Menace to Propriety

Chapters

From Canterlot With Dove
Dove Is A Battlefield
You Can't Hurry Dove
Dove The One You're With—Part I
Dove The One You're With—Part II
Epilogue: Crazy Little Thing Called Dove
I Would Do Anything For Dove (but i won't do that)

From Canterlot With Dove

Diamond’s stomach rumbled.

Beneath her chin, four dozen cupcakes lined a golden tray in a perfect grid. Each cake was shaped into a little heart with wings of sculpted sugar, edible glitter reflecting speckles of light across the silk tablecloth. A crystal centerpiece divided them by color, with sunny yellow icing on the left and periwinkle blue on the right.

To Diamond Tiara’s best guess, the colors represented the bride and groom, but why give the cupcakes wings if both ponies were unicorns? Something symbolic, probably. Or tradition. Or some other shallow excuse to cover up the fact that nopony remembered the real reason anymore and they just did it for the sake of doing it. Most weddings seemed to work that way.

She peered at the buffet table where Spoiled Rich snarled at one of her assistants. Spoiled probably knew, but it wouldn’t be worth bugging her in the middle of work.

Her stomach growled again. Diamond edged one step backward, eyes focused on the topiary garden occupying this section of the estate. Adults skimmed past in flowing gowns and slick tuxedos. Once or twice, somepony stopped to admire the frills in Diamond’s designer dress, but never for more than a second.

She took two steps backward.

That’s right, folks. Nothing to see here. Only a precious little filly keeping out of the way. An adorable wedding guest caught up in the pomp and circumstance of What’s-Her-Name and What’s-His-Face’s wedding. No different than any other pony. A blur in the crowd.

Three steps back.

The table brushed against Diamond’s rump. Her hoof dusted the edge of the closest cake and cupped around it. She kept her eyes on the flood of ponies rushing around her. None of them bothered to look past their own nose, and even if they did, who’d miss one little cake?

Slowly, she dragged the cupcake off the tray. Closer… closer… yes! After a quick check to see if the coast was clear, she licked her lips and lifted the cupcake to her muzzle.

“Put it back.” Spoiled Rich’s eyes never left the clipboard. A winged shadow passed over the pages of numbers and schedules flipping under her polished hoof. “Tell me something good, Valentide.”

A red pegasus hovered above the buffet, her white tail curled up to avoid the parfaits. “The last of the bridesmaids finally arrived, but now we miiiight have another problem.”

Spoiled rolled her eyes. “Well, of course we do.”

“There’s no need to panic, but it seems as though she got just a teensy bit confused about the dress code.” Valentide rubbed the sweat under her lace collar. “She, um, showed up in apricot pink instead of salmon and wants to know if she needs to change.”

Spoiled’s chin snapped up. “Oh, of all the stupid—of COURSE she needs to change! We can’t have eleven salmon dresses and one apricot; she’ll stick out like a twisted hoof. At least tell me we still have the backup dress.” She flicked an ear and glared at the cupcake in Diamond’s hoof. “Diamond Tiara, don’t make me tell you twice. I’ve got enough to worry about without you ruining the buffet. And get off the walkway, you’re underhoof.”

Diamond wrinkled her nose and put the cupcake back. “Fine.” I wouldn’t be underhoof if you just let me stay home by myself.

“Put it back without the attitude.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Diamond stepped off the stone sidewalk, frowning at her hooves. Five bits said Spoiled would find something wrong with that, too. “Don’t sulk in front of the guests, Diamond. You’re carrying your tail too low, Diamond. No, don’t carry it that high, Diamond. You’re breathing too loud, Diamond." Sheesh.

Her stomach growled again. This morning’s fruit and cereal had already become a distant memory. The buffet sparkled in the corner of Diamond’s eye.

Spoiled wheeled on the red pegasus. “Well? Do we have it or not?”

“We do, but, uh… the dress is a size three.” Valentide squirmed in her designer shoes. “She’s a nine.”

“Tell Tux to have her dressed and in position in ten.” Spoiled went back to flipping through the wedding list, checking off items as she went.

Behind her, Diamond reached for the candied roses.

“But Mrs. Rich, it doesn’t fit!”

“Then the whale should have thought of that before she showed up twenty minutes late in apricot. We’ll make it fit. There’s got to be a corset somewhere arou—Diamond Dazzle Tiara what did I JUST tell you?!”

Diamond clutched the candied petals and met her stepmother’s glare. “You said not to touch the cupcakes. Nopony’s gonna miss a couple of petals.”

Spoiled stepped forward.

The petals dropped from Diamond’s hoof. “Fine, what about the cheese plate? The salad bar? I’m starving.”

“I told you to eat before we left—” Spoiled closed her eyes and breathed slowly through her nose. When she unclenched her teeth, she spoke with calculated patience. “Diamond. Sweetheart.”

The “sweethearts” only came out during a crisis or before getting the riot act. This sounded like both. Diamond braced.

“Sweetheart, you can have something after the ceremony’s over and the buffet opens. It’s only another hour or so.” She scowled in the pool house’s direction. “Assuming we get this dress issue sorted out in time.”

“Issue? What issue?” A light purple unicorn marched across the lawn, lashing her long tail. Her jeweled Princess Dress—all the rage this season, according to the magazines—clinked against the massive gem hanging from her neck. Bracelets blazed on her fetlocks, diamonds sparkled in her ears, and emeralds threaded through her tail. The mare’s every move jingled. “As I recall, your brochure promised my daughter a perfect wedding reception. A perfect reception on time.”

Spoiled’s jaw wrenched into a smile. If one could call that sharp curve of clenched teeth a smile. “Absolutely, and a perfect reception is what she’ll get, Carat Cut. It’s a minor wardrobe note, nothing to worry about. Have you seen the ice sculpture?” She indicated the life-sized ice unicorns crossing horns behind the raspberry fondue.

“Mm. I’ve seen it.” The unicorn didn’t even look at it. “Lily positively insisted on the thing. No accounting for taste, I suppose—in décor or grooms.” Her green eyes skimmed Spoiled up and down. “Among other things. In any case, you’ve managed an adequate job here, Rotten. No, wait, your mother remarried some time back… it’s Rotten-Milk now, isn’t it?”

“It’s Rich,” Spoiled said. The calcified smile unwound into something bordering a frown. “Mrs. Rich.”

“Oh, that’s right! I did hear you finally tied the knot some years ago. Goodness, I thought that had been a rumor. Suppose I owe Silver Frames that martini.” Carat Cut chuckled to herself. “Well, a belated congratulations to you, Mrs. Rich. It took only—what, two decades? Twentieth time’s a charm, am I right?”

Spoiled hacked up a joyless laugh and returned to the clipboard.

“Anyhow, I hope we can get to the altar and rip this bandage off sooner than later. The less time with the new in-laws, the…” The jeweled unicorn trailed off as her eyes slid to the pink filly staring back at her. “…the better…”

Showtime. Diamond Tiara curtsied, letting her tiered dress wash over the grass like the tide. She politely dipped her head and flashed the smile that conquered last year’s pageant circuit. “Good morning, ma’am, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Diamond Tiara.”

Behind the clipboard, Spoiled cleared her throat.

Oh, right. “Congratulations on your daughter’s wedding. She must be excited to be married in such a pretty home.” Although “pretty” stretched it when every house in this neighborhood looked exactly the same, save for the address numbers. Diamond had no idea how ponies didn’t wander into the wrong place by accident.

Carat Cut didn’t hear a word. So much for this morning’s etiquette drills. “You brought your foal to work, Rich?” She spat out ‘foal’ like a swear word. “With all that prattle about your husband, one would think a mare of your, eh… ‘stature’... could afford a nanny.” Carat stepped back, sneering at Diamond like a saddle off the clearance rack.

Spoiled Rich tensed and looked up from the clipboard. Yesterday, she had eviscerated a waiter for dilly-dallying with the complimentary bread. Last week, she nearly got the mailmare fired for mishandling a package. This morning, she stayed silent.

High society had its own sneaky, silent ways of fighting. Ponies socked you in the mouth with a whisper and cut your stomach open with giggles. It was all delicate and complicated, and you had to know your hoofwork before stepping into the ring. Diamond Tiara might have been fairly new to society battles, but she knew from experience that Spoiled had to at least be a green belt. Her stepmother could cut down this overstuffed overdressed nag in three sentences if she wanted to.

If she wanted to.

Diamond stared up at her. Say something.

Spoiled Rich blinked at Diamond once, frowned, then returned to the clipboard. “Valentide, are the birds set up yet?”

“Finished an hour ago, Mrs. Rich. Sixty-six as requested: half white rollers, half black magpies on standby for release.”

Above Diamond’s head, ponies pressed on as if nothing had happened. As if it didn’t matter—she didn’t matter.

“Good. Do a second check and tell the pâtissier I’ll be there in ten.”

Diamond’s stare congealed into a glower. “Sure Valentide, I’ll rush on over to talk to the cake guy I already talked to eight times today. No, I don’t have better things to do. It’s not like my kid’s worth defending or anything.” Not against the Canterlot elite, anyway. If it were a penniless nopony, then Spoiled might have said something. Might.

And really, what did she even expect? That Spoiled would swoop in to defend her at the drop of a pin? Fat chance of that happening before the school election, fatter chance of it happening now, and it was stupid to think otherwise. Stupid. This whole thing was stupid, everypony here was stupid, and this dress itched.

Diamond dug her hooves into the lawn. Soft, cool soil dug into the caulkins of her horseshoes. One more thing for Spoiled to yell at her for.

Why couldn’t she have gone to Whinnyapolis with Dad instead? Even if business conferences didn’t have anything for foals—which Diamond still didn’t believe for a second—she could have ordered room service and read comics. She could have explored the hotel. Found an arcade with Prance Prance Insurrection. Slept all day. Fallen down an elevator shaft. Eaten a broken glass salad. Anything would be better than getting treated like last week’s horseapples.

A hot bubble of anger swelled in her chest, rising and rising and rising until it got caught in her throat. If she let it, it’d keep on rising until it fogged up her eyes and head, until mad was all she saw. Diamond remembered Doctor Belfry’s advice, took a deep breath, and counted to fifteen.

Okay.

Better.

Who needs her? I can take care of myself. She swallowed hard and swung to face the unicorn.

“We could afford a nanny if we wanted one, ma’am.” Diamond spat the same venom Carat had used with “foal”. It tilted more than a few ears. Good. I work better with an audience. “You see, Mother and I are spending quality time with each other today while she multitasks.”

Carat Cut narrowed her eyes. “I’m sorry?”

Diamond fluttered her baby blues and tilted her head. “You know about multitasking, right? When ponies work on more than one thing at once? Here, lemme explain it.” She clapped her hooves as if eagerly explaining a science project. “See, our family works for a living, and we do this, like, totally wacky thing where we raise our own foals. Also, I outgrew daycare eight years ago.”

Carat Cut stared. Bullies, jerks, and high-class snotrockets weren’t accustomed to pushback, especially not from ponies expected to roll over and play dead. Sometimes it took a second. Slowly, her lips tightened into a thin line.

Ah, there it goes.

Diamond Tiara flashed her cutest ever-so-pleasant wedding-guest smile toward the rest of the guests. Valentide audibly awwed. According to Diamond’s pageant coach, she only had a couple more years of cute left; use it or lose it, right? It’d be more than enough to cover her tracks for the spectators.

Carat Cut took a decisive step forward.

What, you’re really going to attack a cute little filly in front of all these ponies? Diamond locked eyes with the unicorn. I’m bored, I’m hungry, I’m adorable, and I know how to cry on cue. Her smile grew teeth. Try me.

For a second, it actually looked like she would. Carat Cut got five stomps in before Spoiled Rich cut between them. “You’ll have to forgive my daughter, Mrs. Carat. With all the excitement, sometimes little fillies don’t quite know what they’re saying.” She offered a conciliating smile.

That seemed enough to let Carat Cut leave satisfied. When she’d gone out of sight and the crowd passed on, Spoiled shot Diamond a glare to freeze Tartarus twice.

Diamond adjusted her tiara with an unapologetic sniff.

“Valentide, my dear, would you help my daughter find something to do with her time? She appears to be in a mood.” Before Diamond could protest, Spoiled nudged her into the assistant's waiting wings. “Keep her out of trouble and everypony’s way until after the ‘I Do’s.”

Because that’s a great way to spend quality time. What a joke—as if spending a couple of hours together would do anything but get them on each other’s nerves. Standing next to each other all day didn’t make them close.

“Sure thing. We’ll have a great time, won’t we, Diamond?” Valentide offered one of those shut-up-the-adults-are-talking smiles. “But are you sure, ma’am? There’s still a lot to cover before—”

“Tuxen Tails will cover you. Besides, everypony’s arrived, and you got the couple to the altar; the hard part’s finished.” She turned on Diamond.

“And you...”

“Yeah, I know.” Diamond rolled Valentide’s wings off her withers. “Behave.”

“For somepony who knows, you certainly don’t show it.” She considered Diamond’s sour expression a moment, sighed, and added, “Alright. I know this might not have been what you expected from today—”

No, this is pretty much it.

“—but we’ll leave in an hour or so. Then we can get lunch and spend our real quality time together and do…” Spoiled twirled her hoof in the air indicating whatever she thought fillies Diamond’s age did. “Until then, can you at least pretend to be somepony with manners?”

Diamond Tiara sucked her teeth.

“Or do you want me to tell your father and Doctor Belfry that you didn’t even want to try?”

Please. Why should she have to try when Spoiled didn’t even give her the time of day? She liked it better when they just stayed out of each other’s way and never spoke.

“If I recall, you shook on it.”

Dad’s words bounced back all the way from Ponyville. And you never, ever go back on a hoofshake. Slowly, Diamond lifted her gaze and reached into her pocket. “And you’re really going to keep your half of the deal? Anything I want?”

“Within the established parameters, yes. Anything you—” Spoiled blinked at the white paper drawn from the pocket of Diamond’s dress. “You brought that all the way to Canterlot?”

Diamond Tiara brandished the typed contract, complete with signatures from all three members of the Rich family, plus Randolph’s as a witness. “Why would I get it in writing if I wasn’t going to use it? Like, that’s the whole point.”

“I’ll hold my end if you hold yours. We can talk more about it after the wedding. Keep that dress clean, it wasn’t cheap.” With that, Spoiled whistled over a black and white stallion. “Tux, let’s go see about that dress.”

Valentide drew her new charge under her wing again and led her down the walkway. “C’mon kiddo, I’ll give you the tour.”

Together, they navigated the lavish wedding party. Diamond found herself introduced to the big house she couldn’t enter, the lavish buffet she couldn’t eat, the extravagant decorations she couldn’t touch, and fancy ponies she didn’t know.

Among these ponies was Lily Lace, the bride herself. She had a soft yellow coat, talked like a Coltifornian for some reason, and looked like she wanted to either laugh or cry, but couldn’t choose between the two. (According to Valentide, most brides were like that.) She was much nicer than Carat Cut, and fawned over the gems stitched into Diamond’s dress.

“Like, it’s like you fell into a magical lagoon of sparkles and dreams, you know? Oh, and those little heart cross-stitches in the hem? Ugh, shut up, I can’t even!”

The rest of the wedding was nothing Diamond hadn’t seen before. Less, actually. She squinted at the purple and white lilies lacing the archway above the chairs, a pathetic copy of Upper Crust’s six-hundred-layer rainbow rose pagoda. Lily’s family must have been in a lower price bracket; they’d probably busted the bank to keep up with the trends. Nopony blew their nose in this town without checking if the handkerchief was in style.

At the edge of Diamond’s attention, Valentide blabbed on about the soon-to-be newlyweds. “…got them to meet again in Manehattan, and like my charts said, he absolutely dazzled her on the runway.”

Her story drifted in and out through a cloud of background noise: String quartet preparing a pop song cover. Carriages rolling outside the fence. Family of the groom laughing at bad jokes.

“…and right then, I knew we’d had our pair…”

Small talk from ponies who mattered. Big talk from ponies who didn’t. Cooks yelling at each other. Cooing—wait. Cooing?

Diamond’s ears swiveled toward the pool house, where she discovered a tall cage of brass bent into the shape of a heart. The inside pulsed with movement, a writhing white mass flecked with black and pink. It reminded her of the waves crashing on the banks of Horseshoe Bay when the froth drew back from the rocks.

“…your mom won’t admit it, but she saw it clear as day. You can take the mare out of matchmaking, but you can’t take the matchmaking out of the mare, as I always say.” Valentide finally realized Diamond had stopped walking beside her. “You want to see the birds before the release, kiddo?” She checked the mostly empty audience seats. “We’ve still got about ten minutes.”

“Yeah, okay.” And quit calling me ‘kiddo.’

Up close, it didn’t sound like cooing anymore, but a solid breathing mass. The sound rumbled under Diamond’s coat—not thunder, but a purr, soft and enormous with life. She pressed her nose against the mesh threading between the bars to get a better look. Some just looked like regular white doves, while the others had long black necks and slimmer bodies.

A white earth pony crouched at the foot of the cage, greasing the wheels on the bottom. She smiled and waved when she noticed their approach. “Hello there, Valentide. And who is this?”

“Diamond, this is our bird wrangler, Dainty Dove.” Valentide’s wing patted her charge’s head. “Dainty, this is Mrs. Rich’s daughter, Diamond Tiara.”

“Hi.” Diamond didn’t bother with hoofshakes. If this mare answered to Spoiled, they could skip the pleasantries and get to business. “How many pigeons are in there?” With so many birds flapping around in a small space, she could barely tell them apart, much less count them.

“Thirty-three magpies and thirty-three white rollers for the bride and groom respectively.” The wrangler frowned at her. “And these, young filly, are doves, not pigeons.”

They sure smelled like pigeons. Despite being washed and groomed for the event, all the decorum in the world couldn’t stop a pigeon from pooping. They waddled with that silly head bob like the pigeons from the park, too.

Diamond raised an eyebrow. “What’s the difference?” If they were all doves, it couldn’t be color. The skinny long-neck ones had black feathers from the shoulders up.

“Breeding,” Dainty said. “You can find pigeons mulling around any old hot dog stand, but a dove!” She took a bird from the cage, a delicate little white thing that cuddled in her hooves and barely cooed at all. “A dove is something special. They’re bred to be.”

In other words, the same difference between weeds and wildflowers. As always, it all came down to marketing.

Dainty knelt to let Diamond Tiara pet the dove’s soft feathers. “This one’s Pretty Boy Sixteen.” At Diamond's perplexed look, she added, “They’re named after their sires and dams, so we know who’s who when it’s time for nesting.” She put Pretty Boy Sixteen back in the cage and gestured to a black and white dove preening beside the door. “That one’s Babyface Eighty-Eight, and next to her is the mate, Cupid One Six Five.”

Something snagged Diamond Tiara’s tail. When she tried to flick it off, that something yanked. “Ow!”

Her tail snatched away the cage, where a ratty magpie pigeon had pecked a hole in the mesh. Its gangly black neck dangled from the bars as if the brass heart had sprung an oil leak. One pus-white eye blinked at her, then the other. Strings of Diamond’s tail hairs dangled from its coral pink beak like purple drool.

Diamond flicked her tail out of reach. “Hey, watch it! This tail’s worth twice the price of your cage, you know.” Sure, it had been insured, but that didn’t mean she ran around letting random birds rip hairs out.

The pigeon’s head twisted upside down, tail hairs tangling over its eyes.

“Sorry about that. You’ve got to watch that one.” Dainty Dove poked the raggedy bird with a baton, glaring at the hole it had pecked through the mesh. “Ugh, I just replaced this. Shoo!” She jabbed the pigeon until it flapped to a higher shelf. It smacked the sides of the cage on its way up, leaving a trail of broken feathers behind. “Blasted thing’s torn up half the aviary, and that’s the least of it. If you can believe it, Two Three Seven’s got some of the best papers in the flock, but…”

Both ponies glanced at the scrawny magpie pigeon, who tilted its head at them. The head kept going. Slowly the neck leaned back and back and back until it bopped the bottom of the shelf. Feathers scattered as it jerked itself back into place, blinked out of synch, and pooped on one of the white doves.

Diamond rose to her hind legs for a better view. The pigeon pressed against the mesh, staring back with its weird milky eyes. If the elongated neck weren’t so crooked, he could probably carry his head higher than all the other birds. Once upon a time, maybe somepony had grabbed his head and stretched it out like taffy, or maybe he stretched his neck to reach some food and it stayed that way.

Continents of bare skin mapped his chest and torso where feathers had fallen out, and his raggedy black tail feathers fanned out in random directions. His long neck jerked upright as he marched back and forth along the shelf, ruffling his wings and cooing to himself. While he walked, the dark feathers in his neck caught the sun and glimmered with subtle rainbows. Two Three Seven boasted the slim build and ugly-beautiful aesthetics of an avant-garde runway model. The breeding showed.

“What do you call this one?”

Dainty Dove shooed it from the side of the cage. “A menace.”

A red face poked around the corner of the cage. “Hey there, Di,” said Valentide, who’d known her all of forty minutes and hadn’t earned the right to call her ‘Di’ yet. “What are you—augh!” She yanked Diamond from the cage, spreading her wingspan to shield her charge. A pony'd think the birds would explode any second. “Compassionate Cadance in coitus, what is THAT?!”

The birdcage erupted in startled flapping and frenzied coos. Diamond Tiara sneezed at the feathers rubbing her muzzle. “I’m fine. It’s just a little bird.”

She poked her head over the wing to see the scraggly pigeon huddled against the mesh. The pupils dilated in and out like a camera snagging snapshots. Locked up in a cage, he couldn’t do anything to anypony even if he wanted to. Valentide didn’t have to scream at him; it wasn’t like he asked to be here either.

Valentide dialed her volume to a harsh whisper. “Dainty, what the hay? What’s this thing doing in the release?” She cringed at the crust flaking on the pigeon’s beak. “Ugh, it looks diseased. Diamond Tiara, do you feel alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Her eyes popped wide. “Is your dress okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Oh goodness, if anything happened Mrs. Rich’ll have my wings in a splint!”

Diamond shoved the wings off of her. “I told you, I’m fine!” Adults never heard you the first time. If they weren’t going to listen, what was the point of asking in the first place?

In the corner of the cage, the pigeon with the wonky neck bit at his own feathers. What little plumage it had puffed and fluffed the way Rarity’s cat did when it went to the vet. Diamond had to admit Valentide might have a point. “Is he sick?”

