that created, I realized, was awesome.

We paused the lengthy road trip at a Walmart. It was pouring rain, and while Astro and Scribbler scurried inside to to resupply, I pulled out my laptop, typed up the gist of our ideas in a hundred words or so in a text file, and had closed it all up again before they got back. By that point, I was pretty much committed, even though I didn’t yet know it. The next morning, I wrote what became chapters 1 and 17—the beginning and end of the story—in the airport lounge.

As I kept thinking about the ideas later, I was surprised to realize the character I was most interested in was Hoops. And that, I think, was what clinched it for me. I don’t think I would have written a word of this if not for him. To me, at first, the obvious role for him would be as the throwaway villain. He was Rainbow Dash’s childhood bully, a vapid, vain, shallow character who, in the show, is never anything but a rude, drawling idiot who exists to be shown up by the main characters. He was the archetypal dumb jock. If I see him in a story, my expectation is that he will be an antagonist. He will be there to be cruel to everyone, the other characters will be proven good just in contrast to how unlikable he is, and by the end, he will be punished by being banished from the cast and absent from the denouement, free to go on being an idiot for eternity. And I realized then that it seemed really unfair.

Something told me right away that Hoops himself would be really unhappy if he was written this way. And I think there was almost a challenge in that. I wanted to really know more about the character I first thought of as simplistic and one-dimensional. I wanted to know what made others in his life want him to be around, not just why the main characters don’t like him. I felt he deserved a chance to grow. And that became the challenge for the entire story. I didn’t want any of the characters to have a shot at being a clear villain. Every single one of them, I was realizing, simply wanted different things, were terrified of different things, and all of them were incompatible.

When we all got home, Astro and Scribbler asked if we wanted to write it up all at once together, co-authoring a Google doc in real time. Instead, I have to admit, I allowed myself to be a bit selfish. By then, I was really interested in the idea, but I also knew I was starting to take it in a different direction than my compatriots in how I wanted to handle many of the characters. So I asked if I could work with it on my own for awhile, with the promise that if I stalled or lost interest, I would come back, share anything I had managed to write, and we would salvage anything worth salvaging and finish it together as originally intended. And they, being the exceedingly generous and gracious friends that they are, allowed me to run away with our idea and do with it what I would.

That the story got finished in the time frame it did is a testament to just how well we laid the groundwork together. There is absolutely no way I would have come up with many of the ideas in the story on my own, let alone structure them. If I’m honest, I would have been afraid to think of most of them. If this story has done one monumental thing for me, it’s been to push me way, way past many of my comfort zones.

Of course, the story grew far beyond our original concepts. Stories do that. Carrot was not sterile in our discussion, and his family was never mentioned. I added in Applejack, because Cupcake needed someone to open up to. Later, I gave Applejack a relationship with Hoops, because the story wasn’t already complicated enough. (She hasn’t forgiven me for it, and I still catch her glaring at me in my imagination when I give the cast another look). One thing we never got to talking about during the road trip was the second half of the story after Carrot learned the truth, so I had to figure that out as well. As for Screed, she came to me while I was browsing a forum about beginning careers in construction. I was looking for inspiration for what was then going to be Hoops’ uncle, and instead found one employee’s fervent testimony about the best site boss he had ever known—a woman who ran the site like an occupying army and the crew like a family. And yes, I did write this story, start to finish. But so much of the story exists because of the ideas we came up with together, and I will eternally be grateful to Astro and Scribbler for the license they gave me to finish everything.

I have no doubt that there are aspects of this incredibly complex and deeply emotional scenario that I have explored imperfectly. Even for a team of writers, representing every perspective, every hurt, and perfect justice and morality would be impossible, and I don’t claim to be anywhere near so wise. Others would have guided these characters to very different ends, or else down countless different paths to that end. And all of it would be legitimate, because there are doubtless real people out there walking all of those paths simultaneously. But what I am confident of having done is said some things I believe to be true, some things I think aren’t said very often, and learned to look at a few issues in ways that were new, at least to me. As a writer, I don’t believe I can aspire to do much more than that.

Thanks are also owed unceasingly to my beta readers:

To Luna Farrowe, who burned through the dang thing so fast and so enthusiastically, it gave me my best hope that maybe I’d put something good together after all;

To Chaotic, whose calm, judicial analysis helped me better understand how the characters were working together, and a few places where they weren’t;

To Neighrator Pony, whose brusque, unyielding support for the story was matched only by the courtesy in which he framed his suggestions;

To AShadowOfCygnus, for his thorough commentary, suggestions, and praise, delivered in only the finest acerbic English tradition, and for soldiering through his unbounded disdain for my choice to include Starlight Glimmer;

Also to UrbanQhoul for creating the beautiful cover art for this story, and to Scribbler for commissioning it as a surprise;

And to my phenomenal wife Amiki, whose unwavering support and encouragement makes everything I work and live for possible.

Lastly, though I might be stretching your patience a bit too far, I want to thank everyone who has read the story, and I do hope it has been of some enjoyment, for all its insanity. The MLP community has been an ongoing source of joy and energy for me for years. Although building these stories has helped me develop my skills, my greatest satisfaction is that crafting a story or two allows me to give back to and grow this community, even if only in a small way. I never know what’s next, but to anyone who’s supported or enjoyed this story, thank you.

Chapter 1 - Bachelors

“There you go, Flurry,” Sunburst said in a voice as gentle, warm, and soft as the velvet blanket he tucked over the little princess. “That should keep you nice and toasty, shouldn’t it? No winter storms will get to this princess, no ma’am!” He bent down and nuzzled Flurry’s nose softly with his own. Flurry giggled and batted him away, giving the ragged end of his long beard an extra swipe for good measure.

“Oh, now.” Sunburst shook his head as he looked down at her, but his smile remained. “None of that. You were supposed to be asleep half an hour ago! Feisty little thing.”

He tucked the covers a little more tightly around her, but froze when her horn sparked. A few small pops and golden flashes sizzled, then faded to nothing. Flurry gave the blanket a glare, then turned her irritated gaze back to Sunburst.