“He’s getting over a cold right now, but Two Three Seven is otherwise... well, he’s physically fine. I’ve got the vet report if you want it.” Dainty sighed at the bird wobbling in circles on the cage floor. “Just a drama king that’s flown into one too many mirrors. You can’t give me one day without static, can you, menace?”

The wonky-necked pigeon flapped at her, puffing the few feathers it had, but it stayed put.

Dainty Dove took out one of the other magpie pigeons for Diamond to hold. It had the same colors, but more gala tuxedo than a thrift-store jacket. Its feathers glossed from the smooth elegant neck to the perfectly manicured toenails. It vaguely reminded Diamond Tiara of Silver Spoon’s butler.

The bird gave a lilting musical coo, stretching its swanlike neck to soak up the sun. A dignified, handsome little thing, polished to a shine. “You’re okay, I guess.” She gave it back to its keeper to put back.

Valentide nodded in approval. “I don’t know why you brought the raggedy one at all when you’ve got plenty of good ones.”

“Yes, thirty-two good ones that aren’t busy nesting. However, if I recall,” Dainty sniffed, “the instructions explicitly called for thirty-three, no more and no less. Unless you’ve got a pedigree Trottingham Magpie Pigeon under your petticoat, this is the best we can do.”

“Couldn’t you work with one less bird?”

A hard snap of elastic echoed across the yard. Both ponies turned to the pool house where a bridesmaid struggled to walk in a dress bursting at the seams. Mrs. Spoiled Rich watched with little pity.

Valentide flicked an ear. “Okay, stupid question.”

Dainty Dove bobbed her head. “Agreed.”

With everypony else distracted, Diamond knelt by the corner of the cage, where Two Three Seven pecked at bits of mesh. The hole had grown to twice the size of a coin. She stuck her hoof halfway in and wagged it at him. “You’re ready to ditch this party, huh?”

The pigeon tapped its crusty beak against her horseshoe. It tickled.

“Yeah, me too.” She stroked a bare patch of skin on his chest. If “the menace” really wasn’t sick, why did he have so many missing feathers? Did he get into fights with the other birds? Diamond hadn’t seen any of the others come close to him; maybe the rest of the flock held a grudge. “Did you do something bad?”

The pigeon’s gangly neck twisted to the side and went lopsided. It blinked at her upside down.

“Guess you’ve got a different perspective.” Since she didn’t have anypony around to do it, Diamond smiled at her own little joke.

Above her head, Dainty talked shop with Valentide. “…besides, the menace is one in over sixty flying five feet in the air. Nopony will know the difference.”

Diamond Tiara watched her while she stroked the pigeon’s bare patches. “He’s perfectly fine, physically.” The dove keeper had snuck in a stipulation: a line of fine print to sidestep a different problem. Money-back guarantees came a dime a dozen, and no businesspony made a profit without cutting corners.

“They fly and home back in a few minutes by instinct. Even this moron can do it.” Dainty smirked. “He’d better if he doesn’t want a ticket to the cat’s supper dish.” She laughed to show that she’d been joking.

Valentide laughed along to be polite.

Diamond Tiara clutched the contract in her pocket and narrowed her eyes.

The string quartet shifted into a romantic ballad. Most of the galley seats had been filled, with plenty more guests on their way. Bridesmaids, ushers, and family of the couple took their places.

“Oooh, here we go!” Valentide bounced into the air, clapping her hooves. She swept Diamond away from the birdcage with another one of her placating smiles. “Let’s go find your mom. We’ll see the birdies again after the wedding, kiddo.”

Diamond watched the heart of gold shift from mesh-and-wire to a solid mass again. Perspective worked funny that way. “I’m counting on it, Miss Valentide.” And she’s not my mom.

They slipped through the aisles to the center of the bride’s section where Spoiled Rich awaited them. The tip of her moussed tail twitched while she examined the arc of lilies threading above the galley.

At a glance, it was impossible to tell if her irritation came from Diamond Tiara, a work incident, or something else totally unrelated. Probability and personal history suggested a combination of all three. The tricky part was figuring out Diamond’s personal percentage of that irritation. She rounded it to sixty percent to be safe. Diamond twitched her ears at distant cooing. Better not roll the dice.

“Hello, Mother.” She spoke just above a stage whisper.

“Hello, Diamond. Nice of you to finally join us.” Spoiled slightly angled her head to peer at them. “You made it by the skin of your teeth.”

Please. These things never start when they’re supposed to. They had like, five minutes before the wedding march at least.

The sequined pleats of Diamond’s dress spread neatly as she sat. She kept her hooves in her lap and her tail curled neatly. “I’m sorry for our tardiness, it’s my fault. Valentide and I were having such fun at the wedding, we lost track of time. We met Lily—uh, Miss Lily Lace and the band, and so many other interesting ponies.”

Dainty Dove wheeled the heart cage into position behind the altar. Close enough to see a wonky neck flopping out of the side.

Every tooth in Diamond’s smile sparkled. “Did I mention I’ve been on my best behavior?”

Useful for once, Valentide backed her with a smile and nod. “Yep. Good as gold, ma’am.” Her wing reached to pat Diamond on the head.

Diamond shifted so that the wing hit her withers instead. For insurance, she tilted her head, twirling her mane in her hoof. “By the way, I decided what kind of pet I want.”

Spoiled nodded to herself. “And there it is.” She kept her neutral wedding day smile, but Diamond Tiara knew when a pony frowned on the inside; most of Spoiled’s smiles went that way. This one didn’t feel like an angry-on-the-inside smile, however, so… good enough?

Appealing to emotion would get her nowhere fast. Smarter to go for logic and hard facts first. If Diamond needed an emotional vote, she could always appeal to Dad later. “It fits all of the contract stipulations, even the fine print parts. I checked.” She hadn’t, but she’d memorized it this morning in case the paper copy ran into trouble.

Valentide winked and gestured at the dove cage. “I practically had to drag her away,” she whispered. “She’s been staring at ‘em ever since. It’s adorable.”

Spoiled blinked in surprise. “Wait. You don’t mean the doves?” Her eyebrow rose. “Like a wedding dove? Not a screeching parrot or some absurd monstrosity from the Everfree?”

“Yes, ma’am,” chirped Diamond Tiara.

“And you DO mean a regular normal dove. Not a grubby rat with wings you found by the fence.”

“I do, ma’am.”

Spoiled blinked a couple of times, searching for a catch. She pointed at the heart cage. “Like one of those?”

“No, not like one of those.” Diamond stretched her neck to see the grubby magpie pigeon circling the bottom of the cage. “Exactly one of those. I already know which one I want, too. He’s got a pedigree and papers and everything. He’s the prettiest one in the whole flock. Mother!”

“…oh.” Spoiled’s icy posture melted less like frost in winter and more like ice cream in summertime. “Well. That does indeed sound like a suitable pet, Diamond Tiara, but I thought we might pick something out together.” She gave Diamond’s shoulder a little side-hug. “Doesn’t that sound like more fun?”

So we can get something stuffy and boring you like instead? Yeah, no. Given the chance, Spoiled would probably try to talk her into getting some sluggish, ornamental thing that couldn’t even come out of its tank. A sea anemone or a jellyfish or whatever.

“No thank you, Mother. I like this dove.”

Spoiled started to say something else, but the wedding procession began before she got a word out. “We’ll talk to Dainty about it after the ceremony.” She brushed bits of grass off Diamond’s dress and adjusted the mane strands around her tiara. “Sit up straight, we’re starting.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Did her room have space for a triple-decker cage? Maybe if she moved the vanity to the other corner and the bed closer to the wall. Diamond let her legs waggle over the edge of the bench, mapping out the layout in her head while the wedding procession passed. If the pigeon really did fly into mirrors, maybe they should move the vanity into another room? Actually, did they even need a big cage at all? It might be better if he slept in a smaller cage and flew around free most of the day.

Wish I’d brought my blueprint stuff…

Something wet plopped between Diamond’s ears. Then again. She snapped out of her interior design plans and frowned at the cloudless sky. “Huh.” Another droplet fell on her foreleg. Diamond turned to the sniffling pegasus beside her. Valentide had buried her face in her wings, sobbing so hard tears dripped off her primaries. Guess now I know why her name is Valentide. She edged out of the splash zone. More like Valen-tsunami.

“Are you okay?” Diamond had never seen an adult cry in public before, except when Nana Impossibly died. Even then, nopony had cried this hard.

“Oh… never better, kiddo.” Valentide wiped her eyes with a soggy wing. “I… It’s just the flowers a-and the music and they’re so beautiful a-a-and they love each other so muuuuch!”

Spoiled nodded. “Yes, and to think if not for us, they wouldn’t have made it here at all.” Rolling her eyes, she offered Valentide a handkerchief. “Celestia’s sake, we’re not even into the vows yet.”

“Thank you.” Valentide inspected the designer monogram and dabbed her eyes. “I’m so sorry, I promised not to make another scene.”

“I suppose it can’t be helped.” The tip of Spoiled’s tail tapped Diamond’s haunch. “I hope you know better than that. You do that sort of thing—”

“On my own time, in my own space. I know.” Diamond clenched her jaw before she let out something she’d regret. What, does she think I was born yesterday? Crying in front of other ponies might as well be handing over your house keys to strangers. Anypony two steps out of the crib knew that.

At the podium, the official led the couple into their vows.

Valentide clutched the handkerchief to her chest, cooing louder than the dove cage. “I think this is my favorite part of the job.”

“Then by the love and blessings of all gathered, by crown and contract, I decree you husband and wife. May you go in harmony.”

“Mine, too.” Something weird happened to Spoiled’s face, then. Little wrinkles creased around her round eyes, suddenly gone bright and sparkling. The hard lines of her cheekbones softened and rose like a plump biscuit out of the oven. Her bottom jaw slackened, and the corners of her mouth turned upwards.

After a moment, Diamond realized Spoiled Rich was smiling. Like, smiling the way normal ponies smiled, all happy and stuff. It fuzzed Diamond’s mane and made her feel all jumbled and weird and messed up inside. Watching her felt like watching a goldfish tap dance, or a teacher rap multiplication tables. She might have laughed if it didn’t also feel like somepony had stepped on her stomach.

The string quartet swung into another ballad. On cue, sixty-six doves burst into the sky in a great cloud of black and white. No, wait… sixty-five. A black and white speck broke from the group, dipping and bobbing and corkscrewing through the topiaries. Diamond stood on her chair trying to follow it, but she couldn’t see through the crowd.

Cameras flashed and snapped and clicked on every side. Today would snag the society section’s front pages, no doubt. Sparkling in the sunshine, doves banked and weaved around the arc of lilies and up, up into the sky: a perfect symbol of a new couple’s future unfurling before them, precious and promising and everlasting as the cloudless blue.

Barely audible under the applause and the cheers and the band and the sobbing, something went thunk.

The crowd oohed and ahhed. Valentide cried even harder, while Spoiled clasped her hooves and sighed with relief.

The bride and groom tried to suck each other’s lips off.

A flurry of chefs and waiters scrambled to wheel out the buffet. Carat Cut, (seemingly) proud mother of the bride, posed to cut the seven-tier wedding cake. A speck of white plopped in her hair. She frowned and looked up. She looked down. Slowly, her mouth fell open.

Spoiled Rich went ashen.

In the thick of the crowd, Dainty Dove took three steps backward, then bolted.

Diamond Tiara stood on her hind legs, squinting over the mass of wiggling shoulders to see the buffet table. Starbursts of frosting and feathers coated the tablecloth, the grass, and half the buffet.

A winding skid mark smeared through seven feet of buttercream and fifteen tiers of gutted red velvet. At the bottom of the nine-thousand-bit cake, pigeon Two Three Seven twitched on his back and pooped on the silverware.

Dove Is A Battlefield

“No.”

The negotiation smile crashed. “What do you mean, ‘no’? I didn’t even say anything yet!” Diamond Tiara braced against the wall of the gazebo, clutching a bundle of silk napkins tight against her chest. The napkins squirmed against the sudden pressure.

“You don’t need to.” Spoiled Rich turned a guarded squint from the rustling napkins to Diamond’s squared shoulders and braced hooves. “I know that look, and I am not in the mood for your games.” Her gaze rose over Diamond’s head and across the lawn. “Not today.”

Beneath the arc of lilies, the wedding party rallied around the understudy cake (a paltry little five-footer) with plates and hovering forks, chatting and laughing amongst each other. Three guesses what they laughed about.

Every few minutes, Carat Cut turned to stare at the gazebo. Diamond couldn’t see her expression, but she still felt her outrage boiling across a solid acre of sub-par zoysia grass. Spoiled had shooed Diamond off to the gazebo before the fallout, but whatever Carat told her had taken more than twenty minutes. She’d come back red-faced and low-eared.

Count on Diamond’s luck to get a hard sell at the worst possible time. Best-case scenario, she could have broken the ice with small talk, maybe a couple of sympathetic questions to wheedle into a decent segue. She glanced at the scaly foot poking out of the napkins. Unfortunately, secrets had a bad habit of leaking early.

Fine, forget the negotiation process. She’d had enough decorum and delicate pussyfooting this morning to last a month, anyway. Diamond peeled back a napkin.

The bundle rustled harder. Slowly, the head of pigeon Two Three Seven rose from the napkins, silk curtaining his head like a noblemare from olden times. Icing and chunks of cake freckled him in yellow and blue. Black and white feathers crinkled and twisted in opposite directions, some pasted flat with icing, some smushed by the crash. The bird’s pupils zoomed in and out, matching the quick pulse of his heart. Diamond felt him shiver through the layers of silk.

“I’m keeping him.” A declaration of terms, not a request. Harder to deny. Besides, who could deny this bold trendsetter of the Canterlot underground? She held him up so Spoiled could fully appreciate his elegant neck and big white eyes. “Look, he’s excited to meet you.”

Flapping wings erupted beneath Spoiled’s nose.

“I—ohgoodheavensno!” Spoiled Rich reared backward with a thoroughly undignified squeal. With a shaking hoof, she plucked a black feather from her dress, shuddered, and dropped it.

The pigeon tilted his head to watch it float down. The right eye blinked, then the left. He looked at Diamond and cooed.

“Okay, maybe a little too excited.” The frosting on his beak probably didn’t do him any favors. Diamond wiped his nostrils with a napkin corner.

Spoiled took a breath. Then another. She smoothed her bangs and cleared her throat. “No, Diamond Tiara. Absolutely not.”

“But—”

“But nothing. Look at that thing; it’s a cesspool of disease! Thank Celestia you had the foresight to put it in some napkins first.” She shied from the feathers on the gazebo floor. "You-you’re going to catch a death of salmonella or pigeon fever or rabies—”

“Birds can’t get rabies!”

“—or the Cloudsdale fur blight or lynks disease, or whatever else it’s carrying. I don’t know what that putrid animal’s got, but it’s got something, and I don’t want you touching it.” She reached to take the bundle away.

The pigeon’s neck rocked backward until the bird stared at her upside down.

“Ugh.” The hoof went down. Spoiled glanced from the bird’s splotchy feathers to the wedding cake rotting in a nearby garbage can. Her face paled again. “Ugh. The answer is no, Diamond. I won’t have that thing anywhere near my house.”

“It’s not just your house, it’s my house too.” And it had been Diamond’s house first. She had seniority. “Besides, it doesn’t matter if you like him or not, we had a deal.”

Number Two Three Seven nestled deeper into the silk. The quick beat of his heart pattered against Diamond’s hoof. It reminded her of somepony tapping their pen in a hospital waiting room.

Did he know they were fighting about him?

“Don’t worry, it’s not your fault,” Diamond told him. “We’re just having a discussion.”

That line had low mileage, but it’d work at least another four times. “It’ll be okay.” Which was what you were supposed to say, even when you knew it might not be.

A spare part of her wondered if pigeons could figure out the truth before fillies could. From the look on his face, Two Three Seven didn’t really believe her. Then again, she hadn’t believed Dad about his “discussions” with Mom, either. Wanted to, but didn’t. Not really.

Diamond folded the silk back over the pigeon’s head and turned back to Spoiled. “Actually, no, we had better than a deal. We had—” She reached for her pocket and nearly fell on her face. For a second, she’d forgotten the other hoof was full. “Hold on.”

Spoiled Rich rolled her eyes.

Through a series of complicated maneuvers, Diamond transferred the nest of silk so that it balanced between her chest and the gazebo wall. With the wall for leverage and one hoof cupping the pigeon for stability, her free hoof fished deep in her dress pockets.

“I got it…”

No, wait, that was Silver Spoon’s student council notes.

She rooted deeper. Receipts… marbles... coin purse… markers… last year’s Cutie Mark Crusader revenge plot/manifesto/blueprint (she really needed to shred that)… more receipts… a cool rock Scootaloo gave her…

Spoiled checked her watch.

“One sec.” She tried the other pocket. Bingo. “Better than a deal, we had—” Diamond slammed down her trump card “—a contract!”

Only history would tell whether the therapy idea would pan out. Diamond Tiara didn’t want to talk about her feelings at all, much less with a stranger once a week. The trouble of keeping sessions under wraps (because “what would ponies think?”) was more trouble than what it was worth. Maybe this whole exercise had been a waste of Saturdays, and they’d only gone along with it for Dad’s sake.

All that said, when Doctor Batina Belfry struck gold, she struck the mother lode. Diamond owed her big for the contract idea. Ponies broke promises just as soon as they’d break bread, but ink and paper were the glue that made those promises stick.

Diamond skimmed the fat until she found the good stuff:

…pending a satisfactory final report card and qualification for Ponyville Schoolhouse Honor Roll…

The aforementioned report card waited in Diamond’s other pocket, just in case, along with the honor roll ribbon.

The party of the first part (hereinafter referred to as “Diamond Tiara”) may be granted by the party of the second part (hereinafter referred to as “Spoiled Rich”) one (1) animal of Diamond Tiara’s own choosing* for purposes of companionship, responsibility, character-growth, and show-and-tell excursions (hereinafter referred to as "a pet").

For safety, she checked the fine print.

*Disqualifying traits include: shedding of fur, excessive noise, and size exceeding fifty (50) inches in any dimension.
Pet must be domesticated under Equestrian Companionship & Husbandry Organization (ECHO) standards.
Venomous creatures prohibited. Rodents prohibited. Arachnids and insects prohibited. Pet must be suitably housed.

Mrs. Spoiled Rotten Milk Rich’s signature curled at the bottom, full legal in ink bluer than Luna’s hide. Diamond’s hoof swung from the signature to her stepmother. “You can’t say no, because you already said yes.” She tapped the section that read "of her choosing". “And YOU said I can have ANY pet I want.”

“Yes, a pet within reason. I don’t know where you’ve gotten the delusion that a mangy confection terrorist applies to that distinction, but I assure you it doesn’t.” Spoiled whipped out her reading glasses and skimmed the fine print for an out. She wouldn’t find one.

The idea to draw up a contract might have been Doctor Belfry’s, but running it by Silver Spoon ahead of time had been Diamond’s. Silver Spoon, in turn, ran it by her grandfather, the lawyer. This watertight deal could hold Horseshoe Bay.

Diamond waited until Spoiled gave up before she pointed out, “The contract doesn’t say anything about cake terrorism.” Nopony, thankfully, had considered criminal records or bad behavior as a stipulation. “He’s not diseased, either. His keeper said so.”

Both of Spoiled Rich’s ears pricked.

Diamond winced. Me and my big mouth.

It dawned slowly. “He’s not your bird to take…” Spoiled whispered it under her breath, hardly daring to believe it. Then louder, giddy with the realization, “He’s not your bird to take!”

“I…” There had to be a way out of this. There had to be. Diamond ransacked her brain for solutions but only found panic and curse words. “Y-yeah, technically, but—”

“In fact, I’m sure his keeper’s looking for him right now, and it’s our civic duty to return lost property, isn’t it? Of course it is. Come, Diamond Tiara, let’s not dawdle.”

Diamond hardly had time to pocket the contract and secure her pigeon before Spoiled shoveled her out of the gazebo.

Three steps out, they paused at a sudden flash of gemstones and bad taste. Carat Cut prowled the edge of the wedding party, gnawing candied petals while she searched for somepony better to sink her teeth into.

Spoiled nudged Diamond back into the gazebo and out the opposite side. “Let’s not dawdle, quietly.”

Diamond Tiara followed three steps behind while Spoiled tried to sniff out a trail. “I think she bailed after my pigeon fell in the cake.” Saying it out loud might help it come true. “I know I wouldn’t stick around after something like this.”

“Oh, Dainty’s cowering around here somewhere, mark my words.” They rounded the sunroom and clipped past the servants’ quarters. Spoiled picked up the pace, head high and avoiding eye contact with the resting valets and waiters. “That cage weighs two hundred pounds, and she wouldn’t abandon a flock of three-thousand-bit birds in the middle of Canterlot. Can’t run for her life, either, the loafer.”

Never mind that Spoiled Rich herself never went faster than a menacing trot.

The sudden movements and brighter light woke the pigeon up. Two Three Seven curiously twisted his head at the moving landscape and chewed Diamond’s dress ruffle.

Feathers dusted the grass around them. Away from the festivities and the main hall, the groundskeepers likely took their time cleaning this part of the estate. Feathers, but no pigeons. In fact, Diamond hadn’t seen any pigeon besides her own since she’d hidden in the gazebo. No doves in the trees, no doves foraging in the grass or ambling down the walkway.

“They fly off and home back by instinct,” Dainty had told her. “Even this moron can do it.”

Diamond hugged the nest of silk, where the bird had begun to fidget. “It’s okay, I know you’re not a moron.”

Cooing softly, Two Three Seven squirmed and twisted about until he zeroed in on something. He cooed again. Patchy feathers on his breast and shoulders fluffed out, and his noodley neck went rigid and swung hard left.

Spoiled side-glanced the pigeon, thought a moment, and smiled. “Homing instinct.” They shifted course due south. “At least the sky rat’s good for something.”

Diamond frowned at the bird. “You know, I didn’t ask you to prove it.”

The back gates rose over the horizon, along with the steady thrum of five dozen pigeons. Ten feet to freedom, Dainty Dove galloped for her life. Threads of her golden tail streamed behind her while her legs pumped and thundered across the cobblestone path. Her white chest heaved hard beneath her tasteful dress, the tendons of her neck bowstring tight.

Behind her, a colossal cage of gold squeaked across the cobblestones. Its speed clocked somewhere around a hundred inches per hour.

Spoiled caught up in two strides. “Dainty Dove.”

“Oh, crackers!” Dainty yanked into a panicked gallop, triple time. The cage squeaked six more inches.