“See? You’re all tuckered out,” he said, unable to keep his relief from showing. Getting Flurry to bed when she still had energy to pour into random spells was nothing shy of an agility course. “So don’t give me that look. I’ll bet you can’t even hold back a yawn, can you?” Sunburst mimicked a wide yawn, though by the end of it he felt himself yawning for real. His aching muscles reminded him of the chase Flurry had led him on earlier. At least, he reflected, I seem to be keeping up with her better lately. While he had never, ever been a stallion anypony could call physically strong, even his reluctant muscles had taken on a thin layer of toning from chasing after Flurry. He’d even lost several pounds of flab since volunteering to help take care of Flurry for Cadence, and he was more than a little proud of how his robes hung more loosely than they had before.

Flurry kept her stern glare on him for a few more moments. Then, her face twisted a little before she scowled and buried her head under the covers—though not before she’d let the beginnings of a long, gaping yawn of her own show. Sunburst only shook his head again, chuckled gently, and lowered the shades of the crystal lamps around the room. “Goodnight, little snowflake,” he said, then turned and trotted quietly to the door. Behind him, Flurry let out a few incoherent, disgruntled noises and buried herself deeper in the blankets. She would yield the battle to him that night, but she would be all the more determined to make him pay for it tomorrow.

“Thank you, Sunburst,” Shining Armor said as he let him out of the nursery and closed the door softly behind him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. I have an easier time browbeating recruits than I do with Flurry whenever Cadence has to leave.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble,” Sunburst said, waving a dismissive hoof as he followed Shining down the hall.

“Well, actually. About that,” Shining said, a small frown crossing his lips as he glanced sideways at Sunburst. “We’ve both been meaning to talk to you about something.” For his part, Sunburst felt his heart skip a beat.

“Did I do something wrong, Prince Armor?”

“No, no,” Shining said, shaking his head. “Nothing like that. You’re the best godfather a filly could ask for. Or her parents, for that matter. But we’re worried you’re letting us put too much of it on you. Your work as court wizard goes a long way beyond foalsitting the princess.”

“Oh.” Sunburst frowned, his eyes wide with genuine puzzlement as he stared into the distance. “I certainly haven’t felt that way. I have plenty of time to pursue my research. I have my office hours for the citizens, and you and Cadence always know how to find me for official business. I haven’t felt any encumbrance on my schedule.”

“Are you sure? Don’t get me wrong, we’re incredibly grateful for all the help. We’re just concerned you don’t have much time for… well, for you outside of all these responsibilities you’ve taken on for us.”

“That’s very considerate of you. But really, my responsibilities are me these days. In a good way!” he added hastily, seeing Shining’s frown deepen. “Even before I came here to the Crystal Empire, I was… lost. In a lot of ways.” His eyes wandered to the floor, a shadow falling over his heart and darkening his expression. “I came here to make a fresh start and… escape some old wounds, I guess. And thanks to you, Cadence, and little Flurry, I’ve done that. I’ve gone from just being a random catalog of information to having a focus for all my knowledge. A direction to apply everything. It’s almost everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“Almost?” Shining asked. “So you are more than just your work.”

Mentally, Sunburst cursed himself for the slip of his tongue. Why can’t I just say the right things? “Really, Shining, there’s nothing more I could want that you can give. My studies have meaning again, and Flurry’s… well, she’s almost like the daughter I never got to have,” he finished, swallowing a sudden painful lump in his throat. He had already broken down in tears when Shining and Cadence named him as Flurry’s godfather; he didn’t need to get all weepy now.

“But that’s part of what Cadence and I were worried about. We’re afraid we’re not leaving you enough time to pursue your friendships or tend to any family you might have… or want. Like that friend of yours, Star… Starlight… what was her name?”

“Starlight Glimmer,” Sunburst said. He felt his nerves cool a little, and he made a conscious effort to keep his smile steady.

“Right!” Shining exclaimed, nodding his head emphatically. “She’s been up here a few times to see you. Don’t you want to go down to Ponyville sometime and pay her a visit too?”

This time, Sunburst knew his smile slipped. He turned away and gave a weak chuckle, hoping it would hide the sudden fracture. “Oh… well. Ponyville’s so far away. It’s not just Flurry. I don’t think I could put any of my duties on hold for that long. It’s just not very practical.”

“Oh, come on,” Shining said, leaning a little closer. “We can manage for a week or two without you if you want. You’ve certainly earned it. And besides…” he stepped even closer, giving Sunburst a good-natured, yet unmistakably sly grin. “Cadence thinks Starlight’s hoping you’ll notice her a little more. And I know I’ve caught you smiling more than usual around her.”

“Oh…” Sunburst chuckled again, a little more raggedly than before. He kept his eyes busy looking anywhere but at Shining Armor.

Shining, meanwhile, blinked, and his smile fell a little. He stepped back, suddenly looking a bit abashed, as if worried he might have gone too far. “I mean… it’s your business, Sunburst. I’m not trying to intrude. But you’re a great guy, seriously. Cadence and I are honored to count you among our friends. You deserve to go for a deeper relationship if you both want it.” He gave a short, shy laugh and blushed a little as he looked away. “You two would make an adorable couple, is all.”

“Thanks,” Sunburst said. The remains of his smile were now little more than a pained grimace. In his chest, there was a cold lump of lead where his heart should be. “But I’m not… It’s just, I don’t think I’m… well, looking for that kind of thing at the moment. Not really ready for it, if you understand.”

Shining did not look like he understood. If anything, he looked more confused than ever. But a moment later, he nodded, and his eyes were apologetic. “Sure. I’m sorry, Sunburst. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No apologies necessary, Your Highness,” Sunburst said, returning Shining’s nod. “It’s very kind of you to look out for me. I do appreciate it. But as for Starlight… I guess I have everything I think I ought to have right now.”

Shining gave Sunburst another concerned glance. He didn’t seem comfortable with Sunburst’s tone, but it seemed he was ready to let the matter go. “By the way,” he said, clearly changing the subject, “I brought you today’s mail. We finally got the shipment from the south. The trains broke through the snow in the pass early this morning.”

“Ah, thank goodness,” Sunburst said, accepting the small bundle of envelopes gratefully. “I was starting to think we’d have to wait till spring to re-establish contact.”

“Never a dull day, this far north,” Shining chuckled.

“Uh… yeah,” Sunburst agreed absently, no longer hearing a word Shining said. His eyes were fixed on the writing on the topmost envelope. “Uh… I need to go through some of these. I’ll see you tomorrow, Your Highness.”

“Oh… alright,” Shining said, clearly taken aback as Sunburst scurried away down another hall. “Have a good night, Sunburst.”