Long shadows fell over the birdkeeper’s withers. Spoiled Rich stepped into her path. “We need to talk.”

“Missus Rich! Why. What. A. Lovely. Surprise!” She clapped out every word in her own personal disaster countdown. Dainty’s smile gleamed while her life flashed before her eyes. “Hello again, Miss Diamond Tiara. Did you have a nice time at the wedding?”

“She was looking forward to sampling the cake,” Spoiled dryly said.

Dainty Dove swallowed a bowling ball sized lump in her throat.

“However, it appears she’s discovered something of yours in its stead.” Spoiled gave Diamond a small nudge. “My daughter has something that belongs to you.”

It’s not over yet. Diamond tucked the silk tight around the pigeon’s shoulders. It gave her hooves something to do and hold him for a little bit longer. Don’t break. You can still win this.

“I scooped him out of the frosting while everypony was yelling.” The silk brushed back to let Two Three Seven stick the rest of his neck out. “It scared him so badly, he didn’t want to move for a long time.” In fact, he still didn’t move that much. It must have been a nasty shock.

So Plan A didn’t pan out. Okay, fine. That’s why you drafted a Plan B.

Unfortunately, most of Diamond’s Plan B had relied on at least making it to the train station first. The hours spent on the train home and/or turning around to catch a train back to Canterlot would have given her precious time to form a real plan. Ideally, she’d have gotten the pigeon all the way to Ponyville, where she could rally support. (Not that Diamond Tiara couldn’t win on her own, but wise investors knew how to pool resources.)

Ponyville had Silver Spoon for brainstorming and extra bargaining power. And, assuming Whinnyapolis winds hadn’t delayed the airships, it also had Dad. Dad knew how to honor a contract.

Gently, Dainty Dove unwrapped the pigeon from the silk. She kept a tight grip with both hooves, lifting him up and down to assess the damage. “Ten feet. All I want is a measly flight of ten feet, and you couldn’t even do that.”

Number Two Three Seven burbled in protest as Dainty lifted his wings and wiped crusted frosting off his feathers. When he squirmed, she gripped him harder.

If she was a pigeon expert, why did she hold him so tight? He didn’t like it, and he obviously didn’t like being turned upside down, either. He’d just had a bad fall—an accident that could have happened to any bird here. It wasn’t his fault, and she didn’t have to hurt his feelings when he already didn’t feel good.

Forget Plan B. Plan B is dead, no funeral.

In the long run, it’d be better to do this straight and legal. Even if Dad supported the idea—and he would—that didn’t change the fact that Two Three Seven belonged to somepony else. If Spoiled hadn’t figured that out now, she would have later; a breach of contract didn’t change with the location.

“That’s that, then.” Spoiled tapped Diamond’s withers. “Come along, sweetheart. We can finally get ourselves a decent meal in town.” And a decent pet while we’re at it. She didn’t say the second part, but she didn’t have to.

No use crying over sunk cost. What can you do now?

The empty napkins twisted in Diamond’s hooves. She took in her stepmother, the dove keeper, and the heart-shaped cage with sixty-five wedding doves. Sixty-five, caught in mid-escape.

By the time Diamond found pigeon Two Three Seven, he’d fallen out of the cake and onto the ground. He’d been splayed out on the grass where the waiters or wedding guests could have trampled him. Carat Cut’s awful little dog with the smushed face could have eaten him. More likely, Carat would have ordered a servant to dump him into the street to get smashed by a carriage.

And I bet you don’t even care. The napkin wrapped around Diamond’s fetlock until it cut off the circulation. Her hot blue stare burned into the back of Dainty’s neck. Because you tried to abandon him.

Two Three Seven had gone limp in his keeper’s hoof, too tired or too overpowered to struggle. The dark noodly neck swung in midair like a pendulum, save for the white eye that stayed focused on Diamond and never seemed to move at all.

Diamond stepped forward. “How much?”

“Yeah,” Dainty sighed. “Knew that was coming.” She flicked out a checkbook. “Okay, I can cover a percentage of the cake damages in monthlies, but if you want a down payment right now or a lump sum, I need time to stop by the bank—”

“No.” She pointed. “How much for the menace?”

Spoiled’s nose crinkled. “I am not paying to keep that… creature in my house.”

A hefty little sack jingled in Diamond’s pocket. She cupped it and lobbed a spare frown to her stepmother before continuing, “I’ve been saving my allowance; I’ll make a down payment right now.” Those bits were supposed to be for bird treats and a new currycomb, but whatever.

“Have some sense, Diamond.” Spoiled flicked her tail in the bedraggled bird’s direction. “The animal’s damaged goods; he can’t be worth that much.”

True. Which was why Diamond never actually said how much she’d brought. Her hoof pawed through the top layer of bits. The final count came around to six hundred and ninety. She wished that she hadn’t tipped the driver this morning.

Before Spoiled could kill the haggle, Diamond started the opening bid at, “Forty bits.”

Dainty Dove goggled at the both of them. “For the menace?” She jiggled the pigeon in her hooves. “This one?”

“Yes. I want that one.” After a second thought, Diamond added, “Please.”

Spoiled glanced between the pigeon keeper and the filly. “Diamond. Sweetheart.” Panic laced the edge of her voice. “I’m sure Miss Dove is already attached to—”

The bird plopped into Diamond’s hooves. “He’s on the house.”

“Wait, but—”

Dainty shoved a pile of papers in Diamond’s mouth. “There’s his vet records, pedigree papers, breed line, everything.”

“You can’t just dump your—”

“You can get a book on the specifics, but he mostly eats seeds, grains, chickpeas, and checkbooks.” Dainty pulled a tattered bundle of paper out of her breast pocket. “I’m not kidding about that last one. Stick to hard coins.”

The pigeon’s head rolled upside down in Diamond’s shuffle not to drop anything and talk with a muzzle full of documents. “And he’s free? Really?” She’d been willing to go upwards of a thousand. (Dad could have allocated a small loan.)

“Free, and no strings attached.” Dainty shook her head with a light smile as Diamond cuddled the raggedy pigeon. “Besides, you’ve obviously made friends. I’ve never seen anypony hold him this long without throwing a fit.”

Spoiled glared at the languid bird, then at Dainty. “There could be more than one reason for that. Don’t you think?”

Dainty Dove blinked at her innocently. “Well, who are we to stand in the way of true friendship, Mrs. Rich?”

Come to think of it, her pigeon did seem to move slower than he had a while ago. Not as much fidgeting or cooing. He didn’t even need the napkins to keep him still anymore. Diamond scratched his upside-down chin. “It’s been a long day, so he’s probably tired.” She kissed the tip of his little pink beak.

Spoiled Rich yelped in abject horror.

Dainty coughed into her hoof. “Yeah, maybe get some mouthwash if you’re going to kiss him. The mouth-burning kind.” She glanced at Spoiled, who continued to glower at her. “What? He’s already free; it’s not like I’m scamming you. She likes him, that’s not my fault. I sure as sugar can’t do a thing with him; he’s already off the breeding roster and flies like a baked potato.”

Papers shuffled and feathers ruffled while Diamond tried to balance the bird and read his papers at the same time. Unless she learned hornless levitation in the next two seconds, something had to give.

Pigeon Two Three Seven flapped in minor surprise as Diamond lifted him up to tiara height.

“Do me a favor and don’t do anything gross until we get home, okay?” Thank goodness for mane insurance.

Little claws dug into her scalp while he nibbled at strands of shampooed hair. Maybe if he stayed up there long enough, he’d come out smelling like Strawberry & Cream Sensation. The bird’s weight settled in the crook of the tiara, and Diamond could feel the warmth of his little body through her mane. Cooing rumbled in her ears.

“Why yes, it is a luxury ride. No, you don’t need to thank me. Better than the napkins, right?” Certainly better than sharing a cage with sixty other pigeons. Diamond flicked an ear in Spoiled’s direction. She didn’t need to see her face to know the expression. “I’ll wash it again when we get home.”

The pedigree papers had unfurled in the shuffle. Diamond sat back on her haunches to keep her head steady, squinting at the tiny mouthwriting.

Aviary: East Canterlot’s High Rollers

Birthdate: 06/04/1002

Category: Fancy/Tumbler

Breed: Trottingham Magpie Pigeon

Color: Blk

Registered Number: #237

Registered Title: E. Canterlot’s Menace II Society

Diamond quirked an eyebrow. “You literally named him Menace?” And were the Roamin numerals really necessary?

At the sound of his name, Menace poked his head through the tiers of the tiara and blinked at her upside down.

“After his sire, yes.” Dainty indicated the family tree beneath the show records. Apparently, the original Menace to Society had taken first place seven years in a row. “Too bad it didn’t run in the family.”

“Isn’t there a basket or something to stuff that into?” Spoiled tried to shoo the bird away from the tiara in a limp-hoofed wave.

Menace bobbed his neck, following the polished hoof above his head. He flicked his tattered tail against Diamond’s ears and burbled curiously. The tip of his beak poked the soft center of Spoiled’s hoof.

Spoiled yanked it back with a revolted grimace.

Menace tried to follow, slipped forward, and almost tumbled off Diamond’s head, tiara and all.

“See? He likes both of you already.” Dainty poked the pigeon’s head back through the tiers and nudged the tiara into place. “Sweet little filly befriends a lost little bird: beauty from the ashes of tragedy. It’s practically a fairy tale—you could sell the book rights tomorrow.” That mile-long smile wouldn’t fool a yearling. “And best of all, nopony needs to be fired for circumstances beyond her control!”

Spoiled Rich blinked slowly.

The smile sank. “...I’m fired, aren’t I?”

“Incinerated.”

With that, Spoiled turned to go, but paused a moment. Thoughtfully, her tail curled upward. “However.”

Both of Dainty’s white ears pricked.

“However, I might be convinced otherwise. If...”

The mares exchanged knowing looks. Together, they inspected the grubby little bird in the tiara.

Diamond Tiara clenched her jaw and glared.

Neither pony acknowledged her. Dainty clicked her tongue in thought. “Today’s gig ran what, fifty bits a head?”

“Up fifteen from last time, yes, with thirty-three hundred altogether. I’d be willing to ignore this incident of gross negligence and stay your continuing rate at that number. Regardless of flock size.” Spoiled shot Menace another glance, as if reconsidering the price range, then shook her head.

Technically, that meant Spoiled already paid for Menace either way. Fifty bits sounded low for a purchase. Was it a rental price, since she’d only borrowed him for the flight?

“I can still pay for him...” Nopony acknowledged her, and Diamond didn’t really blame them.

Rentals ran about a quarter of full price; she could run that, but it wouldn’t matter. Dainty had shifted back on the fence, and it’d take more than a fair asking price to turn her again. Even if Diamond pooled her current allowance, plus savings, plus the pageant winnings not locked in college funds, it only came out to five thousand bits rounded up. More than Spoiled’s deal for one gig, but those jobs repeated at least six times a year.

She’d been officially outbid. Time for a different strategy.

Diamond’s wide eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “But you already said I could have him.” It may have been weak to cry in public, but they weren’t in public right now and all rules had asterisks. Tears were a commodity like any other. Frugal investors used their assets wisely.

“Oh, gosh.” Dainty Dove rubbed the back of her neck. “Mrs. Rich, she does seem awfully attached…”

Menace let his weight rest against the tiara. One wing dangled from Diamond’s head, languishing halfway between a hug and a miserable slump. He gave a sickly little coo, and Dainty’s frown grew.

So did Spoiled’s. “Yes,” she said, “that’s the problem.” She whispered something in the keeper’s ear, and the white pony frowned. Spoiled whispered something else.

“That’s not for sure, Mrs. Rich. You’ve got the vet records, he’s already healthy—”

Spoiled’s whisper rose to a low hiss. “Records from last month, before it fell into a cake. Don’t be naïve, mare. Look at it.”

Dainty looked.

Diamond adjusted her tiara, guarding her bird with one hoof.

Spoiled Rich sighed. “She’s just a little filly, Dove. She’s not ready for it.”

What was that supposed to mean? Diamond pursed her lips. “I’m not that little. I can take care of a bird, Mother, it can’t be that hard.” She nudged the dangling wing back into place. “If I need extra help, I can always ask Fluttershy.”

Something seemed to click for Dainty Dove. “Oh.”

It wasn’t a good sort of ‘oh’. It was the kind that came after a bad day on Stall Street or forgetting your homework.

Dainty switched back to that syrupy You’re-Too-Dumb-For-Grownup-Words voice. “Heeey, honey, I know you guys got off on the right hoof and all, but are you really sure you want that pigeon?” She gestured to the cage behind her. “Listen, I’ve got a grand champion Magpie on the nest right now—spitting image of Menace II Society. After the next clutch hatches, she’s all yours. On the house, same as before.”

The wing had fallen out again. Diamond tucked it behind her ear. “No deal.”

“She’s the next best thing. Better, even.”

“The next best thing’s just a first-place loser. Everypony knows that.” Only an idiot got talked out of a closed sale. Diamond stamped her hoof. “No. Deal. You gave me the papers already. I want Menace. He’s mine.”

Spoiled narrowed her eyes. “Sixty bits a head.”

“Hmm.” Dainty leaned against the cage while she mused. “Four thousand a gig, or put up with the menace for another month...” Another glance a Diamond, then at Menace. She shuddered. “Bird’s yours, kid.”

Diamond Tiara humphed. “Good.”

“Don’t know what you see in him, but whatever. It’s your funeral.” Dainty checked her watch. “And mine’s up in an hour! Come on guys, let’s get to the cemetery.”

Spoiled nipped her heels all the way to the end of the lawn. “Wait! What about seventy a head?”

“Not worth it.”

“Eighty.”

“Taxi!”

“Ninety a head and a free ride to the cemetery!” Dread crept into Spoiled’s face. “A-a hundred?”

“Sorry, ma’am. At least you’re not losing any money from it; you can probably just use a nest for the next couple days and be fine.” Dainty paused as the taxi rolled up to the gate. “Am I still fired?”

“Yes.”

“In that case, I lied. That dress makes you look like a boiled onion.”

The last chance to weasel out of her contract pulled away and melted into Canterlot’s steady traffic flow. For a time, she watched it in some last-ditch hope it might turn around. When it finally pulled out of sight, Spoiled rubbed her temples and turned around.

The frown had vanished, along with her work smile. She bore a thin slash of a mouth, glacial and blunt. Circumstances aside, Diamond Tiara couldn’t help but welcome the sight of Spoiled’s real face.

“Diamond.” Spoiled paused to rearrange her opening argument. “Diamond, I know we had a deal, and I know that you’ve become attached to the bird, but—”

“But nothing! I’m on the honor roll, I kept my room clean, I didn’t get in trouble, and I didn’t complain about the wedding I didn’t even want to go to, not even once. I even made Class Treasurer, and maybe it’s not President, but it still looks good on college stuff.” Diamond took Menace off her head and into her hooves, just in case somepony tried to snatch him again. “I did my part, Mother. You do yours.”

Menace’s little toes curled around Diamond’s horseshoe. His head rocked sideways, dangling over the edge of her fetlocks.

Everypony said that you had to give respect to get respect, but that only counted between adult ponies. Foals had to respect whoever had been alive longer than them. It didn’t matter if they’d earned it. It didn't matter if they deserved it.

Which means the contract doesn’t matter, either. The stirrings of tears—the awful, pointless, stupid, real kind—pricked the corners of Diamond’s eyes. She blinked them back and sniffed hard. “Just because you’re bigger, it doesn’t mean you don’t have to keep your promises.”

Spoiled rubbed the bridge of her muzzle, groaning into her hoof. “Sun’s sake, do you need to make a production out of everything? It’s not a pony, it’s a bird, and not even one of the particularly smart ones. It’s barely even sentient.”

“That’s got nothing to do with—”

“With the contract. Yes. I know.” Another pause to regroup. “We can’t keep it. Any other bird, fine; maybe even one outside the contract. But not this one.”

“Why?!” Diamond’s sudden volume spike sent Menace into a flapping fit.

“Diamond Dazzle Tiara, you are not stupid; don’t condescend to me pretending that you are.” Spoiled glared at the pigeon. “You know why.”

“What, because he’s missing a few feathers? Because he fell into the cake? Mother, that was an accident and you know it! It wouldn’t have even happened if Dainty didn’t make him fly when he didn’t feel good.” Despite his cooing protests, Diamond hugged Menace tighter. “There’s nothing wrong with Menace. Nothing!”

Spoiled Rich blinked. She shook her head, laughing softly, though there was nothing to laugh about. “‘Nothing wrong with him.’” Another laugh—more like a sigh, really. “I-I don’t even know if you’re being obstinate or if you’re just that delusional.”

Neither, but if her stepmother wanted obstinate, Diamond wasn’t about to deny her. “Menace is beautiful.” She held him up to admire his distinctive charm. “He’s avant-garde with new-wave aesthetics.”

“Hmph. ‘Avant-garde’ is a weasel word used to trick ignorant ponies out of their money for something somepony vomited on a canvas.” Spoiled sniffed. “So, I guess you’re not wrong.”

Like that mattered; Cheerilee said nopony ever appreciated masterpieces in their time, either. Besides, art appreciated in value. Menace just needed to settle in.

The top of Menace’s head pressed under Diamond’s chin. She felt his cooing in the hollow of her throat. “Just give him a chance. Look, I’ll keep him in my room. You’ll never even have to see him or take care of him or anything.”

The gravel walkway crunched as Spoiled knelt to Diamond’s eye level. “I’m sorry you’ve grown so attached. I really am. You can learn to love another bird. In the long run, it’ll be the best thing.”

She glanced at Menace again, and Diamond couldn’t grasp the expression. Not disgust or disdain, something else. Sadder, maybe?

Diamond frowned. Did Spoiled actually feel bad about this?

Spoiled patted her withers. “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

Apparently, she didn’t feel that bad. Not enough to matter. Sure, maybe Spoiled was willing to try a token gesture of togetherness and bonding, so long as it didn’t take any real work on her part.

Diamond flattened her ears. Her stomach still growled, but she’d stopped caring about that a long time ago. “No, I’m pretty sure I understand right now. It’s not the first time my mom wouldn’t keep her promise.”

The moment she said it, Diamond regretted it. She had said it to hurt Spoiled (and it did) and because it was true. Nothing hurt more than the truth, but the shrapnel of it ricocheted and struck her in the face. Now Diamond couldn’t stop thinking about when she’d asked Mom to come for Family Appreciation Day last year. Or last winter, when Mom said she’d visit for Hearth’s Warming and then sent a drum kit instead. Or any of the other times she’d lost count of.

Silence fell over the yard. Diamond never knew Spoiled’s teal eyes could stretch that big. They matched delicate panels of her dress that fluttered in a cross-breeze.

“I wanted,” Spoiled softly said, “to do something nice for you. I thought if we started on the same page with terms we could both agree on…” Her eyes scrunched tight. “You did this on purpose.”

Lost, Diamond stared back at her. “What?”

“You… you took a gesture of kindness and twisted it.” Spoiled’s voice had become so quiet, Diamond strained to hear her. “That’s why you chose the worst possible option. Isn’t it?”

Diamond blinked. “I—what? N-no I didn’t.” Why did the truth always end up sounding like a bad lie?

Spoiled blinked back. “Alright.” She brushed the gravel off her skirt, stood to full height, and strolled back down the gravel path.

Diamond toddled on three legs to catch up. “Mother! I didn’t!”

“Keep your voice down. We’re still at a wedding.”

Menace squirmed in Diamond’s tightening grip and began to burble unhappily. Sometime in the past few minutes, he’d pooped on her dress.

“I didn’t go looking for Menace on purpose, we just sort of… um…”

“Save it. You win, Diamond.”

Spoiled bundled the pigeon’s papers and shoved them into her purse. “I tried, but so be it. Keep the gutterbird if you want to. Full ride, as promised: cage, birdbath, food, whatever.” She cast one last glance at Menace. “So much good as that will do him. Whatever happens, you brought it on yourself.”

You Can't Hurry Dove

As the newest member of the Rich family, Menace II Society deserved only the best. How would he know much they loved him, otherwise? Stuff by itself (as Dad liked pointing out every Hearth’s Warming) didn’t directly correlate to love, but ponies ought to give their loved ones all they were able. Money meant action, and action spoke louder than words. What good did money do just sitting in the bank if you never used it to make other ponies happy?

For Menace, love meant a custom-sculpted marble birdbath with a fountain and his name engraved in gold. Unfortunately, love also needed six to eight days for delivery. Six to eight days they didn’t have.

Randolph knitted his snowy eyebrows at the soggy little bird in the middle of the candy dish. Menace sat in the water and stared back at him. Neither had moved for the past fifteen minutes. Unfortunately, Menace knew he deserved top quality too, and wouldn’t accept anything less.

Any other day, Diamond would have been proud of him. Today, though… “Look, it’s just a little emergency bath. You’ll be in and out in like, ten seconds. The new birdbath will be here in a couple of days, I promise, but Dad’s coming home in an hour.” She splashed his wings to get him started. “It’s the best dish we have—genuine crystal, see? It’s a limited edition all the way from the Empire.”

The fancy logo and I.D. number stamped on the bowl left little impression. Menace puffed his feathers when droplets ran down his wingtips, and he shook himself once, but that was all. He’d gone from a raggedy cake terrorist to a heap of waterlogged feathers. The last remnants of icing washed off the moment he hit the water, but gunk still stuck to his tail, and stains marred the white feathers around his legs.

One of the maids coughed discreetly and cracked a window. Somehow, water only aggravated the bird poop stench, and now the bathroom smelled like a Manehattan train station on the wrong side of town. A ring of shedded feathers floated on the water in slow orbit; the bald patches on Menace’s chest had doubled in size. The last few prickly wet feathers poked out of his skin like somepony had smacked them on with glue at the last second.

The book Diamond bought said that pigeons loved baths. Did that not count for all breeds? Maybe pedigrees needed special rosewater rinses or something. She tried giving him another little splash. “I don’t get it. If I’d had the day you had, I’d jump in a bathtub the first chance I got.”

Menace couldn’t have been tired because he’d slept the whole ride home. He’d been clean in the wedding cage, so he must have known how to bathe himself. Dainty didn’t seem the type to spoil her doves to the point of hoof-washing them, and even if she did, she wouldn’t have bothered hoof-washing Menace.

Stubbornness. That’s all it could be. Pure stubbornness.

“Dad’s gonna be home soon. You don’t want to meet him like this, do you?” Not that Menace wasn’t perfect already, but nopony held a grand opening without wiping down the counters first. Menace had to come at this swinging. Whatever bad press Spoiled fed to Dad would have the whole walk home to simmer. “You only have to use the dish once. It’ll be marble and gold every single day after that, I promise.”

Tightlipped, Randolph watched the process from the sidelines. He blinked slowly at Dusty Trails, the maid who’d opened the window. She nodded and fetched a small pitcher of warm water from the sink.

Diamond stopped her with a hoof. “No, give him a sec to do it himself.” Steepling her hooves, she tilted her head in thought. Menace reached to nip at her mane, slipped on the glass, and flopped onto his side. “Do you think he wants to soak first? Is our bubble bath safe for pigeons?”

Randolph considered it and shook his head. He tapped Diamond’s shoulder, then his pocket watch. Ten-thirty. Dad came home in twenty minutes. Twenty-five if he stopped for Ponyville small talk.

“Come on, Menace. Please?” Diamond sat him right side up. At least he’d gotten himself good and wet all over.

Menace sat in the water like a rubber duck with a hole in the bottom. A rubber duck with a floppy neck and moth-eaten sweater from a donation bin.

“Okay, I’ll do it for you this one time. Deal?”

Menace drank some of his bathwater.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” She reached for the pitcher, but Randolph shook his head while the maid moved to the opposite side of the candy dish. “I don’t mind, I can do it myself.” The pitcher raised out of reach when she tried to grab it again. “I want to—hey!”

Dusty Trails offered an apologetic smile. “I know you do, Miss, but Madame Rich prefers it otherwise. Don’t worry, I know my way around birds. My sister kept parrots.”

Diamond rolled her eyes. As if a ten-pound hoof-chomping noise machine is anything like my Menace.

Water drizzled around the pigeon’s wings while Dusty’s free hoof massaged his feathers. He flicked his tail and shook himself a bit. Not exactly bathing himself, but close enough.

Can’t argue results, though. Which just made it worse. Diamond rested her chin on the counter in what Spoiled would have called a sulk. “I’m not gonna catch anything from him. He rode on my head all day yesterday; a bath’s not gonna matter. Randolph already put the cage together, so I should get to do something. He’s my bird.”

“You might get your lovely pink coat wet,” Dusty told her.

“So? That’s, like, why we have towels?”

“I’m sorry, Miss, but I’ve got my instructions.” Meaning that was that. Unlike Randolph, Dusty Trails had come packaged with Spoiled’s wardrobe, potted plants, and bad interior design opinions. She wouldn’t budge.

We don’t even need maids in the first place. Randolph’s been here since before Dad was born, and we always did fine. Okay, maybe Diamond used to leave the living room a little messy sometimes, but a lived-in space had charm. He could still manage the mansion on his own without anypony else. What a waste of bits.

Diamond felt eyes upon her. Above her head, the butler smiled and winked; one of his silent little signals that everything would turn out right in the end. It did make her feel a little better, but Diamond flicked her tail and held onto her sulk anyway. “Getting on in years,” my hoof. He doesn’t look a day over ninety.

Something dripped on her nose. Menace had waded over to investigate, water sliding off the tip of his beak. His head twisted upside down to blink at her.

“You know, wild pigeons take baths in puddles. You’re lucky you even have a bowl to—HAY!” Water splattered Diamond’s face in a spray of feathers. “I’M not the one who needs a bath!”

Dusty Trails bit back a laugh and apologized. “At least he seems to feel a bit better now. Come here, you.” Before the bird could scramble away, she gathered him in a tea towel and held him up for inspection. Menace pecked her eyebrow.

“Do you think he’s nervous? Like stage fright?” Diamond wouldn’t really blame him. If she’d been through a crowd of shrieking socialites all day and then got dunked in a new house full of strangers, she might not want a bath either.

“It could be that he’s never been indoors before, Miss Tiara.” Ignoring the beak biting at her apron, Dusty slicked Menace’s raggedy tail feathers into something semi-presentable. “It’s a good thing you’ve done, you know. Not everypony would take in a bird like this.”

“Yeah, I know. Most ponies have awful taste.”

The tea towel patted off the rest of the excess water and Dusty let him loose on the sink counter. Menace twirled in a circle, fluffed himself, and perched on the faucet. He blinked twice and promptly fell into the sink.

“Their loss, Miss Tiara.” Dusty flipped Menace upright, then tugged the lace of her apron out of the pigeon’s beak. Randolph’s eyebrows scrunched up again, and the two servants exchanged another glance.

Menace tilted his head at his wobbly reflection in the coin, following the other bird’s identical movements in the gold. A loose down feather curled in the reflection’s feet. Twitching his wings, he peered at the feather between his own toes and picked it off.

Satisfied, Menace hopped on Filthy’s leg and snatched the bit from his hoof. The thin feathers on his neck raised in a defiant little ruff. With a flick of his tail, he jogged back across the bench to Diamond’s side, still nibbling the coin.

Dad laughed. “Well, he knows the value of a bit! Can’t fault him for that.” He settled in the crook of the bench cushion, smiling at the rest of the room.

Diamond Tiara waved her legs over the opposite side of the bench and smiled back. Spoiled Rich made an effort to do the same, though she never quite got there. She leaned against the game room wall, perched on a stool beside the soda bar. Close enough to be part of the action, but still a safe distance from the bird.

The bit twinkled in Menace’s beak. He pressed against the bench backboard, watching Dad’s hoof creep across the upholstery. The second it reached for the coin, Menace smacked it with a wing.

“Fine, keep it. Got more bits where that’s from, anyhow.” Rubbing his fetlock, Dad glanced at the rest of his family. “Have to admit, I’m a little confused. I thought you said we were getting a dog.”

Spoiled’s half-smile twitched. “No, Fil, you’re the one who said we should get a dog.”

Not to mention all the other hints. Luxury dog beds, water bowls, and leashes had been gathering dust in the store’s backroom for weeks. According to Dad, they were overstock items from the Canterlot branch. Nopony believed him.

“As it happened,” Spoiled said, “Diamond decided to pick out a bird all on her own.” The sentence held no malice, but Diamond’s hackles rose anyway.

Dad’s left ear flicked up. His gaze ricocheted between Diamond and Menace, then Spoiled, then back to Menace. The pigeon’s neck lolled backwards, the bit still in beak.

The mood of the room shifted.

“Oh, I see.” Nothing changed in Dad’s face or his tone or his posture. Twenty years of salespony experience had sculpted a poker face perfect for mediating peace talks and boardroom negotiations. He didn’t acknowledge his wife’s pointed look, nor his daughter’s bristling coat, and pushed on as if nothing had happened at all. “Any particular reason, Diamond?”

“Uh.” A shadow passed across the bench. Diamond twitched her ears and tried to ignore it.

Out of Diamond’s periphery, Spoiled had shifted out of her sullen little corner and into the conversation. She met Dad’s eye for a second and muttered something under her breath.

The poker face wavered. “I’m sure,” Dad gently said, “that’s not the reason, Spoils.” He kept it quiet, but still audible. Meant to be heard by everypony in the room. From the way Dad frowned at Menace’s bare feather patches, though, he wasn’t a hundred percent sure—ninety, ninety-seven, tops.

So she did get to him first. Of course she did. A hot bubble swelled in Diamond’s throat. Rainbows shimmered through Menace’s neck feathers. It gave her eyes somewhere to look besides up. Spiteful glares would only prove Spoiled’s case.

The bubble in her throat burned too hot to swallow. “I got him because I LIKE him.” No. Wrong thing to say. Too defensive. Too mad. Too childish and stupid and it just dug her deeper. The room got quiet. She felt Dad looking at her without the poker face. Concerned. Concerned was worse than mad. Diamond didn’t know why, but it was.

Diamond swallowed hard, counted to ten (she only got to seven, but Doctor Belfry would’ve still called it a good try), and finally brought her head up.

No sign of Spoiled. One thing Diamond Tiara could say for her, the mare at least knew when to give her space. Usually. Fifty bits said she was lurking in the hall with her ear to the door, but whatever. Space was space.

With some coaxing, Menace wobbled onto Diamond’s hoof. His little feet kept slipping off her horseshoe and couldn’t stay balanced. Diamond shifted to the side and put him on her withers instead. His head dangled off the edge of her collarbone, still holding the coin he’d snatched.

Quieter, Diamond said, “I just like him is all.” Cooing rumbled in her ear. “Do I need another reason?”

“No, darlin’, that’s a plenty good reason. It’s just that I wonder…” Dad paused to fish for the right terminology, shook his head, and tried again. He curled his legs under him and edged closer, now at eye level. Take two. “Okay. Now, we all agreed to try and talk more honestly about our feelings, right?”

“Right. And I honestly gave you the reason: I like him.”

It didn’t take. “Ponies can have more than one reason for doing something, Diamond. They almost always do, even though they don’t always know it.”

Meaning one of two options: talk now, or clam up, wait it out, and talk later. If she said she didn’t want to talk about it, then Dad would drop the subject without another word. That meant a postponement, not a cancellation.

A train of pinball machines lined the back wall of the game room, with the bench placed square in the middle. Diamond Tiara rested her chin on the backboard, examining the closest one: the one Mom bought on her last business trip with Dad. Melted faces of Marshian zombies snarled and moaned across the cabinet, their jaws attached by thin strings of muscle and sinew.

The subject would crawl back to them eventually, and when it did, it could be worse. Hiding only let it fester and gave Spoiled more time to build her case against the “cake terrorist”. Besides, silence looked guilty. Adults said it didn’t, but Diamond knew better.

“Mother told you I got Menace just to spite her. Didn’t she?” Diamond glanced back at her father already preparing a rebuttal and met him at the pass. “Fine, maybe she didn’t put it in those words, but it’s what she meant.”

“She does have her doubts, yes. Which is why—Diamond, honey, look at me.” Dad gently tilted her chin around. “Which is why it’s important we try to be honest with each other; that way, we’ll all know where we stand. Can’t move forward if you don’t know where you already are, right?”

“I guess.”

“You and Spoiled aren’t in competition against each other, and I’m not here to take sides. I want to understand what’s happening, that’s all. Fair enough?”

Diamond’s hoof traced the wood grain along the edge of the bench. Menace hopped off her shoulder and followed it. “We got mad at each other at the wedding. She didn’t like Menace and tried to find a way out of the contract and—“

Dad sat up. “Wait. Wedding?” He frowned. “The Lace-Snapshot wedding?”

“Yeah, he’s one of the wedding doves.” Had nopony mentioned that part? “So I don’t get why she doesn’t like him—he’s got papers and breeding and all that fancy stuff, and he’s part of a wedding ceremony. Spoiled loves all of that stuff! Like, I get that she’s mad at him for falling in the cake, but I wanted him before any of that stuff happened.”

Bored with Diamond’s hoof, Menace wobbled along the bench. He had only two directions to go (four, counting the floor and the ceiling) but he still couldn’t seem to choose one. Menace took a few steps to the right, pivoted, and stumbled in a circle. Six steps to the left, another circle. After a few tries, it dissolved into just circles within circles. Twirling around that way, no wonder he fell over all the time.

“Menace. Hey.” Diamond clicked her tongue. The pigeon turned to look, but his neck couldn’t keep up with his head and flopped over. His body went on without it, dragging his head along like a rolling suitcase.

Dad blinked. “Um.”

“And really, who wouldn’t pick him?” Diamond gently tipped her bird’s head right-side-up so Dad could see his big white eyes and all the oil slick rainbows in his neck. “He’s like no other dove in the cage—no other dove in Equestria, probably. Menace is an exclusive one-time-only limited platinum edition. Why would I want some lame off-the-rack canary or whatever when I can get a designer dove for free? Look at him!”

With a slight tug at his collar, Dad watched while Menace tripped over his own feet and fell backwards with a surprised little coo. “Y-yes, he sure is something, all right. Very… uh...” He glanced at Diamond’s slight frown. “Unique!”

Menace jumped at the sudden noise and rolled off the bench in an inelegant synthesis of flailing wings and scrambling legs. A generous pony might have called it a break-dance. Falling with style, perhaps. He righted himself, shook himself off, and pooped on the plush carpet.

“I can train him not to do that.” Probably. “He’s not just a pretty face, he’s smart, too. Maybe we can get him to only poop in his cage and on ugly buildings. He’s…” A slow frown drew across Diamond’s muzzle. Unique.

Wasn’t that one of Mom’s “loser words”? One of those terms used by parents of ninth and tenth placers to make their foals feel better about going home with a participation ribbon instead of a trophy. A word to shelter failures from their own mediocrity. A cushion for the truth.

“Daddy? Do you mean ‘unique’ like a specially tailored Carousel Boutique dress, or like how Miss Cheerilee calls Scootaloo’s singing voice?”

“Like a serial number at the bottom of a paycheck.”

Diamond fought back a smile. “Good answer.”

“Thanks, I thought so too.” Under the bench, flashes of black and white jumped to bite at Dad’s tail dangling off the edge. Dad pulled it up and out of reach. “So, does—Menace, is it?—does he know how to fly?”

“He flew right into a giant cake,” Diamond pointed out, “and he flew around in his old cage, too.”

“I mean since then.”

“Oh.” Diamond Tiara thought about it. “No, not really. He tried it in my room for a second, but then he decided to take it easy instead.”

Actually, Menace had managed about a foot of air before crashing into Diamond’s walk-in closet. He’d been spiraling and looping the way Rainbow Dash did that one time she drank half a barrel of Apple cider by herself. Dad didn’t need to know that part.

“He didn’t move much after the crash; falling in a cake in front of all those ponies at the party freaked him out a lot.” The poor guy had been too scared to move for almost an hour. “Maybe he’s got that past-traumatic thing? You know, like the books we saw on Doctor Belfry’s shelf?”

“It’s not impossible.” Dad offered the pigeon the tip of his hoof. Menace puffed his wings and grabbed Dad’s cufflink. He kept his grip on the shiny little metal even as Dad’s foreleg lifted into the air. The tips of his toes barely scraped the carpet as Menace dangled by his scrawny neck. Dad laughed. “You know, I can’t help but get to thinkin’ that you’re somethin’ of a hoof-full, mister.”

Diamond smiled at that. Normally, Dad just brought out the southernisms for playful dogs and foals small enough to ride in shopping carts. “See? I know a key investment when I see one, and so does he. Right, Menace?”

Menace sneezed and plopped on the carpet.

“Right.”

Diamond gathered her bird into her hooves so he could sit on her lap. He looked sleepy again, and she wondered if Menace’s old home had been too loud or busy for a decent night’s rest. “The birdkeeper pony didn’t want him after he fell in the cake, but I don’t think she ever wanted him.”

Dad’s cufflinks glinted as he readjusted them and watched Menace rest against Diamond’s leg. Instead of tucking in his wings, he let them hang at his sides with the feathers all fanned out. “Hm. What makes you say that?”

“You should have seen the way she looked at him—like he belonged in a garbage can… like a problem instead of a bird. She kept joking about feeding him to a cat and acted like every little thing he did was part of some scheme to ruin her life.” Diamond lashed her tail with a snort. “Right, like her life’s just so important. It’s HER fault Menace crashed in the first place because he shouldn’t have been at a wedding anyway, and then he didn’t want to get up after he fell, and she never bothered looking for him or anything. She was just gonna leave him to rot, Dad! For something that he couldn’t even help! I mean, would you let someone go back to somepony who didn’t treat them right?”

For a little while, Dad sat in the empty game room and didn’t say anything. He scratched the fur under his sleeve cuffs, watching the flashing lights on the pinball machines. Then, “I wouldn’t feel right about it either, no. And if we’d already come to be friends, I expect I’d feel obliged to do right by them.”

At least somepony in this house got it. Feathers rubbed against Diamond’s neck. The pigeon’s little nails dug into her coat as he climbed over her legs, staring at the tiara glimmering above him. He gladly accepted Diamond’s offer to give him a lift up to her head.

Black tail feathers poked out of the side of the tiara and brushed against Diamond’s ear. “Anyway, that’s—cut it out, that tickles—that’s why Menace lives here now. I think he’s glad to have his own place.” She rose slowly to keep him from losing his balance. “Do you want to see it?”

“The cage? Why, I’d love to.”

“Awesome, come on.” Diamond grabbed his hoof, rounded the billiards table, and led the way into the hall, and almost ran right smack into Spoiled Rich.

“Oh!” The watering can she’d been holding dropped from her mouth. (Randolph caught it before it hit the ground and silently assumed the mantle of watering the hallway plants in her stead.) “I didn’t notice you there, dear.” Spoiled smoothed her mane and cleared her throat. “I thought the ficuses could use some water.”

Menace bobbed his head at Spoiled’s gold necklace. He cooed and stretched for it.

“I see your father’s become acquainted with the new…” Clearing her throat, Spoiled shifted out of pecking range. “…member of the family.”

“I have, yes. Interesting little fellow, isn’t he?” Dad slipped between Diamond and Spoiled as they eased into a lazy stroll down the hallway.

The glittering necklace bobbed out of range. Menace stretched his neck over Dad’s withers, cooing his disapproval.

“As I hear it, you two found him at the Lily Lace wedding, Spoiled.” The easy pace and soft voice said Dad wasn’t mad, but the fact that he had to soften it in the first place meant that he wasn’t happy either. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I didn’t think that weekend was supposed to be a work trip.”

The fur around Spoiled’s cutie mark prickled. “It wasn’t, but try telling that to Carat I’m-Invited-To-The-Gala-And-Need-To-Bump-The-Ceremony-A-Week Cut. She switched the whole thing and didn’t think to tell me until three days before the fact. It’s a miracle the wedding went through at all.”

“What an exotic middle name. Do you suppose Ms. Cut’s part Mustangian?”

“After all that fuss over her filly marrying into a mixed family? I highly doubt it.” Spoiled lashed her tail and shot Dad a glance. “And no, she wouldn’t reschedule, fee or no fee.”

The calm strained. “Alright.” Dad’s tone never changed, but the syllables began to clot together. Came shorter and faster. Frustrated. “But wouldn’t it have been easier to leave Diamond with your sister for the morning instead?”

The air weighed heavy on Diamond’s withers. Her eyes flicked between both parents.

“Leave her to Honeymilk’s servants, you mean? Absolutely not. I promised we’d spend the day together, and that’s what I intended to do. We planned this for months, Filthy.”

“Exactly, which is why it would have been better to have a day to yourselves instead of trying to balance it with a wedding. There’s a difference between quality and quantity time, y’know.”

This discussion was riding a fast track to a Discussion. A Discussion they didn’t want to have in front of her because it was a Discussion about her. Diamond felt herself shiver. Just like all the other fights about her.

You wrecked it, Diamond.

The room shrank to a pinprick and all of a sudden the walls and rug and furniture and her own body felt miles away, and that was so STUPID because she was sitting right here in the middle of it.

Diamond Tiara’s ribs clutched her lungs tight. So tight she couldn’t breathe. You wrecked it and you didn’t even mean to. It’s just what you do. You ruin ponies.

Discussions never stayed Discussions. Soon, there’d be shouting. Crying. Bad words. Slammed doors in the middle of the night. Broken dishes in the kitchen. Noise and noise and silence louder than all that noise put together. Courthouses. Separate bedrooms. Separate breakfasts. Separate everything because she—

Stop. Her throat squeezed shut. No. NO, you don’t get to cry about it. Winners don’t cry. Diamond swallowed hard. She did it again and again until her eyes weren’t blurry anymore.

Deep breaths.

You made this mess. You fix it. Now. Before it gets worse.

Another breath. Okay, time to put that crown on her flank to work. “Actually, I’m glad I went to the wedding.”

The tension clapped out like a bad dream. Spoiled and Filthy frowned in synch, looked at each other, then at Diamond. “You are?” they chorused.

“Yep!” She clutched the spotlight with both hooves, beaming. Nopony could stay mad around a smiling little filly, and Diamond had the best smile in the kingdom; her trophies said so. “Maybe I didn’t like it at first, but it got better. After all, if we hadn’t gone, I wouldn’t have met Menace.”

“Diamond?” Dad studied her face carefully. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Uh-huh.”

Spoiled furrowed her eyebrows. “You sure?”

“Sure I’m sure. Come on, Dad, you still need to see the cage.” She felt Menace start to slump against the tiara. Diamond shifted him into her hooves, tucked safely against her chest. “Do you want to see it too, Mother?”

It still counted as quality time when it happened inside the house, right?

“I—why... yes.” From the look on Spoiled’s face, one would think Celestia had asked her to the homecoming dance. “Yes, I would. Um, lead the way, Diamond.” Not that Spoiled had to see it, as she’d been there for the construction plans; the birdcage had been the only part of the pet exercise they’d actually collaborated on.

In the center of Diamond’s room, the cage stood roughly the same width as a large armoire and stretched two feet shy of the ceiling. Instead of the traditional iron bar design, Diamond had opted for white gold lattice, and it had been Spoiled who suggested the wooden frame to integrate it with the rest of Diamond’s furniture. From a distance, it could easily be mistaken for an elaborate wardrobe. A spiral staircase of shelves led the way to a velvet and fleece nest at the top, with toys and mirrors waiting on every level. With the pull of a lever, the door dropped and converted into a little staircase to the floor. Menace never had to fly another day of his life if he didn’t want to.

Right now, Menace didn’t even want to walk there. He padded across old pages of The Stall Street Journal that lined the cage bottom, fluffed his wings, and settled in the corner.

“It’s been a long day,” Diamond said to nopony in particular. “I took him on a tour of the house and gave him a bath. He’s exhausted.” Menace had sat and watched through most of it, but quiet observation could take a lot out of a creature.

Dad idly stroked the cage’s velvet curtains, watching Diamond cup her pigeon and put him in his proper bed. “Got to say, this is high living for a little bird.”

“Mm. For the time being.” Spoiled’s gaze traveled from the sleepy pigeon to Diamond, who watched her with a curious frown. “Depreciation—we bought it for five thousand; it’ll be four by the end of the year. I’m thinking out loud, that’s all.”

Something didn’t smell right. If Spoiled had a problem with the cage value going down, she would have said something when commissioning it. On the ride home, she would have grumbled over Menace messing up the wires or pooping on the fancy wood. It wasn’t in her to bottle up a financial complaint for a whole twenty-four hours, especially not when said complaint had been Diamond’s call.

Dad’s ears went up. “Five thou—” He swung around in a harsh whisper. “Five thousand? But we’re not even going to use it that lon—”

Spoiled stepped on his hoof.