Sunburst didn’t even wait to reach the safety and privacy of his chambers. As soon as he was alone, he tore the bundle apart and let most of the envelopes scatter to the floor. Holding the one that had caught his eye in his magic, he shredded the top and yanked the contents out with almost enough force to rip them. As his eyes darted over the words, each line made his face lose shade after shade of color until he was nearly as white as the paper he stared at.

He stood there frozen for several minutes. His eyes were unmoving, but his mind was racing with the force of a gale, assembling and rearranging information in a mental display that would have nauseated any other pony. “That won’t work,” he said to himself, verbally working through what little his mind couldn’t hold. “But… there’s another way to fix this. That… just might do the trick.”

* * *

“Ow!” Score rubbed his nose where the paper had smacked him. “What the hay, Hoops?”

“Nice try, bro,” Hoops said. His voice was loud and languid, his vowels almost as elongated and meandering as the sprawl of his body as he lay on the largest sofa in the room. The sofa looked not only like it had seen better days, but as if it now longed for the sweet release of the landfill before it had to endure more of the life it knew. Several empty cans of cheap beer lay sideways on the stained carpet below, the only evidence of their contents being the smell of Hoops’ breath as he stared up at his roommate. “I know you wrote that.”

Score grimaced at the rumpled letter on the floor. He looked mildly offended at the presence of any printed material in their home. “The hay is this?”

“Nice. Try. Bro,” Hoops repeated, leaning a little further back into the woebegone sofa. “I’ll give it to you, you almost got me. But…” He gave a long, self-satisfied sigh. “You’re going to have to get out of the nest a lot earlier than that to fool old Hoops.”

Score’s expression of offense deepened as he plucked the letter from the floor with two feathertips. His eyes moved slowly back and forth, his lips twitching as he silently read to himself. Then, his eyes widened and his jaw dropped a little. “Dude. Seriously, I did not have anything to do with this.”

“Not falling for it!” Hoops sang.

“I’m serious! I mean… maybe it was Dumbbell, or something. But how do you know it’s a prank?”

“I just know, Score,” Hoops said, waving a lazy hoof in a circle. “Look, if there was any real chance of… that, I’d know. I mean, geez, we’ve been hanging together since Junior Speedsters. You know everything I know.”

Score looked down at the letter again. “Yeah, but I mean, that’s why I was worried.” Hoops could see his eyes laboring slowly over the page, as if he was trying to find something. “ ‘Cause weren’t you seeing that one mare in the town it’s talking about? Same place Rainbow’s from?”

“Old Rainbow Crash? Yeah, she’s around there too.” Hoops felt his brow furrow as a fresh spike of irritation hit him. “Huh. Wonder if she’s the one behind it.”

“Maybe? But Hoops, seriously, is there even a chance this is real? You know coach’s policy on this sort of thing. If the team found out, your duffel’d be hitting the back of your head on your way out.”

“Score. Listen. For the last time,” Hoops said, frowning as he lifted a long, lank lock of his brown mane. “It’s a prank. Whichever of you guys wrote it didn’t even get my fillyfriend’s name right. That’s how I know it’s fake.”

He leaned back and closed his eyes, pushing away his annoyance that Score wouldn’t just fess up and laugh about it. He could still feel the initial spike of adrenaline searing through his arteries from when he had first read the letter, the surge of fear that had broken through his lackadaisical afternoon. It had scared the sunlight out of him, but he wasn’t about to let either of his roommates have the satisfaction of knowing that. And he sure as hay wasn’t about to let it bother him any longer than it already had.

I don’t owe anypony any money, he thought with a slight scowl, turning his attention away from Score. And I most definitely do not have foals.

Chapter 9 - Lonely Roads

“Have you ever noticed mornings are colder when you have to travel?” Sunburst asked, pulling his legs in a little tighter to try and keep warm.

“It does seem that way sometimes, now that you mention it,” Starlight said quietly. “It’s humid today, too. We’ll probably have more rain later.”

Sunburst doubted she was wrong. The sky was smothered in muddled, soupy clouds, heavy and gray with damp that seemed to filter invisibly down and drench every surface with tickling moisture. He rubbed it out of his beard for the fourth time, frowning as he realized he had left a little mud behind instead.

Starlight helpfully floated a napkin over and dried away the spots of dirt and dew. Her mane was frizzy with the humidity, and she poked at it listlessly as she sat waiting for the train with him. Finally, she took a breath and asked the question she had been stumbling over all morning. “What do you think will happen now?”

Sunburst shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Starlight turned away and stared down at the empty tracks. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about,” Sunburst said with a soft, hollow laugh. “This probably would have turned out a lot worse without your help. At least for me.”

“I meant I just wish none of it was happening. To any of you. I keep trying to figure who’s really at fault, but… I just end up going in circles. I probably shouldn’t even try.”

Sunburst sighed. “I’m not sure if there are any answers. But it’s up to Carrot and Cupcake now.”

“That’s not fair,” Starlight countered. “Pumpkin is your daughter too, Sunburst. You have a right to be a part of this. You always did. Cupcake shouldn’t have made you feel like you needed to disappear from the country just to protect her.”

“Cupcake saw it differently. And she made a decent point. It was protecting Pumpkin too. From this. Besides, who was I to try to have a part in anything? Just some stallion looking for a good time one night. Not exactly the sort of pony you want around your daughter.” He let out a long sigh and hung his head. Wet strands of his mane fell free and dangled in his eyes. “And she was right, wasn’t she? As long as I stayed in the Empire, things were okay. Then I saw a chance to maybe get what I wanted, and I leapt at it. Now look at where things have gotten.”

“But it wasn’t okay before. I mean, sure, things were peaceful. I might understand why Cupcake choose to handle things the way she did, but... it was still wrong. Now, she’s finally taken the chance to be honest about all this. She and Carrot can really be open with each other again. This may be a disaster, but in a strange way, I think it’s better that it happened.” She let out a long breath, and it turned to mist in the cold air around her, swirling around her face and mane for a few seconds like tiny ghosts. “Ponies can only hide from their pasts for so long.” She turned to Sunburst and fixed him with a determined, questioning stare. “But I want to know what you want. If you could make any outcome for this, what would it be?”

“Any outcome?” Sunburst asked. “One where I didn’t break my daughter’s family apart, I suppose. One where everything could go back to normal.”

“Where you’re in this self-imposed exile?” Starlight pressed.

“If that’s the way it has to be.”