Now it really didn’t smell right. Dad liked Menace, so why would he be thinking about getting rid of him? Diamond rubbed the thin patch of feathers in the bird’s cheek. “He’s not like a street pigeon. They live longer when somepony’s there to take care of them; Menace is going to live here for another twenty years. It’s a lot of money, but it’ll pay off in the end.”

“Oh,” said Dad. “I see. Uh, S-Spoils? Honeywallet, does… uh, does she…” He pressed close and whispered a rapid set of words into Spoiled’s ear.

Spoiled jerked away from him. “Me?!” Her ears flattened. “But I thought that you—I mean, with all that time in the game room…”

Diamond’s little hoof waved between them. “Excuse me? What’s going on?”

They froze. Spoiled recovered first, slowly tugging Dad into the hall by his jacket sleeve. “One second, sweetheart. We need to have a grownup talk.” After a second, her head poked back in to add, “You’re not in trouble.”

At least they didn’t sound angry. If anything, it sounded like a minor market crash.

Diamond shrugged. “Okay.”

Menace opened a squinty little eye and closed it.

The clock on the desk ticked once. Ticked again.

There, that’s one second. Diamond pressed her belly to the ground and nudged the door a crack.

Dad and Spoiled’s silhouettes huddled on the far side of the hall. Too far to hear anything besides scraps and snatches of conversation: “...wouldn’t listen to…” and “…taking it too well…” and “…quality of life…”. Diamond’s name a few times. Menace’s once.

“Well, why can’t you?” Spoiled’s shadow broke the huddle to pace back down the hall. “The second quarter doesn’t start for another week; you’ve got nothing but free time.”

“I did until the Manehattan branch manager ticked off the union. They’re threatening a strike.” A pause. “Hey, it’s not like I planned it this way. Anyhow, I can probably get it squared away in a few hours. With travel time, the whole thing will take a day—two, max.”

Spoiled said something too soft to hear.

“I’m not sure the bird can wait that long. This way, at least you can brace for it.” Dad’s voice lightened. “Who knows? Maybe it’ll bring you together a little.”

“Maybe.” A strong maybe, from the sound of it. “I don’t suppose Belfry could...?” Spoiled shook her head. “No, she’s not available until next month.”

A maid’s shadow passed theirs on her rounds through the house. Diamond ducked back inside before she could notice her. Menace—still awake after all—pressed against the side of the cage, watching her.

In a quiet room, Menace’s rumbling coo filled the walls. “I think they’re talking about you,” Diamond told him. The pigeon blinked curiously at that, but when she didn’t elaborate, he chose to nibble her fetlock through the bars instead. She thought of how it tickled and absolutely nothing else.

The door opened behind her. Moments later, Dad’s face appeared at the opposite side of the cage. “He’s not sleepy after all?”

“Guess not.” When Diamond turned back to Menace, his head had completely rotated upside down. He’d fit right into one of Dinky’s ghost possession books.

“Not hungry either?” Dad examined the small pyramid of seeds and chickpeas stacked in the crystal bowl on the middle shelf. Pristine and untouched. “Out of curiosity, Diamond, when did you feed him last?”

“This morning. I think the dovekeeper gave us the wrong diet, though, because he didn’t eat any of it yet.” She’d tried offering some of her own organic oats at lunchtime, but he hadn’t even looked at them. “He must’ve eaten sometime recently, though.” Diamond gestured to the white splotches on the newspaper. “That had to come from somewhere.”

“True.” Spoiled leaned (slouched?) in the doorway, her head turned in Diamond’s direction without actually looking at her. “But to be safe, we’ll take him to Fluttershy’s tomorrow.”

Diamond bristled. “Why? His papers say he’s fine.”

Physically. Dainty Dove’s ugly faux-Canterlot accent rattled in Diamond’s head. He’s perfectly fine, physically.

One of the uneaten grains cracked underhoof. Diamond reminded herself to clean that up before anypony complained. “But we could still go. Fluttershy knows a lot about animals; she’ll know what he really likes to eat.”

Spoiled clapped her hooves together. “Exactly. We’ll leave first thing in the morning, you and me.”

Because they could always use more “quality time,” couldn’t they? Diamond faked a smile. “Great.”

Dove The One You're With—Part I

“Diamond?”

Okay, the order goes cauldron, kettle, saucer. Right? Diamond Tiara double-checked the instructions Mr. Silver had given her earlier that morning. Right.

She’d never made tea before (this wasn’t tea, but it involved dunking flowers in water, so close enough) but she remembered Silver Spoon saying that the tea had to be in the cup before the water. She’d bite her face off for screwing up something even resembling tea. Bad way to kick off a scrying session.

“Diamond Tiara, did you hear me?”

On the other hoof, if it got Silver’s attention, messing up might be worth it. She’d understand a first-timer mistake. Diamond glanced at the tiny hill of chamomile, lavender, and hibiscus petals at the bottom of the mini-cauldron beside her hooves. Not worth it. If Silvie came in grumpy, Diamond would need to calm her down, which might stir them up even more, and they might never get to talking about…

Menace raised his head from the kitchen tile and blinked slowly, his wings splayed out at his sides like a snow angel. The blue and white sweater vest Fluttershy had given him matched the panic room carpet.

...About the stuff they needed to talk about. No time to screw around, Di. Get it together.

“Diamond!”

Although getting it together would be much easier if certain ponies would go away and leave her alone. “I’m listening, Mother. Go on.”

Seconds ticked by before Spoiled eased back into her lecture. Or scolding. Diamond hadn’t listened enough to know which one; not that it mattered, one eventually turned into the other.

“Finer than tea leaves, but thicker than sugar grains,” the instructions said. Taking a pestle in her jaws, Diamond went to work grinding the petals into a semi-fine powder. Like beach sand, almost.

Under the scrape and grind of stone on cast iron, the voice of Spoiled Rich talked. And talked. And talked. She’d been going on like this for the past ten minutes, occasionally pausing for an awkward cough here or a stutter there. Her spiel paused every few minutes to check if Diamond was paying attention or glare disapprovingly or whatever. Who knew? Who cared?

Figuring out her stepmother ate time. Pretending to listen ate time. Diamond glanced at Menace, who’d laid his head back on the carpet. Tempus pecunia est. The family motto rang ominously in her head. Time is money. Spoiled blew through money like it burned a hole in her wallet. If she wanted to talk, let her talk. It wasted less time and effort than it’d take to argue.

For now, Diamond staved her off with a steady feed of small nods and the occasional “yes, ma’am.”

Against her instincts, Diamond’s ear swiveled back to the one-sided conversation.

“…yet, the fact of it is that life—er… that is, life…” There was a pause and a rustle of paper. “The way of life is that it is made up of meetings and pairings—partings! Meetings and partings.” Diamond looked over her shoulder in time to see Spoiled slide a bit of paper into her robe pocket. She’d prepped a speech.

Good. That meant she wouldn’t need much commentary from Diamond. Speaking of which, time for another nod: slow and methodical, as if Diamond was contemplating something very serious. It seemed to satisfy Spoiled. Most adults didn’t need more than a small concession to their authority. Adult speaks, foal listens. Adult instructs, foal does. Repeat until graduation.

Splashes of pink, white, and lavender speckled the black iron in a mini pastel galaxy. Fitting for a wish. Diamond tilted it to show Menace while she knelt to scratch the black rainbow feathers in his neck. He tilted his head at the cauldron and scratched at his sweater vest.

“You’ll like Silver when you see her.” Diamond kissed the top of her pigeon’s head, which made all his feathers fluff up. “I know she’s gonna love you, too. Silver has good taste.”

Cauldron done. Hardest part over; time for the kettle. Thank goodness the panic room came with its own kitchenette, or this would be a lot more complicated. Diamond set the cauldron in the sink, flipping the faucet on. She watched the flower particles drift in the water, swishing it to dislodge stubborn bits stuck to the sides before she transferred the water to the kettle.

Silver Spoon’s kettle, elegantly crafted from the same stainless steel used for surgeries and sporting a long thin spout, matched its owner to a T. Scrying spells required a personal item of the contact’s, so what better to use for transferring the water? For insurance, Mr. Silver had let her borrow a silver saucer from his kitchen for the scrying vessel itself. If this didn’t grab Silvie, nothing would.

Gently, Diamond Tiara gripped the kettle’s handle in her teeth, one hoof steadying the bottom as she brought it to the saucer on the floor. This needed concentration and precision. She tilted her ears to filter out background chatter, lifted the kettle up to pour… and realized she had no background noise to filter.

She only heard pouring water. Spoiled had stopped talking, and Diamond got the sinking suspicion that she’d stopped a while ago. Her eyes slowly slid upward.

Frost practically rolled off Spoiled Rich’s shoulders as her glacial stare bore down upon her. Yet when she spoke, it didn’t sound cold at all. No false-sense-of-security warmth either. Just…. kinda flat, like a popped buckball. “What are you doing?” A question that implied other questions: “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?” or “Why is this more important than listening to me?”

Diamond blinked up at her stepmother as the last drops fell from the kettle spout. She chewed the handle in her mouth, feeling more than a little stupid. “Um. Shcryin’.”

“Don’t speak with your mouth full, it’s impolite.” Spoiled’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Of course, it’s also poor manners to ignore somepony when they’re talking to you.”

A blue sheen the same shade as Diamond’s cutie mark skimmed the surface of the water. The last three drops fell, rippling outward from the center in perfect circles, a radar reaching through Equestria for Silver Spoon’s magical signature. Powdered petals swirled across the reflective surface.

Diamond set the kettle down and breathed hard. “I said I’m scrying, Mother.”

“Since when do you know how to perform scrying magic?” Spoiled might have sounded impressed if she weren’t so confused.

“I asked Mr. Silver to show me how. I-I’m trying to talk to—uh, Silver Spoon’s in Canterlot right now, but I wanted to show Menace to her. She… um.” Diamond glanced away and wrapped her tail protectively around the saucer. “She doesn’t know I have a new pet. I wanted to surprise her when she got back, but I decided to show him to her now, instead.”

The ice softened all at once, and it worried Diamond more than the glacier stare had. “Oh.” Spoiled’s ears swayed back and forth, processing this new information. “Oh. Well. I see. That’s…” She cleared the frog in her throat. “I suppose that’s understandable.”

Seven deluxe milkshakes and a banana split churned in Diamond’s stomach. Maybe breakfast at Sugarcube Corner hadn’t been such a great idea. She knew she ought to be relieved that Spoiled didn’t get mad or yell at her or use it as another excuse for a lecture but… she should have been mad.

The muscles in Spoiled’s muzzle sloped downward, though she still smiled. A strange but familiar expression. Where had Diamond seen it before? “So Silver can see your bird while she still has the chance.”

Diamond studied her stepmother’s face and clenched her teeth. Fluttershy.

That was the same stupid pathetic face Fluttershy wouldn’t quit giving her yesterday, except Spoiled’s face never learned how to do sympathy. A changeling newbie who'd learned the definition of compassion five minutes ago.

The queasy stomach churn boiled over and hardened like leather. You know what? Forget smiling and nodding. What did she have to be scared of, anyway? Spoiled couldn’t break the pet contract now.

“Actually, no, Mother.” Saying that never got old. “Silvie is going to see Menace personally when she gets back home next week. It’s not like he’s going anywhere.”

As if on cue, Menace scratched at his sweater vest and snagged his left foot on a thread. Untangling his claws before he unraveled the whole thing, Diamond noticed the sweater had rumpled in the struggle. Good thing he had Diamond here to fix it before it slid off his neck.

Still nipping at one of the buttons on his back, Menace wobbled off to flop back down on the carpet. Every few seconds his foot scratched at the crochet.

“It’s been a… weird week. I needed somepony to talk to, that’s all.” Diamond checked the scrying saucer. Nothing so far.

Spoiled’s overly pointed nose poked over the water, her reflection wrinkled and wriggling in the silver. “Somepony to talk to?” Her voice rose to a fever pitch. “Somepony to talk to?!”

Was there an echo in here?

“Diamond, what in Tartarus do you think we’re doing right now? We’re in the middle of a conversation.”

“No, you’re in the middle of a conversation.”

Diamond froze. Did she just say that out loud? One glance at her stepmother’s reflection in the bowl sealed it. Horseapples.

“Excuse me, young lady?”

No going back now. “I don’t want to talk to you.” Diamond lashed her tail and ducked to the side before Spoiled could reach for her. “No. I’m busy talking to Silver Spoon.”

She hadn’t quite frosted over again, but at least that phony-baloney Fluttershy smile was gone. Spoiled waved her hoof over the silvery eddies and shifting petals in the saucer. “Where is she, then?”

“I only just started. Give it a chance to work first.”

Mr. Silver’s warnings haunted her like bad credit: “Might.” “No promises.” “She’ll contact you IF she can.” “There’s a good chance she’s not even home.”

Being home didn’t matter, right? Scrying connected water with water—even water mixed with other stuff. Still, Silver could be walking through a yard with no fountains or puddles, or at a garden party with no punch bowl. She could sit in her family’s big fancy mansion in a room with rugs too expensive to risk a spill, surrounded by relatives who’d drop everything to help Silver in an instant and loved her very much.

Meanwhile, Dad was caught in a work emergency miles away, and Mom…

Mom had her reasons.

Ugly, envious feelings Diamond had tried to leave behind came roaring back in full force. It wasn’t fair. Even without her parents, Silvie still had an army of other Silvers to back her up in a crisis. And who did Diamond have?

Spoiled Rich eyed the clock, then the rippling water, unimpressed. “How long do you plan to wait, Diamond? An hour? All day?”

“Maybe. If I have to.” Diamond flattened her ears. “It’s summer vacation. I have all the time in the world.”

“You do, maybe.”

Menace flapped weakly with a sad little coo. His toes had gotten tangled in the sweater threads again. Diamond scooped him up and held him close, still glaring at Spoiled.

Undeterred, Spoiled crouched beside her. “You really want to spend the time you have left with your bird waiting around for Silver Spoon to show up? Is that how you want to remember his last days? Maybe his last hours?”

Ignoring his grumblings, Diamond unstrung Menace’s foot. He still looked so cute in his little vest. Soon he’d be able to show it off to all of Ponyville. Menace shifted in her hooves limply when she set him down on the counter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Menace knows how to wait.”

“Diamond. Sweetheart.” Spoiled’s patience wore thin. She scanned the crumpled notes in her robe pocket, but Diamond Tiara had gone off script and they’d be worthless now. She never really knew what to do when Diamond had the audacity to be her own pony.

Unclenching her teeth, Spoiled sighed again—specifically, one of the cooldown sighs Dr. Belfry taught. “I don’t want to fight,” she slowly said, “but Diamond, we need to talk about this. Us. I’m not—it’s just a talk. Is that really so bad?”

For one stupid second, Diamond considered the possibility. Who knew when Silver Spoon could get back to her, and wasn’t somepony better than nopony?

Spoiled rested her hoof on Diamond’s withers. “After all, you should be able to talk to your mother about these sorts of things.”

The world went red, all steam and thorns. Diamond stiffened. Liars knew liars. This wasn’t a lie. It was something worse.

No. No, ma’am. Spoiled Rich did not get to roll in at the last second with last minute sniffles and get to be all sad with hugs and heart-to-hearts. Where were those hugs when she lost the class election? Or when she got kicked out of the school newspaper? Or when Carat Cut attacked her for no reason at the wedding?

Diamond shoved the hoof off her shoulder. “My mother lives in Applewood.”

Spoiled’s pained flinch was nothing short of satisfying. “Listen, I understand how hard this is for you. I don’t want to have this conversation either, but—”

“Don’t, then!” Diamond wheeled around so fast that Menace flapped away in alarm.

He stumbled through the air and dropped straight down onto a loveseat in a cloud of feathers. After a moment, his black head poked over the armrest, dizzy but fine. Just fine.

“You don’t really care about my pigeon, and you don’t care what I have to say. You just wanna hear yourself talk.” Stomping back to the saucer, Diamond sat hard on her rump. “Not like there’s even anything to talk about, anyway.”

Still unable to leave anypony alone for two seconds, Spoiled followed her. “Diamond, Menace is—”

“Fine. There’s nothing wrong with my bird; he needs some rest, that’s all.”

“Celestia help me.” Spoiled ran her hoof down her face and kept it there. “Are you really doing this? Still?” She rubbed the slope of her muzzle. “What is this, denial? Some sort of—what do they call it? A coping mechanism?”

Careful not to spill the water, Diamond pulled the saucer into her lap so that she could see her face in the silver. “This is me trying to do a scrying spell, and I’d like to focus on it, thanks. We can talk later.”

The rings in the water came slower, farther and farther apart until none came at all. Little bits of petal swirled in a steady ebb and flow until they settled into fuzzy blobs of color at the bottom of the saucer. It reminded her of the way the world had looked that time Diamond tried on Silver’s glasses. If she squinted, Diamond could make out shapes: red drapes, a crowd shifting in the background, and buffet dishes around the edge of the saucer. She must have connected to a punch bowl or something.

A familiar shade of grey appeared over the rim, the color almost indistinguishable against the silver saucer. Silver Spoon pricked her ears, stretching her neck over the water. She called to somepony out of view. After a moment, a white unicorn with a yellow mane joined her. He lit his horn and the water began to clear into a solid image of Silver Spoon and…

Diamond tilted her head. That pony looked kind of like Prince—

The image broke with a splash. “What—hey!”

Spoiled lifted the saucer up and out of Diamond Tiara’s reach. “I tried doing this the nice way, but fine.” Dark spots of water dripped across the tile on the way to the sink.

“HAY! What are you doing? Give that back!” Diamond rushed after her, scrambling to snatch the saucer. Above her head, Silver’s confused voice bubbled as if underwater.

Staring Diamond in the face, Spoiled Rich tipped the saucer in the sink. Petals, water, and all. “Diamond Tiara. Your pigeon is going to die.”

“I…”

It all unraveled so fast. Diamond didn’t even know which thread to grasp. All she could do was sit and watch as the only chance to talk to her best friend gurgled down the sink.

“I’m sorry, Diamond, but that’s the fact of it.”

“You…” Diamond Tiara cradled the empty saucer. Wet bits of lavender and hibiscus stuck to her shaking hoof. “You’re a liar,” she whispered.

The saucer went flying before Diamond realized she’d thrown it. A streak of silver cut through the kitchenette and struck a cabinet so hard the panic room echoed. Spoiled stared at the dent in the wood, mere inches from her nose.

This would mean a grounding. Two weeks minimum, probably a month. Maybe even worse. Dad would be so disappointed. It might even mean no pageants until next season; say goodbye to Nationals again. Diamond Tiara didn’t care.

“You are a LIAR!”

The indent in the cabinet went deep enough to fit the edge of Spoiled’s horseshoe. She brushed her hoof over it, frowning. “So much for handling this maturely. After your little brawl with Silver Spoon, I’d have expected you to know better by now.” She shook her head at the upturned saucer and set it properly on the counter. “Ruin all the walls you like, but it won’t change a thing. You need to face facts.”

“You mean the facts you pulled out of your butt? It’s not true just because you say it is, and—” Diamond braced her hooves against the tile and swallowed hard. “A-and I bet you’re just mad ‘cause I said you’re not my mom. So who’s the pony here who can’t handle the truth?”

If it affected her, Spoiled didn’t show it. She walked past Diamond, out of the kitchenette, and settled on the ottoman beside the loveseat. Her robe pooled over the yellow upholstery in waves of paisley silk. “So. I’m a liar, am I?” A flash of purple tail twitched under the robe. “I suppose Fluttershy is a liar as well, then? Did I slip her a bag of bits under the table for a diagnosis? Everypony can see the animal isn’t well. Look at him.”

Menace slowly blinked at her from the opposite end of the loveseat. The struggle of climbing out of the accent pillows had taken a lot out of him. His neck lolled so far back his head touched his shoulders while he tried to bite the buttons on his sweater. Privately, Diamond wondered if Spoiled had seen him eat anything that morning.

Actually, Spoiled shouldn’t have let him come out of the cage, either. He needed rest and a quiet place to recover, but Spoiled wouldn’t even let him have that. Diamond glanced at the dented cabinet. I didn’t help much, either. He’d been dozing quietly on the carpet before Diamond woke him.

Menace fidgeted as Diamond gathered him up. She coaxed his neck upright, kissed the top of his head, and put him in his cozy nest at the bottom of the cage. “He doesn’t act like a dead bird to me.”

“Yet.” Spoiled solemnly nodded to herself. “Pretending it won’t happen will only make it worse when it does. It’s only a matter of days.”

“That’s not what Fluttershy said, Mother.” Diamond closed the door and pulled the velvet curtains around the cage to block out the light. “It’s a concussion. Fluttershy also said that birds can shake it off after a few days, and he’s already lasted this long, hasn’t he?”

Menace had more fight in him than the Celestial Guard; he’d take on a hawk if anypony’d let him. More than ever, Diamond knew this handsome little pigeon belonged in her family. Unlike other ponies she could name. “If she thought Menace was about to die, Fluttershy would have said so.”

“Fluttershy wanted to leave you a glimmer of hope, and furthermore she thought…” The sentence trailed off into discontented muttering. Spoiled brushed molted feathers off the loveseat cushion and took a seat for herself. An open spot sat beside her for Diamond. “She thought this sort of discussion would be better left between family.”

“Not much to discuss; you already decided he’s doomed.” Diamond’s eyes widened. “You thought Menace was going to die from the beginning, didn’t you? This whole time.”

No wonder Dad kept staring at Menace so weird. As predicted, Spoiled set her bird up for failure, just not in the way Diamond had thought. And back at the wedding… “She’s just a filly,” Spoiled had told Dainty Dove. “She’s not ready for it.”

“That’s why you tried so hard to get the dove keeper to take him back, too.”

“Also because the creature looked like the plague with wings.” Spoiled wrinkled her nose at the birdcage, but her heart wasn’t in it. “...But that is the main reason, yes.” Her eye glanced at Diamond and then away. “You’ve… had a difficult year, Diamond. Some of that might be my fault. A lot of it, maybe. I didn’t want to help make it any harder.”

That actually almost sounded like an apology.

Diamond Tiara pricked her ears, taking a small step toward the loveseat.

Which probably meant a trick. Probably. Maybe. …Possibly?

She stayed put, carefully eying the spot left open for her beside Spoiled.

Spoiled brought her eyes up without glancing away this time. “You deserve a pet that’s not… that. At the very least, you deserve something that’ll last the week.” She gave a sad sort of half-chuckle. “Pity’s sake, how does that look? I get you a pet and it keels over the second we bring it home.”