“I don’t believe you,” Starlight said, shaking her head. “I don’t think you really want that.”

“It’s not about what I want, Starlight. It’s about what’s right.”

Somewhere in the south, a long, low howl of a whistle sounded, worming through the valley and echoing off the mountains before sinking down into the silent grass. Sunburst unconsciously pricked up his ears, but he couldn’t hear any other sign of the approaching train. It was still too far away. Then he heard Starlight’s strained, shaking breathing, and when he looked over, he saw that her face was scrunched up in grief, her eyes closed and pressing out a few bright tears.

“Starlight?”

“There’s nothing right about pretending you don’t matter,” she said, her breath catching as she tried to keep her voice steady.

Sunburst stared at her, at a loss for words. She didn’t look up at him. Slowly, and with a few hesitating pauses, he reached out and wrapped his foreleg around her shoulders, pulling her close as he felt the first distant rumblings of the train in the ground below.

* * *

Cupcake leaned against the wall, staring out of the floor-to-ceiling window that dominated the parlor. The sun had risen more than two hours ago, but it had only been visible for a few minutes while it lingered in the sickly, choking fog between the horizon and the overcast sky. She was painfully aware of each slow breath, the way it seemed to take an eternity to move air out of her lungs, only to make way for a new load. Somewhere, a clock was ticking, most likely the one in the bedroom. She thought it had to be running slow. She could never remember seconds taking so long to pass.

She hadn’t bothered to turn on any lights. She had expected the morning light would be more than enough to fill the rooms, just like it had every day over the past weeks. Instead, the light inside looked starved, almost gaspingly pale as it struggled to fill the enormous space. It couldn’t even come close. Enormous shadows swathed the far corners and walls like black velvet curtains, leaving everything empty and cold. It didn’t bother Cupcake, though. To her, it was just space, too unimportant to think about. A lot of things weren’t important enough to think about now. It didn’t matter that Ponyville looked so lifeless and drained of color when it didn’t make her sad.

No, she thought with a small spark of curiosity. It doesn’t make me happy, or sad, or… anything. It was like looking at a dusty old photograph on an antique store shelf. It was simply… there. Empty of any significance or emotion. A sight, nothing more.

She had lost the capacity to be moved. When all the shame and misery had drained out of her, nothing had been left to fill her in its place. She felt stiff and heavy, like a doll going through the motions without understanding or remembering any of them. It ought to have felt better than the crushing anguish she had known ever since Sunburst had reappeared, but it didn’t. It was just a different kind of wrongness to carry around and endure.

Endure. What else was there left to do? Carrot hadn’t returned after storming out, and no one had seen him since. Like Applejack’s beau, he had apparently vanished, to what end nopony knew.

“He’ll come back,” she told the glass quietly. “Tonight. He’ll be back tonight. We’ll talk. We’ll…”

Her words broke off as the shell of the doll cracked. She couldn’t imagine facing him, couldn’t plan out what to say or how to convince him of how desperately she wanted him back. If she tried, the scalding agony of that sorrow, still too raw to bear, threatened to overwhelm her again.

I... I hit him.

Somehow, the memory felt wrong, a sensation that felt like some form of mental food poisoning. It was an act almost totally contrary to everything she thought of as being herself.

In that moment, when Carrot had turned his anger towards Pumpkin and Pound, all she had known was a sudden surge of ferociously defensive maternal instincts. Even in all her worst imaginings of what might happen when the truth came to light, she had never dreamed of him turning on the foals, or painting them with such a horrific slur so casually... so hatefully.

“Bastard foals.”

In that moment, he had almost seemed like a threat, like something dark and angry that could hurt the foals out of sheer spite if given the chance. She had barely recognized him. And in that moment, she had given herself to those instincts without reservation. Those same instincts that, long ago, had told her to get Sunburst as far away from all of them as possible.

He had lost control, and so had she.

But while those things were true, she was beginning to feel they had also been an excuse. They had given her an escape. It had been a way to stop sitting beneath the barrage and actually do something. She had acted on emotional instinct. And once again, it had gone horribly wrong.

A shaky breath, a calming sigh. Once again, the feelings were buried in a shallow grave. It would let her endure until something changed.

It was all she had left.

In the next room, Pound started to whine. It wasn’t his cry of distress, or pain, or hunger. Those she knew well enough. He was curious, calling out for someone, wondering why he and Pumpkin had been left alone so long. Neither of them liked it when it was quiet. They got bored so easily. Mechanically, she turned and walked towards the bedroom. She would swap out the toys, and hopefully that would distract them for awhile longer. She didn’t know if she could do more than help them fend for themselves today. It would have to be enough.

As she walked towards the playpen, she tried her best not to look at the enormous bed against the other wall. It was too big, and she could never fill it without feeling the vast emptiness it wrapped her in. The most unimaginable thing would be enduring that again later that night.

“He’ll come back. Tonight. He’ll be back tonight.”

And what if he isn’t?

Pumpkin Cake looked up at her, eyes wide and a puzzled frown holding her mouth just a little open. It was almost like she was the one asking what they would do if Carrot didn’t come home. Cupcake slumped down on the other side of plastic mesh of the playpen, resting her forehead against the flimsy wall.

“I don’t know, sweetie. I don’t know.”

* * *

“Last crop of honeycrisp,” Applejack called out over the market, again trying to project more of her usual enthusiasm. It wasn’t working. “Seven baskets left, won’t last the week. Get ‘em while you can.”

“Two bags, please,” Cheerilee requested, trotting up to the stall. “I can’t believe you’re already almost sold out.”

“Heh, yeah,” Applejack said, sweeping the little gold-and-red apples out of the baskets and into the canvas sacks Cheerilee offered. “We’re a little shocked at how crazy ponies are going over them. We’re doing the best we can to bring in a few more trees for them, but they don’t grow as well here in Ponyville as we’d like. Still, we should be able to sell a little more each year.”

“I won’t complain about that!” Cheerilee said, happily shouldering the bags with Applejack’s help. As she slid a few bits onto the stall counter, however, she looked at Applejack with concern. “Is everything alright, Applejack? You look worn out.”

“Do I?” Applejack asked with a slight chuckle. She fidgeted with her hat, straightening it and then returning it to its usual rakish angle. “Last few days have run a bit long is all. I’m fine as fine can be, don’t you worry.”

“That’s good. I’ll see you soon, then. Don’t forget, family night at the school is next Friday!”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Applejack called after Cheerilee. As soon as the teacher was out of sight, Applejack’s smile slid off her face like a harness falling to the ground. “A few long days? That’s the understatement of the week.” She shook her head. Cheerilee had been the fourth pony that morning to ask if anything was wrong. She knew she didn’t have her usual energy for calling out the wares to the milling shoppers, but it couldn’t be that obvious, could it? Then again, she thought ruefully, glancing at the rather paltry pile of bits in the till, maybe I am worse for wear than I thought.

“Hey, Applejack.”

Applejack glanced up with a start. She hadn’t heard anyone walk up. “Oh! Howdy, Starlight. You, uh... You need any apples?” She waved towards her wares, trying halfheartedly for a show of normalcy.

“No, thank you,” Starlight replied, stepping to the side so as to give way to any interested customers. “I just saw you were working today, and I wanted to ask if you were doing okay.”

Applejack let out a long sigh and let her shoulders droop a little. That makes five. Nevertheless, she kept her head held high as she nodded in appreciation to Starlight. “Heh. I don’t know. I guess I’m doing as well as can be expected, I suppose. What about you?”

Starlight’s eyes were lined with dark rings, and there was no small amount of redness to them either. “I don’t think I know either,” she said, giving Applejack a shaky smile. “I’m probably about the same. Sunburst is on his way back to the Crystal Empire, so I’m headed back to the castle.” She bit her lip, looking around for a moment before continuing. “Did you… did you manage to talk to Hoops at all last night?”

Applejack felt her eyes narrow, then shook her head before Starlight might worry the anger was directed at her. “Couldn’t track down hide nor hair of him for hours. Then I finally found out from the ticket office that he hopped a train. They wouldn’t tell me where. I think he mentioned he has an aunt somewhere out east he visits now and again. Maybe he decided to hole up there for awhile.”

“He actually ran away?” Starlight asked. “After just leaving you without a word, he actually ran to another town to hide?”

Applejack shrugged. “Looks that way.”

“Oh my… Applejack, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Applejack set her lip in a firm line, scanning the crowd for any potential customers. “If that's how he’s decided to deal with this, then let him.”

“That… Applejack, you can’t be alright with that.”

“Don’t matter whether I am or not. He’s gone.”

Starlight was looking at her, teeth set in a nervous grimace. She seemed to be trying to decide how to fix things. Applejack gave a small huff and went back to searching the crowds. She didn’t need ideas about how to fix things. There was real work to be done.

“You could… you could go after him,” Starlight suggested.

“What good would that do? Like I said, I’m not even sure what city he ran to.”

“Well… he can’t just run away from all this,” Starlight said incredulously. “He can’t just run away from you. What kind of pony would do something like that?”

“My point exactly.” Applejack turned and gave Starlight a stern stare. “Ponies have been warning me about him ever since we started seeing each other, and I gave him every chance to show me he was better than that. And up until yesterday, I thought he was. I really did. But yesterday…”

She turned away from Starlight, took up position behind the counter, and stood as tall and straight as a Wonderbolt drill sergeant. “It’s one thing to panic. It’s another to run to another town so you won’t have to face consequences of what you’ve done. If he’s the kind of pony that can do that, then he ain’t the pony I thought he was.”

“So… you’re done with him?”

Applejack’s eyes narrowed the tiniest fraction of an inch. Whatever hurt Hoops had left her with was buried beneath the weight of her anger. “Looks that way.”

* * *

Hoops swung himself off the couch and walked into the kitchen for the tenth time that hour. To vary the routine a little, he went straight back to the couch instead of making a circuit around his aunt’s bedroom. Unfortunately, with nowhere else to go, it just cut his restless roving short. He ground his teeth in frustration and sat down on the couch again. He scooted over, trying to find a spot on the cushions that hadn’t been pressed flat as pancakes. Failing that, he prodded the thin fabric, not even knowing what he was trying to accomplish. Even that was futile. The sofa seemed to have petrified sometime in the previous decade, and he doubted he’d be able to change it even if he took a hammer to it.

He got up again. This time, he set a route to follow the walls as closely as possible until he got back to where he started. The carpet was as thin and hard as the sofa, and about the same shade of gray, now that he looked at it. He could feel the very grains of the wood beneath with every step. By the feel of it, he thought it might have petrified as well.

The apartment was as old and hard a relic of Manehattan as the catacombs beneath the city. It was so small, he could cross it in only a few paces, and the ceiling was so low, he could feel his mane brushing it as he paced. There was only a single frosted glass globe hanging in the middle for light, and the bulb inside was burned out. Threadbare curtains covered both the window in the main room and the smaller sliver of glass in the bedroom, though they probably weren’t necessary. There was enough smoke and grime plastered over the outside that only the thinnest, grayest light filtered in from outside.

It was stiflingly hot, and the tomb-still air did nothing to wick away the thin film of sweat he’d worn since walking in late the night before. There was a narrow bed in the other room, a heavy dent sunk in the middle of it that traced the habitual sleeping posture of the pony who used it. A short chest of drawers sat opposite, painted, of all colors, a faded, flaking gray. Aside from the microscopic kitchen and the even smaller bathroom, that was the extent of his aunt’s apartment.

For a Pegasus, it was a fair representation of Tartarus. For one as big as Hoops, it was like being buried alive. There was nothing to do, nothing to interact with, nothing even to watch or read. Outside, he could hear the chugging, rattling din of the city. A hundred voices floated through the air with not a word to be heard clearly. The clatter of hooves and wheels and bells was laced all around like arsenic. Somewhere, a saxophone that sounded like it had been dented in more than one place was being haltingly played. If only the song had been good, he might have been able to at least focus on that instead of his own thoughts and ever-present fear.

Instead, he could do nothing but dwell on it as he sat on the sofa and scooted from one side to the other. The letter had been real. Real. He had a foal. As if that wasn’t a death sentence in and of itself, his fillyfriend knew right off the bat. As far as he was concerned, his life was officially over.

Shit, he recited listlessly to himself. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit…

He stood and tried to pace some more. He couldn’t believe he had shown the letter to Applejack. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t taken it seriously. And now, everything was gone. And I even kind of… liked Applejack, he thought, staring up at the shadows of dead bugs in the lamp. But that relationship was done now too. If there was one thing he knew, it was that there weren’t many things fillies ran from faster than a stallion with a foal dragging him down. Not that I’ll have time for that after this, anyway.