Only Spoiled Rich could see a pigeon on his (supposed) deathbed and still make it about herself. Diamond humphed, lashing her tail. “Sounds about right to me. Whatever happens, I brought it on myself. Remember?”

Spoiled rubbed her forehooves awkwardly. “Alright, I shouldn’t have said that. But Diamond, I only—”

“What do you know about the kind of pet I deserve?” Diamond snapped. “You don’t know the first thing about Menace II Society. You glanced at him for two seconds and decided he’s garbage before you ever got to know him. Dad knew him half the time that you did, but at least he petted him.”

Even after Menace had slapped Dad’s hoof, he never said a bad word about him. It had probably been to spare Diamond’s feelings, but he still gave him a fair chance. It wouldn’t surprise her one bit if Spoiled had been rooting for Menace to die from the start just so she wouldn’t have to put up with a gross bird in the house. It’d be the perfect way to spite Diamond for picking a pet she didn’t approve of; it would serve her right for making decisions on her own.

“I’m not stupid. I know Menace isn’t a normal dove. I know he doesn’t feel good—he’s really hurt and he might… he might not get better. That doesn’t mean he’s doomed.” Diamond angled her ears towards the birdcage. Menace must have gone to sleep; he’d grown quiet. Softer, she added, “It doesn’t mean you can just give up on him and throw him away.”

Spoiled ran both hooves through her limp mane. It still looked so weird without all the mousse holding it up. “That’s not what I meant. Optimism’s one thing, but we must be realistic.”

Standing still next to this mare for too long got Diamond’s hooves all hot and fidgety. She shoved off the armrest and began to pace. Moving felt better. Moving meant going somewhere, even if it was only a circuit around the loveseat.

Realistic: another of Mom’s loser words. The grown-up way of saying you’re likely going to fail anyway, so don’t even try. “I’m sorry about what I said before; you’re not a liar. You’re a quitter.”

The loveseat creaked under Spoiled’s weight, and Diamond heard her approach from behind. Without turning her head, she shifted away from Spoiled’s hoof before it could touch her. “When there’s a problem, you don’t throw your hooves up and go home, you push through it. You push until you win.” Diamond turned to face the mare in her house and stomped her hoof. “My real mom knows that. She taught me to push through, no matter what it takes to get there, because she’s not a quitter.”

Spoiled gave her a slow, sad blink. Her gaze settled on a hairline crack jutting through the pearly pink of Diamond’s right forehoof. “Yes, Diamond Tiara. So I’ve been told.”

That… that wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t.

The injury in Vanhoover had been an accident. It wasn’t Mom’s fault. If Diamond had just practiced more, if she’d skipped lunch for an extra hour of training, then she wouldn’t have hurt her hoof on that last jump. If she’d practiced her jumps, she wouldn’t have had to go to the hospital. Dad wouldn’t have had to get so upset. If Diamond hadn’t hurt her hoof, Mom would still be here instead of all the way in Applewood. Mom would have taken Menace to every single vet in a fifty-mile radius until they found somepony who could help. Mom would do everything possible; she would have tried instead of throwing in the towel before the first bell. She didn’t know the meaning of the word “quit.”

In the northern corner of the panic room sat the drum set Mom had given her for Hearth’s Warming. The one she’d sent by mail instead of coming to town in person like she’d promised. It got busy in Applewood, and as an agent, Mom juggled lots of clients. She had tons of work and didn’t need to waste her time hanging out with a filly who couldn’t even make a simple jump…

Diamond shook her head. No. No, Mom just had work pile up. That’s all. She didn’t like visiting Ponyville, but was always happy to see her.

“My Mom…” The room became wet and blurry, and something wet slid down her cheek. I want my Mom. But Mom had no patience for losers, and only babies and losers cried when things didn’t go their way. No wonder she never wanted to visit Ponyville. Diamond Tiara wiped her eyes and sniffed. “My mom only pushed me ‘cause she knew I could do it.”

Spoiled rubbed her fetlock. She opened her mouth, then thought better of it.

After a quiet moment, Diamond added, “My mom doesn’t think I’m stupid, either.”

“What?” Spoiled’s ears twitched, then wilted. “I don’t think you’re—”

“Yeah, you do! You’re always breathing down my neck, acting like I’m too dumb to do anything by myself without messing up.” Diamond swung her hoof towards the birdcage. “The one time I can pick something out for myself, you decide I don’t know what I’m doing and try to fix it behind my back without even telling me why. You could’ve told me from the start you thought Menace was going to die.”

Spoiled gave a frustrated little huff. “For all the good that would have done. You don’t listen to a single word I say—even on a good day. You wouldn’t have believed me if I’d tried.”

“No, because you’d still be wrong. But like, you still could’ve, like, trusted me enough to…” Diamond slumped on the carpet. She didn’t want to fight anymore. It didn’t get her anywhere or make anypony feel any better, especially not her. Why couldn’t Spoiled go back upstairs and leave them alone? “I dunno why you’re even down here. You don’t even like me.”

Spoiled drew back, clutching her hoof to her chest. “Diamond Dazzle Tiara, what a thing to say! I love you.”

Diamond slumped harder, watching her own tail twitch limply on the carpet. “Tch, right. Since when?”

She felt Spoiled’s iron-hard stare without lifting her head. Maybe Diamond had said too much, gone too far. (What else was new?) Yelling, scolding, and fussing never felt good, but the real danger came when ponies got quiet. Right now, her stepmom had gone dead silent.

Too late (as always), it occurred to Diamond that she’d never seen Spoiled Rich truly angry; not the kind where adults forgot that they were dealing with foals. Spoiled’s anger never peaked above a six. What did her eights look like? Or the tens? It wasn’t like she could go to anypony else for help; Dad was miles away and Randolph could be on the other side of the house for all she knew. Nopony would hear them all the way down here, anyway.

In the corner of her eye, Spoiled sat again. “Young filly—”

“I’m sorry, I just—”

“—come here. Right now.” Her tone meant business.

Maybe if Diamond cooperated and apologized again, Spoiled would only bite half of her head off. Avoiding sudden movements, she came to stand beside the loveseat. If this counted as close enough, maybe she wouldn’t have to—

“Sit.” On the bright side, she didn’t seem angry. Upset, maybe, but not in her usual sputtering offended way—this felt quieter. Focused.

Diamond pulled herself onto the ottoman. She still didn’t sit next to her, but it must have been close enough because Spoiled didn’t complain.

Lowering herself to Diamond’s eye level, Spoiled Rich sprawled across the loveseat like a sphynx, absolutely still save for the slow blink of her eyes. “Luckily, you’re right: I don’t like you. If I liked you, I wouldn’t bother coming down here.”

Diamond blinked. “Um. What?”

“It’s a beautiful Saturday morning in the midst of Gala season. I could be preparing for the Pommelway wedding next month, or at the spa getting a steam—Cadance knows I need one—or shopping for a dress, or sleeping in. There are hundreds of places I’d rather be besides an overblown basement with a dying bird and a daughter who can’t stand me, but…” Spoiled steepled both hooves and breathed.

Diamond glanced at the sweet freedom of the stairs. For a second, she wondered if Spoiled was done, but no such luck.

“Let me put this another way. Diamond, if I weren’t in your hair, would you like staying down here?”

This had “trick question” written all over it. Sidestepping the question wouldn’t work, and any chance of charming her way out vanished the second she’d thrown the saucer. If Silvie were here, she’d advise treading lightly. “I’d like it a lot better than I do right now?”

Wrong answer. Spoiled flicked her tail and waited.

“I… I dunno. Yes? Maybe?” It’d be a lot more peaceful.

“Oh? So you like sitting down here in the panic room watching a hurt pigeon sleep and limp over the carpet?” Spoiled crossed her forelegs, leaning into the cushions. “Nopony’s forcing you to be here, you know. All he needs is rest; Menace doesn’t need your help for that. Wouldn’t you rather be visiting with those scruffy Crusader friends of yours, or that filly who hangs around graveyards?” She shrugged and motioned at the birdcage. “Do you enjoy any part of this? Do you like seeing Menace this way?”

Menace hadn’t made a peep since Diamond had put him to bed. The velvet drawn around the cage felt less like bed curtains and more like a funeral shroud. She missed him making a racket, biting her mane, and falling over his own feet. Was he hurting? Or scared? Menace usually got quiet when he was scared.

Diamond rested her chin on the armrest. “No. I hate it.”

“If you hate it, why are you doing it?”

“Well, I can’t leave him down here all by himself! What kind of monster leaves their friend in the hospital all alone? He needs me.” One of Diamond’s ears flicked upwards. ….Wait. She lifted her chin defiantly. “It’s not the same thing. I don’t need you; I’ve got Silver Spoon to talk to. Or I did before you ruined it.”

“You need to talk to somepony who’s here,” said Spoiled.

“I don’t want you.”

“Too bad, I’m what you’ve got. You don’t want to be down here, I don’t want to be down here, and neither of us likes it. There’s nothing TO like about it.” Spoiled closed the distance on the small couch, close enough so that the ties of her robe bumped Diamond’s tail. “I came to be miserable down here because I love you, not because I like you. If I only liked you, I’d have slept in and let you tough it out on your own.”

Diamond Tiara couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten two I-love-yous in the same week from Spoiled Rich, much less the same hour. It felt weird. Not wrong, just… weird. “That’s dumb,” she said. “Love’s supposed to be warm and nice and stuff. Since when does love make you miserable?”

A sharp bark of a laugh popped out of Spoiled’s mouth. “Since always. Liking something is easy and cheap. You like vacation spots, saddlebags, and cute colts at the dance. It’s fun for a few months, sure, but when the party ends, everypony goes home. Believe me, Diamond, when it comes to love—actual, real love—you stay, even when it’s not fun anymore. Don’t get me wrong; love is wonderful, but it’s still work. Hard, thankless work. Yes, sometimes it’s hugs and cuddles, and sometimes…”

Spoiled’s limp hoof lifted to the birdcage and flopped in her lap. “Sometimes it’s two ponies and a dying pigeon in a basement.”

“You didn’t want to work for Menace.” Who still wasn’t dying and didn’t have an expiration date stamped on his foot. “You didn’t even want to try.”

“You’re the one that loves him, not me. Believe it or not, I’d rather prevent your misery if I can. I don’t care about the pigeon, I care about you.” The little speech crinkled inside Spoiled’s pocket as she shifted on the couch. “I’m just… not always good at it.”

I noticed. Hopefully, all this family bonding hadn’t woken Menace up. Diamond hopped off the ottoman to check on him. “Is that why you didn’t say anything at the wedding?”

Perplexed, Spoiled Rich furrowed her brow.

She didn’t remember a thing. What a surprise. “Uh, last Wednesday? The one where Menace fell in the cake?”

“The Lace-Snapshot wedding?” Spoiled tilted her head and blinked again. The loose mane framing her head and bags under her eyes made her look like an owl. “I don’t understand. Are you still upset I took you along? I’m sorry, but I didn’t think it would be such a big issue. You’re always so eager to join your father at work.”

Dad’s office also wasn’t duller than rainy-day recess, and ponies actually bothered talking to her. “No, not that—I mean, I didn’t like that part either, but I mean when I was standing with you by the buffet and… you know.”

From her stepmother’s expression, she clearly didn’t.

“When that mare with all the jewelry came up to us and she started being mean to me.” Saying it out loud now, it sounded tiny, foalish, and stupid. The same way Diamond had felt then. “And you just stood there and let her do it.”

It took a few seconds of mental backtracking, but she finally put the pieces together. “You mean when Carat Cut asked why I brought my foal to…” She chuckled. When she noticed Diamond’s face it died down, but she didn’t lose the twinkle in her eyes. “Oh, sweetheart, that didn’t have anything to do with you.”

Diamond’s cheeks burned. “Mother! It’s not funny! That unicorn looked at me like I crawled out of a dumpster and puked on her shoes. Like she’d stepped in a pile of manure.”

Spoiled clicked her tongue. “Come now, Diamond, being upset is no excuse for crassness. Besides, Carat Cut didn’t say one cruel thing about you.”

“No, but she meant them. I know when somepony’s attacking me—I heard it in her voice, the way she stepped around me, and…” Diamond snorted. “Well, you heard her! You were there.”

“I did, yes, but I don’t see what you expected me to do about it. I’m not about to drop everything because you don’t like somepony’s tone.” Today’s society pages lay on a coffee table near the loveseat. Spoiled pressed her lips at the sight of it. “You’re always so eager to prove yourself a grown-up, I presumed you knew the correct way to handle the situation. Presumed too much, perhaps. What were you thinking, being so rude to the mother of the bride in front of the entire wedding party?”

Following her stepmother’s gaze, Diamond sneered at the full-color snapshots of waltzing old money. A smaller article below captured a wedding cake in mid-explosion, the onlookers’ faces twisted in horror and delight. “I was thinking that standing up for the foal you apparently love so much is more important than some dumb invitation to the next garden party.” Her eyes snapped up. “Bet you wouldn’t let Caramel or Roseluck treat me that way.”

“Of course I wouldn’t, and you know well why not.” She narrowed her eyes at Diamond’s dismissive tail flick. “Like it or not, young miss, we don’t all get to march around getting our way all the time. Not everything is about you.”

“Yeah, I know. Carat Cut really wanted to get to you, not me.” Diamond already went through this song and dance with Silver Spoon’s snooty Manehattan friends. It was a flimsy excuse then and a worse excuse now. Ponies caught in the line of fire still got an arrow in their haunch; it didn’t matter who the real target was. “That still doesn’t mean you couldn’t have—”

“Lace,” Spoiled interrupted.

“What?”

“It had nothing to do with you or me—though I’m sure kicking us down a peg would’ve been a nice bonus. The only ponies in Carat Cut’s crosshairs were Lily Lace and Snapshot.”

It took Diamond a second to remember Snapshot had been the groom. Nopony mentioned him much at the reception, though she remembered his funky green beard and shaggy fetlocks. “You mean she was blowing off steam because she didn’t like the groom?”

Spoiled shook her head. “You need to understand that my job doesn’t work the same way your father’s does. I work for clients, they don’t work for me.”

What did that have to do with anything? Mom worked as a talent agent with dozens of ponies for clients, and none of them treated her like their personal outhouse. “But why does that mean they get to treat you that way? There’s always new clients, right?”

“I suppose there are.” Spoiled Rich arched an eyebrow. “In the meantime, what do you suppose happens to Lily and Snapshot’s wedding?”

Diamond Tiara considered this and frowned. “But Carat Cut can’t cancel a whole wedding just ‘cause of that, right?”

“Because Carat found an excuse to fire the mare in charge of the chefs, floral arrangers, band, seating arrangements, and schedule? She most certainly can and she would.” Spoiled growled under her breath. “Mare’s been tackier than a tabloid since Canterlot Prep.”

“You went to school with her?” That made sense. Though Diamond had only really known Spoiled Rich after she moved to Ponyville, Spoiled probably never left Canterlot before then. “Was she a huge nag back then, too?”

“Language!” Spoiled flicked her tail. “But yes, pretty much.”

“Not so loud, Menace is trying to sleep.” It didn’t sound as if she’d woken him up. Diamond couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not. Normally Menace freaked out if somepony sneezed too loud near him. She should check on him.

Spoiled followed Diamond to the birdcage. “I’m sorry if Carat Cut hurt your feelings, but Lily Lace shouldn’t pay for it. She’s a flighty airhead, and her groom’s got the manners of a goat—and a beard to match—but they still deserve a beautiful wedding. A pony only gets one of those.” She thought about it. “Only one if I did it right.”

Diamond Tiara hardly heard her. With all the commotion, Menace should have heard something. Why was he so quiet? Peeking under the velvet, she couldn’t see him anywhere. Did he fall asleep on a higher shelf? Diamond fiddled with the pull cord. Pulling back the curtain could wake him up, and he needed his rest. I’d better not look.

“In this case, who knows,” Spoiled continued, eyeing the cage. “I don’t know what it means when a dove nosedives into a cake, but I can’t imagine it’s anything good.”

“Shhhh! You’ll wake him up.”

“Don’t shush your elders, Diamond.” She flicked her ears, considering Diamond’s idle hoof on the pull cord. “I could check on him if you want?”

“…okay.”

Some pet owner she’d turned out to be. Diamond couldn’t even have the nerve to check on her own bird. She didn’t know how to feel about a lot of things her stepmom had said this morning, but Spoiled had been right about one thing. If (and still IF) these were Menace’s last few hours, he shouldn’t spend them alone. He needed Diamond sitting next to him, not fighting about weddings. She’d grabbed a Power Pony comic from her room to read to him—the trade collection with the Cuckoo Glock arc. It had a mechanical bird in it; Menace would have liked that. Now he might not ever get to see it.

The curtains rustled. “He’s gone,” Spoiled said.

Diamond’s heart dropped into her stomach.

“Oh! Oh no, no, it’s not that.” Spoiled pulled back the curtains to reveal an empty cage. Nothing remained of Menace except feathers and pigeon poop. Strange clouds of blue and white fluff rolled along the blanket lining the bottom.

The unlocked cage door swung wide open with a bump of Spoiled's hoof. “I mean he’s gone.”

Dove The One You're With—Part II

Perhaps it had been guilt about their fight at the wedding. Perhaps it had been a show of compassion for an animal not long for this world. Or perhaps it had just been a force of habit for somepony who constructed elaborate custom arrangements for a living anyway. Whatever the motive, in a rare moment of insight, it had been Spoiled Rich of all ponies who'd first suggested the idea of arranging Menace's custom-built cage to be more accessible for a bird with flight issues. Flat ramps leading through the platforms and out into the cage meant that a bird who couldn’t fly well could still get around without much trouble. Unfortunately, that also meant that if somepony forgot to lock the cage, a pigeon could also sneak out while everypony else busied themselves fighting over family drama.

Diamond squished the ramp’s plush cushioning—made of the same shock absorbing foam used for mattresses and fragile packaging and perfect for easing stress on the feet. Perfect for absorbing the sound of little bird nails, too. The same could be said for the plush carpeting. For all they knew, Menace walked out the second Diamond turned her back to the cage leaving a splendid mess in his wake. Soft blue fluff trailed out of the cage and halfway down the ramp, where it suddenly cut off.

A splatter of black and white feathers marred the carpet below where the trail restarted. He must have either fallen off or jumped. Two feet away, safflower seeds and berries sprayed and scattered in random directions where he’d toppled his backup food dish. Diamond wished she could tell if Menace had actually eaten any of it.

Spoiled groaned over the state of her carpet and squinted at the shelves and cabinets for more signs of pigeon mayhem. “It can’t fly, right? Couldn’t have gotten that far, it’s not that big of a room.”

“He flew up to the short couch last night.” Menace missed the first jump and had fallen off a second later, but he’d still done it. It seemed to be a good sign at the time, before he’d gone listless this morning. Diamond’s cheek pressed against the carpet to check under the couches and tables. The feather trail wound around the legs of the coffee table and under the armoire with manticore paws.

Why was he losing so many feathers, anyway? The sweater vest should have stopped the plucking. Diamond reexamined the fluff strewn over the carpet: the colors complimented each other, the same way Menace’s crocheted vest did. Looking closer, the bits of fluff more resembled tangled knots of yarn string; his vest must have been unraveling. Luckily, Fluttershy had predicted this. Diamond grabbed a backup vest from the box—orange and green weren’t his colors but whatever—and tucked it under her foreleg.

In a farther corner of the room, Spoiled knelt to examine a string of white yarn that stretched from the upturned food bowl to the foot of the stairs. The string spooled around her hoof as she followed it to the stairwell and a triangle of sunlight pouring in from the ceiling. It could have only come from the skylight above the War Room. She sighed long and hard. “You left the door open.”

Diamond rubbed the back of her neck. “Oh. Whoops.” She shot Spoiled’s glare back at her. “Hey, it’s not like I did it on purpose. You surprised me and I forgot.”

“That’s no excuse, you don’t just forget to close the entrance to a panic room. Locking the door is the entire point! What if you came down to hide from a gang of vicious criminals and you left the door open?”

Diamond’s head poked up from the stairwell. Menace had definitely been here. The first place ribbon for Lil’ Miss Equestria: Central Regionals ‘98 had been dragged out of its display, the ribbon tangled and the rosette scuffed. White splotches of poop marked the rolled up rug beside the panic room’s vault-like door. “Mother, it’s Ponyville. We have monsters, not robbers. The worst we’d get is a nosy neighbor or Pinkie Pie.” Not that locked doors meant anything to Pinkie Pie.

“As if that’s any better,” Spoiled huffed. “We don’t need uninvited ponies stomping around in here, tracking in mud and mites and who knows what else.”

Thankfully, the ribbon for the ’98 regionals had only minimal damage. Diamond smoothed it out and put it in its proper place, glancing over her other spoils of victory within the War Room. She didn’t remember who’d decided to name it that way; Mom, probably. The walls shimmered with trophies, ribbons, sashes, and crowns from pageants, contests, and tournaments. At least two for every year she’d been alive.

Diamond touched a bare spot in the center of the medal display case. A medal for carrying Ponyville’s flag at the Equestria Games was supposed to go there, once. Oh well.

Aside from the rosette ribbon, nothing else had apparently been touched. It made sense; the trophy cups were all too tall and awkward to fly into, and the rest sat on tall shelves or behind glass. Diamond frowned at the ribbons shelved just above a foal’s eye level. She didn’t remember leaving the ’98 regional ribbon out. How had Menace gotten hold of it?

“Mother, did you move any of my ribbons?”

Spoiled banged her head against the bottom of Diamond’s work desk. “I don’t see the bird under here, and it’s not hiding under the door.” She hadn’t heard the question or else ignored it. Rubbing the knot on her poll, Spoiled crawled out and gestured towards the entrance to the War Room.

A white feather lay in the open doorway. “Great.” Diamond Tiara stepped into the hall, staring down a long line of open doors. “He could be anywhere by now.”

None of the windows had been left open more than a crack. Gathering another clump of sweater yarn, Spoiled double-checked the front door to confirm it had been closed. “Not anywhere; he’s still in the house.” She pursed her lips at a splash of pigeon poop on the rug, but kept her complaints to herself. “The little menace can’t let anything be easy. I’ll bet he’s hiding.”

Yarn fluff and feathers scattered through the hall in stark zig-zags and twirling corkscrews. Menace’s trail overlapped, looped, and doubled back into undecipherable havoc. If he was indeed hiding, he probably didn’t want to be found and had covered his tracks. That or he’d gotten dizzy and run into a wall.