Glancing around the apartment, he realized this might be the best he could expect for his life from now on. It wouldn’t be long before the mare’s lawyers tracked him here, after all. After that, there would probably be at least a few rounds in court, if half of what he had heard about situations like his were true. He would be saddled with all the costs for that, and afterwards, most of whatever he earned would go into foal support. I’ll be lucky to have a bit to my name ever again. His days trying to get into the professional leagues were over, that was certain. He’d need to work full time and even overtime at the factory just to make enough for food after what the kid would take from him.

The whirlwind of probable outcomes filled him with a hot wave of despair. It’s not fair! he screamed inside, struggling to keep from punching the couch until it broke in half. It’s not my fault. I don’t have anything to do with this! How was I supposed to know she’d get pregnant? It’s her fault, not mine! Stupid bitch shouldn’t have pulled me into her room if she didn’t want to deal with foals.

“How could I be so stupid?” he groaned, burying his face in his hooves. Belatedly, he realized he was getting a pounding headache.

A few seconds later, a key scratched in the lock of the door. By the time the door creaked open, he had leaned back into a casual sprawl. He couldn’t manage to pull a nonchalant expression together, but he hoped his scowl would pass for being tired from the train ride. It wasn’t like it was possible to sleep on the slab of a couch, anyway.

“Who’s being stupid?” His aunt spoke with an intense, low voice, as pointed and direct as steel. A paper bag hung behind her long, clenched teeth, and another was slung over her wide back. As she stepped into the small apartment, she stretched out one huge, gray, leathery wing and nudged the door shut again.

“Huh?” Hoops asked, startled in spite of himself.

Screed rolled her eyes and carried the grocery bags into the kitchen. “This is Manehattan, Hoops. The walls are thin as paper. Try to keep that in mind. Old Mrs. Canner on the third floor is a real hag when it comes to noise in the building. So.” She started sorting the groceries into various cupboards, each almost totally empty until she started filling it. “Who’s being stupid?”

“Uh… n-no one,” Hoops said. He flicked his mane disdainfully as he turned away, letting out an annoyed huff. If Screed even heard his answer, Hoops got no sign of it. Soon enough, the extra food she had bought for his visit was packed away. Her hooves walked a well-worn track across the floor, and when Hoops looked up, she was staring down at him with a single dark eyebrow arched. He sighed and scooted to the other side of the couch, and without a word, she settled herself onto her haunches beside him. She held an enormous red apple gripped precariously in the small claws of her wing, and she took a few quick, snipping bites from it as he watched. Sensing his gaze, she turned and tilted her head questioningly.

“Apple?” she asked stoically, raising the torn fruit a little higher. “I bought plenty.”

“No,” Hoops said, his frown deepening. “Not hungry.”

Without giving him another glance, Screed turned forward again and stared at the wall, stealing a nip at the apple every minute or so. This went on for nearly ten minutes, her sitting impossibly still, Hoops fidgeting every other second. They didn’t exchange a single word, and only the soft, crisp mashing of the apple broke the constant cacophony of the city noise outside. Hoops would have given anything for a stray fly to be buzzing around. At least he could have watched that with some semblance of distracted entertainment.

“So…” he said. “How’s the company?”

Screed shrugged. “We’re doing fine. No shortage of demand. We’re working on five different towers around the city. Laying the foundation of the newest one tomorrow.” She frowned slightly, regarding the apple with the thinnest glare. “We did have one of our contractors cancel a lumber shipment. That’ll set us back. But it’s nothing we can’t replace.”

“Good,” Hoops replied, giving a casual nod. “Good.”

Once again, they lapsed into silence. When she finished the apple, Screed gently perched the core on the edge of the sofa and folded her wing behind her back. “So. What’s the plan?”

Hoops shrugged. “Not really much of a plan. I just needed a place to crash while I figure some stuff out.”

Screed nodded slowly, still staring at the wall. “You in trouble?”

Hoops knew his heart skipped a beat, but he pushed through it. “Nah. Nothing like that.”

One of Screed’s tufted ears twitched, but otherwise, her expression didn’t change as she nodded again. “Want to talk about anything?”

“No. Thanks, but it’s cool.”

“How long you gonna stay?”

“Uh… I don’t really know. Probably not long, I guess.”

“Need a job?”

Again, Hoops felt something constrict in his chest. He probably would, if things played out the way he was sure they would. He knew the hours Screed kept, and one thing was certain—he would never lack hours on the job. It was hours for sleep he was terrified he’d never have again. “No. I’ve got the factory. You know. Back home.”

“They know you’re taking time off?”

No. “Yeah.”

Screed gave a final nod. “Alright then.” She stood and followed the path back to her bedroom. “I’m getting some shut-eye. If I’m going to take a sick day to host you, I’m going to get some good out of it.”

“Sure.” Hoops glanced around at the walls again as he heard his aunt settling between the old sheets. Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe. “I might go out soon. Get some fresh air.”

“Don’t get lost.”

Hoops felt his ears fall flat at that. “Too late,” he whispered.

* * *

He could hear her washing dishes when he opened the door to the suite. The water sounded like it was running full blast, and he could hear the occasional clangor of ceramic as she laid bowls and cups aside. By the the rhythm, he knew almost without thinking that the twins had just finished their breakfast, and Cupcake was finishing the morning cleanup before they all settled into their routine for the day.

With a dull pang, Carrot knew that routine would not be happening.

He walked inside with mechanical, measured steps. He could feel the agony his legs were in, and there was a splitting pain in his head somewhere behind his burning eyes. He wasn’t exactly sure of how long he had been gone, but if the twins had just had breakfast, he knew the number was easily in excess of twelve hours. Only one thing was important, though—he had been gone long enough to be too tired to fully recognize the pain. He could move, and the burning protest of his muscles was hazy and indistinct, almost background noise. Behind that, somewhere, was the real pain. At long last, that too had faded to a point where he could ignore it.

Cupcake heard him and turned from the sink. Her expression was a mixture of relief and apprehension that was hard to look at. “Carrot,” she said, letting out a breath that sounded like it had been held for hours. A wavering line of a smile flickered across her face for just an instant, then vanished as a more sober, braced look took its place. “You’re… you’re back.”

Carrot stared at her for several seconds. For an instant, he didn’t even recognize her, and he couldn’t remember her name. It was like he was looking at a stranger who had suddenly happened across his path, and he spent a few moments trying to figure out just what exactly he was supposed to do. Then he gave a slow nod. “…yeah.”

Cupcake looked like she wanted to say something else, but hesitated. She looked just a little away from his eyes a moment later, as if she was checking to see if the door had shut properly behind him. “Um…” But once again, her voice died.

Carrot felt a flicker of annoyance flare up that he didn’t have the energy to sustain. He turned away from her and walked to the windows overlooking Ponyville. Now that he wasn’t looking at her, she seemed to gain a little more confidence. “Where were you?” There was no accusation in her voice. In fact, by the mincing tone, it sounded as if she expected to be accused of something the minute she broke the spell of silence and drew attention to herself.

“Nowhere,” Carrot said, his voice listless and quiet. “Everywhere. I don’t really know.”

“You… you were gone all night,” Cupcake said. She didn’t try to leave the kitchenette and approach him. “I was worried.”

He didn’t reply to that. What did she want? An explanation? An apology? The question was a little ridiculous. Where else could he have possibly gone except nowhere? They had nowhere in Ponyville to go except this little stolen space, and last night, he hadn’t been able to stand being near it. Near her.

The Sugarcube Corner was gone. There was no shelter to be had there. So, he had drifted. He had shut down completely, then wandered in a stupor until his body couldn’t handle it anymore. He had vague memories of it getting dark, of the road rising and falling as he followed it thoughtlessly, refusing to think about what had happened. He had simply exerted himself, waiting for something to change. He supposed eventually he must have slept, though he couldn’t really remember lying down anywhere or getting up afterwards.

“Carrot?”

It was after he had finally managed to shut down, a few hours into the empty wandering, that he had finally started to look at what had happened. He couldn’t approach it, but he could look at it from a distance, almost clinically, looking for some flaw in the story that would make it all out to be some kind of mistake. After that, he’d had ample time to replay the conversation a hundred times over, memorizing every detail, every word Cupcake had said that turned the illusion of his comfortable, full life to ash.

Each time, he’d looked a little closer, piecing it together with little clues or suspicions he could remember from the past. Every repetition was like cutting a little more into a paper cut, slicing just a hair deeper, the pain becoming almost familiar and routine. He could stand it that way, and finally, he had grown numb to every aspect of the memories. He could replay them now without stumbling to the side of the road and bawling like a trampled foal. He could accept that what he had heard was the truth.

Pumpkin and Pound were not his children. There was a strange, hateful comfort in that, he had realized. Any guilt he had ever felt over being irritated with them when they cried an entire night through, that wasn’t his fault. Any errant wish he’d had to live a quieter life again, free of the burdens of parenthood? That was only one of many seedling suspicions of what he ought to have seen all along.

He was a dupe, a host to a pair of parasites those cowbirds of a Pegasus and Unicorn had left in his nest. All the relief he had felt at Cupcake’s pregnancy, his elation at having finally given her what she wanted, was all a sham. Oh, she got what she wanted, alright. She just didn’t need me. Probably never did.

A wailing, desperate voice in Carrot’s head was still trying to protest that not all of that was true. Cupcake had said she still loved him, hadn’t she? Even sitting next to that Unicorn with the wealth and power of an Empire at his beck and call, she had said it. That had to amount to something.

That’s just her trying to save face, he thought bitterly. If she could have gotten it without getting caught, you can bet I’d be out on the streets somewhere, none the wiser. She just doesn’t want all of Ponyville to know the truth.

Somehow, his argument only made Carrot hate himself even more. During the night, he had dismissed it as his jumbled emotions hitting him every way they could and trudged on. Eventually, he had looked up and been startled to realize that not only had the sun come up at some point, but his steps had led him back to the castle. Well… I suppose I needed to come home sooner or later, he had thought. But then a cold weight had settled onto his heart, breaking through the stupor he had managed to lose himself in. Is it still home? Carrot couldn’t answer the question, and that alone filled him with dread.

Behind him, Cupcake was stacking dishes again. Or rearranging them to keep herself busy. She couldn’t think of anything else to say, it seemed. She was just waiting, the way she had probably been waiting all through the previous day and night.

And what else is there to say?

Only what he had come back to say.

“I need to go,” Carrot said. The sound of the dishes stopped. Silence was his only answer. Carrot turned and looked at her, standing there in the dim kitchenette, wearing an apron he had bought for her years ago and holding a damp, gray towel in one hoof. She was looking at him as if he were pointing a loaded bow at her. “I need…” he broke off. The words… where were the words he had known he was going to say? It was hard to think straight. His emotions might be dulled, but it made it equally hard to hold onto his thoughts.

“Are you leaving me?”

He blinked, and brought her a little more clearly into focus. The question was an important one. He himself wanted to know the answer to that. But when he tried to think of the answer, of what he felt when he looked at his wife standing across the room, it slipped away from him just like his words. Trying to decide what he felt about her was like watching two puddles of oil and vinegar try to mix. Two warring, antipodal emotions were pushing fluidly against each other, each trying to subsume the other, but ultimately they were kept separate by a barrier as clear, slippery, and impenetrable as diamond.

He felt suddenly sick and looked away. “I… I don’t know.”

Something inside him roiled at the ambiguous answer. He felt a wave of misery and hatred, and distantly, he knew it had nothing to do with Cupcake. It died away after only a moment, though, replaced by a cool, calm sense of resigned righteousness. It gave him just enough composure to speak. “I’m going home. To Manehattan. I need to think.”

He fell silent and waited for her answer. He had wondered what she would say from the moment he decided what he would do next. Would she beg him to stay? Apologize and try to explain more? Or would she just demand an answer then and there? Would she even ask for an answer, or inform him that she was the one who would be leaving? He had wandered a few hours more just to try to prepare for any answers he could imagine her giving.

Once again, she didn’t say anything. He looked back at her. She was still staring at him with that stricken expression, that look of anticipation, like she was waiting for a blow to fall. Then she seemed to pull into herself somehow. A wall went up somewhere, covering up her vulnerability. He thought he could almost see anger. When she spoke, however, it was only with an exhausted sadness.

“…okay.”

Carrot nodded. Almost without thinking, he started walking again, this time towards the door. Neither of them said anything else. After all, he thought numbly, what else is there to say?

As he stepped into the hallway that would take him out of their borrowed home, and shortly after out of Ponyville, she asked him one final question. “Do you want to say goodbye to Pumpkin and Pound?”