Menace had vanished at some point during her argument with Spoiled. He hadn’t liked it when they’d fought at the wedding, either. “Maybe he’s in the servants’ quarters,” Diamond suggested.

“At the other end of the house? Why?”

Diamond shrugged. “I dunno, that’s what I’d do when Mom and Dad got into a fight.” At least until Randolph found her under his bed an eighth time too many and finally told Dad about it. Which only gave them something else to fight about.

“I see.” Spoiled cleared her throat and moved on. “Well, I doubt he made it all the way there in the condition he’s in. It’s a long way for a bird on foot. Frankly, I doubt that tiny brain of his understands his own name, much less cares that we’re fighting.” She pulled up a tablecloth, picked out a tangle of blue and white yarn, and dropped it into the frog of Diamond’s hoof. “But I do know that some animals know when their time is coming.”

Diamond squeezed the little knot of yarn in her hoof. “They do?”

Spoiled nodded. “Sometimes they go off somewhere private to die in peace. My sister’s Ragdoll did that.”

“What’s a doll got to do with anything?”

The feather trail had thinned out, but clumps of yarn trailed into the living room. Spoiled glanced under a table and checked behind the sofa. “It’s a type of cat. When you pick them up, they flop in your hooves like a doll.”

Diamond peeked out from behind the stereo. “Wait, aren’t you allergic to cats?”

“Yes, I am.” Spoiled lifted an armchair, checking in the cushions for any sign of the bird. “As I said, it was your Auntie Honeymilk’s cat.”

“But… you still lived in the same house and stuff, right?” By that logic, Diamond could have gotten her first choice of a kitten after all.

She shrugged. “My input on the matter wasn’t deemed necessary.” Spoiled jabbed her hoof at Dusty Trails, who paused in the middle of her dusting rounds. “You. The pigeon’s out. Confirm all the windows are closed, then search the other rooms.” Without missing a beat, she slipped back into the conversation without waiting for a response. “We found the cat in my closet, of all places. I had cat hair in my clothes and wheezed for two weeks.”

The last thing Diamond wanted to think about was dead pets in closets. “Hey, what’d you mean before, when you said there’s only one wedding if you did your job right?” She picked out a yarn string out of her tail. No telling if she’d picked it up in here or somewhere else. “Like, if they break up, it’s not your fault. You’re just the wedding planner.”

No pigeon in the living room. On their way out, Spoiled closed and locked the door. “Wedding planning is my job, not my Talent.” Her cropped tail swung to indicate the diamond ring on her flank. “I was a matchmaker.”

Was? “What do you mean? Talents don’t change, do they?” Diamond Tiara glanced at her own cutie mark. “Did you make a mistake about what your mark means?”

“No.” The word held weight to it. When she noticed Diamond still watching her, Spoiled twitched a dismissive ear and added, “Talents don’t change, but job markets do.” She shrugged and attempted a little smile. “It happens.”

“Oh.” Diamond couldn’t imagine what it’d be like to not be able to use her special Talent. It’d be like living half a life. “Maybe you could still do something to fix it? I mean, I know Apple Bloom and her friends are good at figuring out—”

Spoiled Rich pivoted with a glower to curdle cream. “The only thing those… three can do for me is keep a five-foot distance. I’d suggest you do the same, but you’ve already made it clear that you’re determined to toss your future aside in the name of slumming it with a pack of ragamuffins.”

Four doors down, Dusty Trails stepped out of the dining room. She glanced between Diamond and Spoiled, tugged her collar, and slipped back inside.

Spoiled wrinkled her nose at the pigeon feathers sprayed across a fallen bowl of wax fruit. Menace must have tried to perch and fallen off. “With your choice of companions, it’s no wonder you chose the gutterbird. The Silver child’s a viper, but at least she’s a classy one.”

“Don’t you talk about my friends that way!” Diamond shoved herself in Spoiled’s path before she could sidestep her. “You might not have any friends, but that doesn’t mean you get to trash-talk mine.”

“Oh, now you want me to lie to you? Running around in the muck, climbing trees and jumping in moldy hay might be cute for Ponyville, but what’s it going to do for you in five years? The real world’s coming fast and it won’t wait for you to catch up.”

And straight into another lecture. Diamond Tiara rolled her eyes. Well, peace was nice while it lasted.

“You need to think ahead, not gallop off with whatever fancy strikes you that week. These things need proper judgement.”

“More like your judgement…”

Spoiled narrowed her eyes. “Diamond—”

“I’m sorry,” Diamond quickly said. “Listen, I want to just find my bird, so can we just… like… I don’t know, skip it? I already know what you’re gonna say: my friends are scruffy peasants, my best friend’s a weasel, I’m too dumb to know who to hang out with, and I’m about to fall into a snake pit.”

“Oh, not this again. I already told you, I don’t think you’re dumb.”

“Then stop acting like it. I know my own friends, Mother. I trust them and they’re good ponies, even if Apple Bloom’s not my ticket into the country club. They’re good ponies.” For a moment, she studied her stepmother. “That’s not good enough for you, is it? It never will be.”

“Of course not.” It came out offhandedly, as if commenting on a new hooficure. “We’re rich.”

Diamond stared. She hadn’t actually expected her to come out and say it outright.

Silently counting off the closed rooms already covered by the help, Spoiled moved the search into the game room. “Our world isn’t kind to rule-breakers, and while we may be rich, we aren’t thoroughbreds. We can’t shake off a scandal with a subpoena the way your little friend can.” One hoof clutched her robe tightly around her shoulders like an urchin keeping out the chill. “Canterlot talks; it never forgets and rarely forgives.”

“What’s that got to do with me? Or Dad, for that matter?” Business needed to know business, and most Canterlot types inherited their wealth. The Riches should have been worrying about what Baltimare or Manehattan thought of them, not stuffy snobs who never set hoof in an office, much less a Barnyard Bargains.

“A lot more than you think it does.”

The game room came alive with a flick of Spoiled’s hoof. Overhead lamps stuttered into a steady glow while the arcade cabinets bleeped and blooped to themselves, welcoming new players.

Diamond lingered in the doorway, remembering what Spoiled had said about the wedding. She only put up with Carat Cut and the rest of Canterlot’s horseapples because she’d been on the clock. The trouble was, that clock never really stopped.

It reminded her of something she’d told Silver Spoon the day they’d met. The same thing Mom told her before a pageant. Ponies didn’t win unless they wowed the judges.

“You still think it’s better to be friends with more ponies like Silver Spoon?”

“In the long run, yes.” Spoiled waved her in with a flick of the tail. “Well? I certainly hope you don’t expect me to do all the work searching for your bird.”

At least they wouldn’t need to squint for clues in here. Threads of Menace’s blue sweater popped against the game room’s cherrywood floors. Diamond closed the door with her back hoof as she started searching under the pinball machines. “But you don’t like Silvy. You called her family a ball of snakes in a hole.”

“Naturally—that whole clan’s abysmal. Most ponies are. If they’re not out for themselves, then they’re too stupid, foolish, or naïve to do so, dragging ponies down with them into some wretched little hovel to graze on hayfries.” She said it with a casual exhaustion, the way one might complain about lousy air traffic. “At least with the Canterlot set you get something for the trouble.”

The tiara scraped the bottom of a pinball cabinet as Diamond canvased the game room’s borders, checking nooks and crannies where a pigeon could have accidentally wedged himself. She glanced at Spoiled’s dark pink legs ambling under a billiards table.

Dad admired Spoiled Rich’s knack for frugal economics; “prudent investments,” he’d called it. However, one pony’s sunk cost was another’s interest growth. If she’d been so quick to dismiss Menace as a sunk cost, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say she’d done the same with ponies. Maybe Spoiled had never been a quitter after all; quitters still tried.

Never trying meant never failing, but disqualification still counted as a loss in Diamond’s book. “You still get friendship for your trouble. That’s still something, right?” Coming out of her mouth, it sounded like a cheap Princess Twilight knockoff.

Spoiled gave a mirthless little chuff. “For the one percent, perhaps.”

Fine. Whatever. Nopony could say Diamond didn’t try. She crawled out from under the zombie pinball machine, holding one of Menace’s feathers. No telling if he’d left it in the game room today or not. “Yeah, ‘cause it’s only about status when it comes to friends, right?”

Their eyes locked across the billiards table. A thin crease of a frown skirted Spoiled’s muzzle. “Let me tell you a story about status and the one percent.”

A long story, from the sound of it. Diamond declined the silent invitation to join her stepmother on the other side of the table, but kept her ears cocked.

“Some years ago, a couple visited my office. I smelled trouble from the start; brides or grooms make arrangements, but rarely both, and almost never in person. Nice couple. The sort constantly holding hooves and making goo-goo eyes well into their eighties.”

Diamond flicked her tail, waiting for the catch.

“The shame of it was they were a mismatch at every other level. The unicorn earned a measly fifty thousand in a good year, and the earth pony… well, he could afford a non-disclosure agreement. His parents disapproved, obviously—backwards enough to still think crossing tribes ruins bloodlines.” Spoiled bared her teeth in a fearsome sneer. “Troglodytes. Any wedding planner the mare’s salary could afford were too frightened to take the job, and anypony in the stallion’s price range knew that he’d be cut off before they cut the cake. In either case, taking them on could cripple a career. ‘You’re our last chance,’ they told me.”

Diamond twirled Menace’s feather between her hooves. “And what did you say?”

“That I didn’t run a charity, then took the train home to Ponyville. That should have been the end of it, but this thing—” She jabbed a hoof at her cutie mark. “—wouldn’t let me get a decent night’s sleep. Career killer or not, I know a good match when I see one; thoroughbreds don’t risk their inheritance for a summer fling. I took Valentide to see if we could negotiate with the parents, but…” Spoiled clicked her tongue. “We tried, anyhow. The couple went through with the wedding—cheaper than my standard, and drab if you ask me, but they seemed happy with it. Happiest newlyweds I’d seen in a while. And do you know what happened?”

She didn’t, but Diamond had a good guess. “Disowned and lost his money?”

Spoiled nodded. “Out of the will, family gatherings, and Hearth’s Warming cards. I hear his mother burned his photographs, but ponies say a lot of things.” She rubbed her chin, letting her gaze travel over Diamond’s head and past the game room’s walls. “I believe the stallion’s some manner of traveling salespony these days.”

Diamond leaned on the billiards table, poking at the corralled balls with the feather. The 8-ball had little claw marks scored across it. “I guess this is the part where you tell me this is what happens when you go outside your class, and why I shouldn’t do it?”

“No.” Spoiled rounded the table to join Diamond on the other side. “This is the part where I tell you that if you do, they damn well better be worth it. Ninety-nine percent of the ponies you’ll meet are absolute garbage, rich or poor. The Silvers are a pack of snakes, Berry Punch is a lush, the mailmare’s a complete mess, Blueblood’s so coddled I’m astounded that he can breathe on his own, and I’m such a bitter old nag my step-foal would rather spend time with an inbred pigeon.”

“Mother, I…” Diamond tried to keep the frustration out of her sigh. “That’s not..."

Spoiled stopped her with a hoof. “The only ponies worth your time are the exceptions. Ponies like your father.” Smiling didn’t come naturally to her face. It always looked like it hurt to do, even when she meant it. “Or ponies like you. You’re the one percent, Diamond Tiara.”

Somewhere in the hallway, Diamond registered the sound of hooves treading the carpets and shutting doors. An arcade machine whistled and bleeped a merry little theme song to itself.

Diamond felt her mouth open, though she didn’t know what to do with it. “…oh.” A slurry of feelings too gnarly and huge to grasp sloshed in the pit of her stomach. In one smooth sweep of her hoof, Diamond tossed her mane over her withers. “Well, I already knew that. I mean, I-I’m Diamond Tiara, for pony’s sake.” She half-smiled and blinked away the wet in her eye. “I’m the best.”

“Clearly.” Spoiled took a moment to organize her thoughts. When she spoke again, she spoke soft and slow, the way one might approach a skittish animal. “You… frustrate me sometimes, but I never meant for you to feel like anything less. I’m sorry if I did.”

Diamond Tiara shifted her hooves. “Okay.”

Spoiled raised her eyebrows. “Is it?”

“I still don’t know why you didn’t say anything at the wedding,” Diamond mumbled. Sensing a retort, she lifted her head and added, “I already know Canterlot society stinks. I don’t care about Canterlot. You still could’ve… I dunno, said something to me instead of complaining about bridesmaid dresses?” She wrinkled her nose. “Like, salmon and apricot’s practically the same color; nopony’d even notice.”

“Wha—are you colorblind? They’re ENTIRELY different! In a photo lineup, she would have stuck out like—” Spoiled Rich shook her head and got back on topic. “Alright. Maybe I made a mistake with that, but I’m not a mind reader. I can’t know what you’re feeling if you never tell me. I’m still new at this.”

Diamond flicked her tail. “I guess…”

I’m new at a lot of new stuff too, but when I mess up I still tell ponies I’m sorry. Usually. After the school election, she’d gotten better about it. Or at least, she’d tried to be. Becoming the pony she wanted to be didn’t happen overnight, and most days, Diamond couldn’t tell the difference between getting better and sliding back into bad habits.

To be totally fair, Spoiled had said she was sorry. It didn’t fix anything, and it didn’t even make Diamond feel much better, but it was still something. More than she’d hoped for, in fact. A lot more.

“I guess I get that,” said Diamond.

Something poked her scalp. Diamond reached into her mane and pulled a feather out from behind her ear. Menace must have put it there yesterday when he’d ridden on her head. “I really didn’t get Menace to spite you, you know. It didn’t have anything to do with you.”

“I know.” It didn’t seem to bring Spoiled much comfort. She shrugged. “Silly me, thinking that getting a pet might be something we did together.”

Diamond Tiara frowned. She’d never thought about it that way. “If it makes you feel better, I think he picked me more than I picked him.”

Spoiled reached under a bench and pulled out a fat clump of blue and white knitting. The remains of Menace’s sweater vest had been torn down the middle, its ragged threads jabbing out in fuzzy blue prickles. “Honestly, I wish you had done it out of spite.” She sighed, scanning the game room for something they’d missed. “It would make all of this so much easier.”

That, Diamond could understand. Spoiled’s lying out of malice would have been better than being honest out of love. “Do you really think he’s going to die, Mother?”

“Yes.”

Diamond hung her head.

“…but I’ve been wrong before.” She reached down, brought up Diamond’s chin, and adjusted the tiara. “I don’t know for certain. Nopony does. Okay?”

The tiny sweater vest passed from Spoiled’s hooves into Diamond’s. It still smelled like Fluttershy’s house, mixed with pigeon musk and the scent of her own strawberries-and-cream shampoo. “There’s never been another dove like Menace. He’s brave and he’s handsome and he’s smart, and even though he’s got that ‘tortliosis’ thing with his neck, it never stopped him.” She hugged the tattered crochet against her chest. “Maybe he’s the ninety-nine percent to everypony else, but not to me.”

“I can understand that.” Spoiled’s tail slowly swayed behind her as she approached a column of pinball machines at the back of the room. Behind it, the wall’s wood paneling pushed outward, slightly ajar: the door to the second liquor cabinet that Dad and Spoiled thought Diamond didn’t know about. She squinted at the flash of white in the corner. “Hm.”

Without being asked, Diamond dragged the pinball machine out of the way. The liquor cabinet had been installed into the wall itself, so high that a grown pony had to go on their hind legs to reach it.

Spoiled rolled up the sleeves of her robe and opened the door wider. Her ears went limp. “Oh, dear. Diamond? I found him.”

Several of the wine bottles and decanters had fallen on their sides, though none appeared to be broken. A thin trail of down feathers and yarn bits drifted down from the liquor cabinet to settle on the ponies below.

On the edge of the top shelf, so high that Diamond had to stand on her hind legs to see, a black and white shape rested atop of a blue salt lick. Ragged wingtips draped over the sides to cast a pronged shadow over Diamond’s face. Menace’s legs poked straight up, his toes curled and bright pink against the mahogany.

“I’m so sorry, Diamond Tiara. You did everything you could.” Spoiled wrapped a foreleg around Diamond’s withers and squeezed. “Sometimes you can try your best, but it still doesn’t turn out the way you want it to.”

Something went clink.

When Diamond looked again, she couldn’t see the little pink toes anymore. No wing hanging off the salt lick, either. Squinting, she took a couple of steps backward. Her gaze flashed between the shelves and the remains of the sweater vest in her hoof. It didn’t have any buttons. Looking closer, the crochet knit hadn’t snagged and unraveled, and it hadn’t been torn, either. It had been ripped. Twitching her ears, she caught the sound of something scratching at the salt.

“He’s not dead.”

Spoiled scooped her off her hooves and hugged harder. Diamond’s hooves dangled limply over the hardwood. “Oh, I know it’s hard. At least he got to spend his final days with somepony who loved him. A lot of animals don’t get that much.”

Grains of salt tumbled onto the hardwood floor. Maybe it was Diamond’s imagination, but that salt lick looked closer to the edge than it had been a second ago. It edged forward a few centimeters.

Somepony must have seen the open liquor cabinet and closed it, trapping him inside. But how did he get up so high in the first place? Remembering the claw marks on the billiards balls, Diamond squirmed out of Spoiled’s grasp enough to see a clear path from the table to an arcade machine to the cabinet. All of those would have been too high to jump.

“I think…” Diamond slipped out of the hug and readjusted her tiara. “I think Menace flew up there and got stuck.”

At the sound of his name, Menace’s black head poked over the salt lick and blinked out of synch. He fluttered his wings in excitement and rushed forward.

Diamond stepped back. “Uh, Mother?”

Spoiled’s head jerked up at the distinctive clap of wings. “…oh.”

The nine-hundred-bit salt lick imported from the Griffonstone Mountains tumbled down. Two decanters and a bottle of cognac went with it. Diamond ducked under a pinball machine.

Glass exploded and Spoiled screamed and over it all, pigeon wings flapped in a panic.

When the dust settled, Diamond Tiara opened her eyes to discover a soggy Spoiled Rich shivering in a robe soaked in alcohol. Menace swung upside-down next to her, tangled in the robe ties and kicking his little feet in the air as he tried to right himself. Both smelled like they’d spent the last two years in Berry Punch’s bar.

“I tried to tell you,” Diamond said. “Menace isn’t dead.” She decided to take her bird back before Spoiled decided to correct that. “How are you feeling, buddy?”

Cognac splattered across Diamond’s face as Menace shook himself. He tilted his head to the side and pooped on the remains of his sweater vest. If Diamond didn’t know better, she’d say that he’d done it on purpose.

“I’ll take that as ‘feeling better’.” In fact, he hadn’t been this active and alert since the day she’s met him. Menace hopped down the length of Diamond’s foreleg, happily snapping up the salt grains in her coat. He fluttered his wings, blinking bright white eyes at the havoc that he’d wrought.

Spoiled wrung amber streams of cognac out of her mane. Slowly, she peeled off the soaked house robe, unclenched her teeth, and waited for her hooves to stop shaking. “I. Hate. This. Pigeon.”

“I don’t get it; how’d he recover so fast? We only left him alone for, like, a half-hour.” Since Diamond arrived, he’d done nothing but lie still, scratch his sweater, and… generally act like a bird on his deathbed. Did that part count as rest? He certainly hadn’t slept. “What was he doing before I got back home?”

“Sleeping, mostly. He got himself out of the crochet at one point, so I stuffed him back in and...” Spoiled looked up from patting her coat dry with a decorative towel. A slow realization darkened her face. She looked five seconds from stomping somepony to death with her bare hooves.

“Mother? Are you okay?”

“Perfectly fine.” She clasped her hooves to regain composure. “Sweetheart, do me a small kindness and put the spare sweater on him.”

Diamond took a protective step in front of her bird. “Why?”

“Watch. Trust me.”

Menace jumped into the air the second Diamond’s hoof moved. Spoiled was faster. She grasped him in both hooves, ignoring the vicious pecks and outraged coos while she held him long enough for Diamond to slip him into the new sweater.

As soon as the last button fastened over his back, Menace’s body went limp, his noodly neck swinging like a pendulum. Spoiled dropped him. He cooed in surprise, fluttering to slow his ascent.

Diamond stared at her pigeon in disbelief. “You were faking it?!”

“No. Worse.”

Staring both ponies dead in the eye, Menace flipped on his back, legs in the air and wings splayed out like a fresh corpse. His toes gave a little rigor-mortis twitch for flavor.

“It’s a tantrum.” The moment Spoiled removed the sweater, Menace flipped right side up, scratched his sides, and walked away. “Drama queen.”

“Fluttershy did say he’s worried about his street cred.” Diamond Tiara turned to the pigeon cooing at her hooves. “You’re kind of a butt trumpet, you know that?”

Menace preened in the little puddle of broken glass and alcohol, hopping about and shaking his feathers with pleased little coos. Apparently, he knew how to bathe after all.

“Wretched, putrid creature.” Spoiled sneered as the Menace splattered cognac across the cherrywood floors. He grasped the old tattered sweater vest, shook it in his beak like a dog with a rabbit, and tossed it against the wall. When Spoiled shoved him aside, he only nipped at her fetlocks. “I pour my heart and soul out for your sake, write a speech, and you don’t even have the courtesy to die. Disgusting gutterbird. I hate him.”

Diamond smoothed Menace’s head feathers. He leaned into her hoof with happy little burbles, flicking his tail feathers. “Heh. He likes you, too.”

Epilogue: Crazy Little Thing Called Dove

Diamond Tiara ran her hoof down the pet carrier’s smooth titanium walls. The elongated egg-like shape offered plenty of space to stretch wings and walk around, but not enough for flight. According to that nice pony with the tattoos and the two-headed dog, the Pandora 280X was designed to transport cockatrices, timberwolf pups, malignant cockatoos, pukwudgies, and other vicious creatures under thirty inches. Magicproof and fireproof, built to withstand bite forces up to two thousand psi, it could transport even the most cantankerous of creatures securely and safely or double your money back. Spoiled had kept the receipt, just in case.

“Stand back, he bites.”

Sensing activity outside, the titanium egg rocked gently on the couch. A thin silhouette paced circles behind the tinted shatterproof windows.

“Menace, try and be nice to this one, okay? She’s part of why you’re not still stuck with Dainty in your old aviary.” Diamond glanced over her shoulder, where Doctor Batina Belfry sat with her ears pricked and wings extended. Not surprising; after the hype from last month’s session—not to mention Dad and Spoiled’s solo sessions—the therapist must have been dying to finally meet this pigeon. “Fold your wings,” she whispered. “He’s got a thing about wings. And act intimidated.”