His steps paused for only a heartbeat. Then they carried him out the door. “No.”

* * *

“Oh, Sunburst!” Cadence looked up with a surprised smile as she spotted him entering the library. “Welcome home!”

Sunburst couldn't’ quite suppress a pained grimace as he heard the words. He hoped Cadence would put it down to fatigue, or not notice at all. “Hello, Cadence.”

“Did you have a good trip?” She looked away and turned back to Flurry, who was sitting on the soft cushion in front of her and poking at a little picture book about gemstones. Sunburst felt a familiar, nauseous lurch of his heart as he saw them together. His casual affirmation died in his throat, strangled by guilt.

“Not… not really, I suppose,” he said.

Cadence looked up with a sympathetic frown. “What’s wrong?”

Everything. “Things just didn’t go the way I’d hoped.”

“Is it about Starlight?” Cadence asked, shifting a little farther back from Flurry.

Sunburst blinked in surprise. Of course. They probably think I went down to try to further our relationship. Yet, as he wondered how to answer the question, he realized that, out of all the things that gone wrong, his relationship with Starlight had actually deepened. He had expected her to reject him when she had found out he had a foal out of wedlock. Far from it, though. She had stayed by his side and even tried to help where she could. They certainly weren’t together by any means, but somehow their friendship felt more… anchored. He hadn’t realized just how much distance he had put between them to keep the secret until it was no longer there.

“No,” he said, surprised at the honesty of the answer. “No, actually, we’re fine.”

“Then what happened?”

Sunburst shook his head. “It’s personal. I might be able to talk about it later. It’s not the right time now, though.”

Cadence gave him a long look. “If you’re sure. But you know Shining and I are here for you. If you need anything at all, Sunburst, you can always talk to us.”

“I know.”

Cadence watched him for a few moments more as he started to poke through the card catalog. He avoided looking at her sad expression. He knew that few ponies had as hard a time leaving an upset pony alone as Cadence. Indeed, he had hoped to avoid her for at least a day or two after his return. Burying himself in research would have given him time to compose himself, restore a little of his energy, and come up with a few anecdotes to tell about Ponyville while avoiding discussion of the crisis he had caused.

Still, it may not matter for much longer, he thought listlessly. The truth is out in the open now. It’s a stretch, but the story might work its way down the vine from Pinkie or Starlight to Twilight, then to Cadence or Shining. What’s getting another confession over with compared to everything that’s already happened?

Cadence turned back to Flurry, who was starting to fuss and push the book away. “Well. I’d better get our little bookworm back to the nursery if I want to meet the Crystal Harmonics board.”

“Oh, I can watch her,” Sunburst offered automatically, sliding the catalog drawer shut.

“No, that’s okay, Sunburst,” Cadence said. She gave him a sympathetic smile. “You only just got back this afternoon. I’m sure you want to rest. Doctor Bedside’s managed Flurry just fine this week, so she won’t mind another day or two extra.”

Sunburst struggled to keep his composure. When Cadence had said “no,” he felt as if she had punched him clean through the ribs. Blinking back his bewilderment, he realized it had almost thrown him into a panic. It’s not Pumpkin, it’s Flurry. No one else is being taken away, Sunburst. Get a grip!

Even so, something inside him screamed out in agony at the thought of Cadence taking Flurry and leaving him alone. He spoke before he could stop himself. “It’s alright, really. I could use the distraction. The train ride wasn’t really all that tiring, and I could use something simple to do.”

Now Cadence looked a little more worried. Sunburst realized she was probably sensing that there was more to his words. He cringed a little to think of how strong her and Shining’s trust in him had grown, but he had hidden so much from them.

“Well… if you’re sure,” she said reluctantly. “I won’t be much longer than an hour. I’ll have Bedside check in later anyway though, just in case you change your mind.”

“It’s no trouble,” Sunburst said. He walked over to Flurry and picked her up, grunting as he hefted the little foal who seemed to have grown more than should be possible in five days. “Oof, you are getting big, aren’t you? Don’t worry, Princess. I’m sure everything will be fine soon.”

Cadence nodded, and with a last questioning look back as she left, she shut the large library doors behind her. Only then did Sunburst let his tired smile crumble. He sank back to the couch, pushing Flurry’s forgotten book aside as he held her close.

“Oh Flurry,” he mused aloud. “What are we going to do now?”

She made a small, questioning noise as she looked up at him. He couldn’t help but give a sad chuckle in answer.

“You got that right. Starlight promised to keep me updated on everything she could, but… what can any of us do, at this point?”

He bounced her lightly, earning a few delighted giggles as she clung tighter to him. He could only stare blankly at the far wall though. He was lost in his thoughts. “If Carrot doesn’t return, I can’t imagine Cupcake will ever want to see me again. Not that she ever did anyway. Can’t really blame her there. But if everything falls apart… I might never see Pumpkin again.” He fought down the sudden sob that tried to burst from his throat. “And if Carrot does come back… why would he or Cupcake trust me to be around? They won’t want to be reminded of what happened… they’ll want to go back to the way things were. And I’ll never see Pumpkin that way, either.”

Another questioning noise from Flurry. He wondered if she could sense his strength breaking down inside him. She was startlingly astute sometimes.

“That’s a nice thought, Flurry, but I just don’t see it working out that way.” He let out a long sigh, then looked down at her. She had started to grow into those large, bright, questioning eyes, and her curly mane had gotten longer and fuller over the past few months. She was a beautiful foal. But she wasn’t his.

“Is that what I’ve been doing?” he asked her quietly. Something dark and miserable was lurking in the back of his thoughts, and it was rising now with dread certainty, giving voice to doubts he had never once allowed himself to examine. He’d always feared that if he did, he would lose even this last lonely refuge he had carved out for himself, here in the narrow confines of the frozen north. “Does keeping an eye on you make up for never seeing my own daughter? Does it… does it make anything right?”

He bent his head down, clenching his eyes and teeth against the cries that threatened to roar out of him and drag him into the emptiness of despair. “Are you the closest I’ll ever have, Flurry?”

She vocalized something that sounded like dissent. It was almost like she was trying to tell him not to cry.

If only such small comfort could have given him peace like it used to. Now, however, Sunburst knew what he was—an outsider allowed to share a little happiness with a family that would never really be his, giving love meant for another. And all because of the ongoing onslaught of his mistakes.

He held Flurry close, shoulders shaking with silent, wracking sobs in the empty depths of the castle.