Doctor Belfry nodded. She usually favored to keep her wings out to let her feathers feel the air and objects around her, but sitting on the couch, it didn’t matter much. Besides, she knew her way around her own office. “Are you sure it’s safe to let him out in here? This is a place of healing; we’re not built to handle dangerous animals.” Somehow, she managed to restrain her smile. “From what you’ve told me, he sounds pretty scary.”

The silhouette in the carrier paused a moment and puffed up.

“He is, but Menace still knows how to be polite with friends.” The first lock popped open with a flick of Diamond’s hoof. She lingered on the second one. “Right?”

A sulky little coo rumbled from the air holes. The second and third lock popped free, followed by the release latch at the top. Slowly, the front half of the carrier lifted up to reveal shadows cut by the great spread of Menace’s wings. It was a shame Doctor Belfry couldn’t appreciate the oil slick rainbows shimmering in his black feathers, nor the contrast to the patchy sickly bird from last month.

Menace marched along the couch cushion as he sized up this strange new mare with the dark blue coat and purple plaid vest. Belfry’s ears twitched and swiveled to follow his footsteps on the upholstery. “Good afternoon, you must be Menace.” She knelt to let the pigeon examine his reflection in her sunglasses, and couldn’t hold back her smile when he pecked at the pink lenses. “So this is the infamous criminal. Maximum security and all, my goodness.”

“We spared no expense.” Skipping the velour interior didn’t count.

The slender chain that threaded from Diamond’s hoof to Menace’s vest bumped against Belfry’s fetlock. She blinked and adjusted her glasses—an old force of habit, she’d once explained. “Is that a leash? I take it that his flying’s improved.”

Did flapping six inches from the cage to her hoof really count as flying? Diamond doubted it; he still corkscrewed and double-twisted his way everywhere else and half of those ended in crash landings. Luckily, most things in Diamond’s room could take a hit. “It keeps him out of trouble. The leash came with his new harness and flightsuit—here, I’ll show you.” She scooted closer.

Menace II Society cooed incredulously, watching Belfry’s primaries unfurl and stretch for him. Puffing his own feathers, he flapped and backed up Diamond’s foreleg.

“Don’t worry, it’s okay,” Diamond told him. “Besides, don’t you want to show off your tough new vest?”

Nopony, not even Fluttershy, had softer feathers or a gentler touch than Doctor Belfry. The edge of her feathers skimmed the slick sea leather covering Menace’s chest. “Feels like good quality.”

“It is, and it’s red so it’ll pop with his black and white colors. If he gets lost, it’ll be easier to find him, and Fluttershy says bright colors are good for scaring off predators. Kinda like one of those poison frogs, except instead of poison he’s got—”

“Spikes.” Belfry raised her eyebrows and gently tapped the sharp chrome. Twin lines of fearsome spikes ran the length of Menace’s spine, complemented by the rounded studs on his sides. Cats or hawks looking for an easy meal were in for a nasty surprise. Opalescence had found that out the hard way; hopefully, those stitches could come out soon. “Is this a pigeon or a porcupine? Heh, you’re not part dragon are you, Menace?”

As if Spoiled would’ve let anything less than a hundred-percent purebred fly in one of her weddings. Being part dragon would explain Menace hoarding that pile of coins in his nest, but being a Rich explained it a lot more. “The spikes were Rarity’s idea. I told her I wanted something to stop him picking at his feathers, but still let him feel big and strong.” Diamond gave her pigeon a harsh look. “Instead of pretending to literally die of embarrassment and scaring everypony half to death because he’s a butt.”

Menace looked up from investigating the therapist’s wing. He tilted his head, nibbling a loose blue feather he’d swiped.

“Yeah, you. A big smelly butt.”

“Hmm.” Doctor Belfry lowered the pink sunglasses. Her hazy purple eyes couldn’t focus, but always seemed to zero in on you anyway, wrong direction or not. “Yes, I suppose that’s one way to view it. But I can’t help but wonder if he might have had another reason.”

Diamond Tiara huffed. “Yeah, could’ve seen that coming. Uh—so to speak.”

Belfry only snickered.

Diamond’s mane dangled over the edge of the couch as she rolled on her back. “I guess just calling him a butt’s kind of a cheap answer, isn’t it?” Dad always said you get what you pay for. Quick fixes did the trick if she didn’t want to dig, but if Diamond wanted something valuable, she couldn’t settle for a discount solution.

Sharp little nails pricked her coat as Menace took his sweet time ambling down Diamond’s back leg. On the way, he took a figure-eight detour around her stomach before he finally settled on her chest. The soft purrs of his contented coo vibrated against her ribcage. One eye blinked, then the other. Slowly, his neck twisted around until his upside-down head went right-side-up. The handsome little jerk had an annoying habit of being impossible to stay mad at.

For a moment, Diamond considered apologizing for calling him a butt. Being sorry for it didn’t make it any less true though, so she didn’t. The label didn’t seem to bother him anyway. “You really scared me, you know that?”

The chain leash jingled with the flick of Menace’s tail.

“If you were Menace in that situation,” mused Belfry, “why do you think you would have done it?”

“I dunno… maybe I’d already be in a crummy mood because my neck hurt all the time? I remember when we finally took him to Doctor Fauna, she said that Menace probably had a rough time in the aviary and he used to spend all his time in there. I don’t think he’d ever been in a house before I got him.”

While she listened, Belfry rolled her shoulders and stretched her wings. Menace tensed, an angry ruff of feathers fluffing at the base of his vest collar until the pegasus folded her wings again.

It didn’t seem to bother him enough to start a fuss, but Diamond kept a tight grip on Menace’s chain anyway. “He doesn’t like other birds either way, but it’s still a huge change. If it were me, I’d feel nervous—”

Menace flapped his wings hard.

“—but luckily, Menace isn’t scared of anything.”

Doctor Belfry nodded. “It’s a good thing you have him around to protect you.”

Diamond grinned. “Yeah. And now that he’s got his new vest, everyone else knows to watch out.” After one too many accidents (and sore flanks), Dad had also learned to check before he sat down. “I bet it’s harder to scare anyone in a sweater vest, and it’s not like he can speak Ponish. I mean, we know how to communicate, but it’s not the same.” She rubbed the pretty rainbow feathers in Menace’s neck. “Guess he didn’t know any other way to tell me he hated it.”

Now that she thought about it, Diamond should have gotten the hint when Menace kept nipping at his buttons and pulling the crochet. Maybe he’d been telling her he hated the vest from the beginning. Maybe she just didn’t want to listen.

“He looked so cute in his little vest… and it’s not like Fluttershy gave it to him as a fashion statement, he had to keep warm and quit picking his feathers. I tried to tell him he only had to wear it until Rarity finished a new vest and harness, but he still threw a fit whenever a sweater came out.” In fact, Menace had resorted to attacking pony sweaters at this point. Diamond had no idea what she’d do when winter came. “Eventually, I gave up. He had to just walk around with his bald skin when Silver Spoon finally came to meet him.”

The doctor sat up, twitching her ears. “I heard you’d been grounded.”

“I was.” Diamond’s voice lowered into a quiet mumble. “Apple Bloom wanted to see my new pet, so she set up a pet day. Apparently, her big sister has them all the time. I hadn’t seen Silvie in two weeks and didn’t want to wait two more, so I negotiated.”

What a waste. A whole dinnertime brokering with Dad, and for what? She should have just been patient and waited out her sentence. By then, Menace would have had his new flightsuit, and maybe…

Diamond lashed her tail with a snort. Worrying about coulda-beens wasted everypony’s time—especially hers.

“Do you need a moment, Diamond Tiara? We can shelve this for now, if you want to.” The nice thing about Doctor Belfry was that when she said “later,” it always meant Diamond’s “later,” not hers. If that definition of “later” meant five minutes, five months, or five decades, the doctor wouldn’t argue.

In fact, if Diamond decided to drop the talk altogether and braid Belfry’s tail until the hour ended, she could. She could kick the punching bag in the corner until her hooves got sore, or play a game of Oligarchy (though playing with two ponies kind of missed the point). If she wanted to take a nap or call Spoiled Rich every bad name in the book, she could. And she had.

Taking five might be good. Diamond nodded.

Doctor Belfry waited patiently. “However,” she added after a quiet couple of minutes, “I can’t know your answer unless you tell it to me.” She felt at an empty spot on the couch. “I hope you didn’t sneak out on me. I lose more clients that way.”

“No, I’m still here. It’s fine. We can start again in a little bit.”

Diamond put Menace on the couch so she could sit up. This room had no windows, so Belfry had decorated the walls with art other foals had given her.

“You just put it up without looking at it? How do you know if the art’s any good?”

“Somepony put their heart into making them. They’re beautiful.”

The trippy portrait of an alicorn—not any of the princesses, but somepony with a black coat and an acid green and pink mane—didn’t fit Diamond’s definition of beauty, but whatever. She followed the wall up to an arched ceiling that went for miles and caught every sound. The uncomfortable coughs, the awkward laughter, and all the grueling confessions echoed and bounced right back. Everything said in here mattered—a fact that Diamond had once mentioned. Though Belfry appreciated the metaphor, she’d explained that the arched ceiling’s acoustics helped to pinpoint sounds.

Right now, the doctor’s horseshoes—the same kind worn by tap dancers—clicked across the hardwood as she headed for one of the toy shelves. After a moment of consideration, she picked out a slinky. One of the metal jumbo ones that could go down three flights of courthouse stairs.

Menace hopped to the edge of the armrest, watching light glint off the sides as the slinky flowed from hoof to hoof. Diamond considered giving the chain enough slack to let him flutter to the floor, but that still wouldn’t leave enough room to walk around. “Is it okay if I let him off-leash a little while? He can’t poop on anything while he’s wearing his outfit.”

The doctor flopped onto a beanbag, idly playing with the slinky. Sprawled halfway on the floor with her wings dangling at her sides, a passerby could have taken her for a lazy teenager killing time listening to rock records. Tipping her head back, she shrugged. “Hey, you’re the boss in here, remember? He’s your pigeon; you know him better than me.”

Wrapping the chain leash in her hooves, Diamond unhooked the vest and watched her pigeon explore the big lumpy beanbag and the noises it made when he pecked it. The office sofa stood on legs so tall that younger foals needed a ramp to reach the cushions. At this height, Diamond sat at Princess Celestia’s eye level. Nopony could look down on her; probably some psychological mumbo-jumbo to help foals spill their guts.

A pretty good trick, Diamond Tiara had to admit. “My plea deal said that I couldn’t go more than four miles from home, so pet day inside the barn was out.”

On the floor, Belfry looked up from her beanbag like a yearling waiting for storytime. “What, did your parents think you’d skip town?” The slinky stretched and bounced in a swirl of silver. Menace paced behind her head, burbling enviously.

“I think they realized that going any farther might be a good excuse to break my three-hour time limit.” Diamond wrinkled her nose. “Couldn’t even haggle for fifteen more minutes.” Her gut said that Doctor Belfry had a hoof in Dad’s new resolve, but she couldn’t call it out. Annoyingly, the confidentiality of one-on-one sessions applied to everypony. “So yeah, that’s why we met in Spoiled’s greenhouse.”

“She actually let your friends meet there unsupervised?” Doctor Belfry seemed pleased.

“Only because she didn’t want Apple Bloom and her dog in the main house. We would’ve met in the yard, but Randolph hates ponies running around on the grass, and Menace hadn’t gotten used to his leash yet. Besides, he likes the greenhouse. Right, Menace?”

Menace II Society snatched the middle of the slinky and gave it an experimental tug. Vibrations ripped outwards on both sides. With a flapped of excitement, he began to hop up and down, watching the ripples swell into tidal waves.

Diamond chose to take that as a yes. “We called it a pet day, but technically, Silvie’s the only one that brought her pet. Winona’s supposed to belong to the farm but she’s really more Applejack’s dog. Scootaloo doesn’t have anything, and Sweetie Belle wanted to bring her sister’s cat, but…”

Sweet Celestia there’s blood EVERYWHERE! What did you do to my baby, you vicious little monster?!

“…Opal and Menace aren’t exactly friends.” Maybe if Diamond sent another get-well bouquet, Rarity would lift the lifetime ban. “I figured it’d be easier to just get Silvie and Apple Bloom.”

“What sort of pet does Silver Spoon have?” The center of Belfry’s slinky slowly drew away from her. She kept a tight grip on her ends, while Menace pulled the middle backwards like a bowstring.

“A fish—one of those fancy fighting fish with the long flowy fins. He’s blue and his name’s Ferdinand. One time last year, Silvie brought him to school to show how he could swim through hoops and do jumps and dance.” Diamond rubbed the back of her neck. “And Menace…”

Menace pooped on the table and pecked at the glass bowl. If fish had eyelids, Ferdinand would have squinted at him. He slowly eased into the safety of his moss fronds and exchanged a look with Silver Spoon, troubled bubbles trailing out of his mouth.

Silver, of course, smiled politely—the classic let’s-be-optimistic-and-supportive smile she often pulled out at student council for President Pip’s proposals. The bad proposals. “Good afternoon, Menace II Society. It’s…” She stirred her tea as the pigeon hopped forward, shedding feathers behind him. Diamond couldn’t help but notice she’d added more sugar than usual today. “It’s a pleasure. My name is Sterling Silver Spoon, and this is my good friend, Ferdinand.”

Ferdinand continued to bubble grouchily.

“Don’t be rude. We’re meeting new friends.” Silver shook excess tea off her spoon, nodding kindly to Apple Bloom and Winona.

Winona plowed through a plate of cookies while Apple Bloom waved the sheepdog’s white paw for her. “Yeah, say hello, Winona!” Cookie crumbs tumbled out of Winona’s mouth. She wagged her tail and yipped.

Puffing his bald chest, Menace backed away from the wet nose slowly snuffling its way toward his feet.

Diamond gave him an encouraging smile. “It’s a new friend. You love new friends, right?”

Menace slapped at Winona’s nose with a wing and flapped to the safety of Diamond’s tiara.

“A little awkward, but that sounds perfectly natural for animals meeting each other for the first time,” Doctor Belfry said. “Especially if they aren’t used to being around other species.”

Diamond’s legs waved in the great gap of air between the couch and the floor. “The pets weren’t really the problem.”

Steam rose from the untouched tea in Silver’s hooves while she watched the pigeon thrust his neck into a teacup of safflower seeds. Flurries of pigeon dust swirled over his patchy feathers and bare skin and the tablecloth. Menace stared back at her with blank pus-white eyes. “He certainly is something,” she said.

Diamond’s eyes snapped up from her cucumber sandwich. “He’s beautiful.”

Menace coughed, scattering half-eaten seeds across the table before he pooped on the saucer.

“He doesn’t look like the pigeons we had in Manehattan. You… you said he’s a purebred?” Silver’s smile said I-don’t-get-it-but-I’m happy-you’re-happy. Her eyes said I’m-five-seconds-from-throwing-up. “Is, um… is that why he’s so… different?”

Diamond Tiara raised an eyebrow. “Different how?”

Not even a flinch from Silver Spoon. She sipped her tea and said, “He’s not grey or chubby, and his neck’s long and curved. He reminds me of my grandmother’s cane.” Another long sip. Another shrug. Purposefully trying to diffuse the situation and avoid offense—avoid the truth.

She didn’t do it to be dishonest—not on purpose. Keeping the peace and maintaining decorum came naturally to Silver Spoon. She didn’t mean anything by it, and Diamond tried not to take it personally.

“I suppose you might call him… unique!”

Diamond tried very hard.

Menace’s head rolled 180 degrees in the wrong direction with a beak stuffed full of seeds and a neck made of rubber. The cup tipped under his weight, and the pigeon stumbled across the table, head wobbling and bobbling.

“He kinda looks like that drinky bird on Cheerilee’s desk, don’t he?” Apple Bloom giggled. “Ya know, I like him. He’s funny lookin’.”

The nerve! Even with a former Manehattanite’s natural anti-pigeon prejudice, at least Silver Spoon tried to be polite.

Heat flushed Diamond’s cheeks. “Your FACE is kinda funny looking, blank flank!” She sniffed at Winona, who let out a small warning yip. “And at least I gave my pet a bath. today”

Silver hid her muzzle behind an unusually long sip of tea and leaned in Apple Bloom’s direction.

“HAY! You—” Apple Bloom frowned at Silver Spoon. “No, I ain’t gonna apologize; she’s the one!” She swung around to lob Diamond’s glare right back at her. “There’s nothin’ wrong with my face, and who’n the hay are you callin’ a blank flank, anyway?”

“Well, I didn’t mean Silver and I certainly didn’t mean me.” Diamond fluffed her mane and pretended to dismissively examine the hydrangeas. “Process of elimination says it’s you, blank flank.”

“Diamond Tiara, that don’t even make any sense. My flank’s not even blank anymore!”

Curious about all the fuss, Menace flew to Diamond’s shoulder. It took him a couple of tries to get there. Diamond cupped his head in her hoof and gave him a kiss. “What a coincidence,” she sneered. “Menace isn’t funny looking. Guess we’re saying all sorts of things that aren’t true today.”

“And it went downhill from there.” By now, half of Diamond’s body had slid off the couch. “Silvie tried to distract us with small talk, but we managed to get into another fight anyway. Somewhere in there, I called Winona a rental dog, and Bloom’s all like, ‘Least she’s got manners and isn’t too dumb to follow orders’ and… yeah.” She sighed. “I’m sorry, doctor.”

Doctor Belfry had been sitting up and alert for a while now, and she adjusted the pink glasses on the tip of her muzzle as she absorbed the information. “It’s good to know that you’re sorry, Diamond. However, I feel—”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re not the one I should apologize to.” Being grounded had been a good excuse to avoid it. Now that her sentence was up, Diamond found herself tiptoeing around Apple Bloom’s usual haunts and conversations with the other two Crusaders floated in awkward limbo. “I don’t want to, though. Like, I’m sorry about it, but also not. You know?”

“You feel bad about what you said, but not why you said it.”

Diamond nodded.

The doctor flicked her tail in thought. “Why did you call her a blank flank when she isn’t one?”

“Because thin ponies never stop thinking they’re fat.” Mom had told her that—usually in the context of spin, advertising, or psyching out the competition (same thing, really). The last time she’d said it, Mom had been watching Spoiled from across the War Room. “I knew it’d work, and I got so mad about what she said about Menace.”

On the floor, Menace wrestled the slinky’s vicious metal coils in mortal combat. He’d already wrested it from Belfry’s clutches, but that had just been round one. Diamond smiled watching him. How could Dainty have ever given away such a priceless little dove? What an idiot.

“It’s weird,” Diamond said. “It’s not the first time somepony’s said something nasty about him. I’m pretty sure Apple Bloom didn’t even really mean anything by it, not the way Dainty Dove threatened to feed him to the cat, or how Spoiled calls him a gutterbird.” These days, admittedly, it leaned more towards a term of endearment. “Cousin Buttermilk said he looked like a weird turkey, too. But none of that bothered me the way ‘funny looking’ did.”

Doctor Belfry leaned in her beanbag chair and steepled her hooves. “It can feel a bit different when it comes from somepony whose opinion you respect. As if they’ve betrayed your trust.”

Diamond Tiara snorted hard. “Pff, as if I give half a bit about Bloom’s opinion.” Heat flushed her face, and she snorted again. “What’s she know about pedigrees? Her dog’s a mutt.”

In the corner of Diamond’s eye, her therapist tapped quick notes on her braille typewriter.

“Thing is… she also wasn’t wrong about him not listening, and I got embarrassed and… well, why doesn’t he listen to me? I’m nice to him, he likes me, and I know he understands most of what I say. Other pigeons carry messages and play table tennis and read street signs, but I can’t even get mine to stop biting my butler or quit pooping on the rug! Pony’s sake, Ferdinand listens and he doesn’t even have ears.”

Metal jangled along the hardwood while Menace sauntered circles around the beanbag, dragging the slinky behind him. He bobbed his head and shook it at Belfry, quite proud of himself. The doctor made a token grab for it before he scampered away.

“Oh, stealing from blind ponies just to tease them? I see how it is.” Belfry made a show of shaking her hoof at him. She humphed, typed a few more notes, and turned back to Diamond. “Training is built on relationships, and just like with ponies, relationships take time to build. That’s true even if you’re both already close.”

With a non-committal mumble, Diamond eased off the couch in a hard clack of hooves. She began to pace.

“Is training Menace the only thing bothering you?”

“Maybe.” Circling the punching bag, Diamond paused. “I dunno. It’s weird.”

“How so?”

Plap. The bag rocked with Diamond’s kick. “Until now, everything about Menace has been a fight.” Plap-plap. “I fought to get him away from the dove keeper, I had to fight Spoiled to keep him—” Plap-plapplap-plap. “—and when we got home, I fought to keep him alive and convince everypony around me not to give up on him.” The chain creaked, swinging so far back the bag bumped the wall. “Apple Bloom insulting him almost felt good. At least I knew what to do, then.”

With the slinky thoroughly mangled and humiliated, Menace took to exploring the rest of the office. He flapped up to a chair, then a doll shelf, picking at the button eyes and tugging yarn hair.

Diamond made the kissy noise to call him back, but he ignored her. Hopefully, all this talk hadn’t hurt his feelings. “These days it’s just the two of us, and I don’t need to fight anypony anymore. The other day, I mentioned to Spoiled how I’d read pigeons mate for life and parents raise the babies together until they’re almost grown instead of kicking them out of the nest.”

A quick series of notes tapped along Doctor Belfry’s typewriter. “How did that go?”

“…Good, actually.” Diamond Tiara sat on her rump and frowned, still watching the swinging bag. “She told me she hadn’t known that about pigeons in this sorta thoughtful way and went back to her magazine. Spoiled still doesn’t like Menace, but she doesn’t hate him anymore. I think he’s growing on her.”

Dad needed a bit more time after Menace shattered thousands of bits’ worth of imported salt and brandy. The constant nipping and wing-slaps didn’t help, either.

“The weird part’s that, after it happened, I saw how Spoiled looked at Menace a tiny bit differently, and I wanted to take it back. I wanted to make it so that I never said anything at all.”

“Enemies can make it easier to focus your goal, and goals are markers for progress.” Doctor Belfry capped off her notes and extended a gentle wing. “But you know, Diamond, you don’t always need a fight or an enemy to make progress.”

Diamond raised an eyebrow. “You told me there’s always a struggle.”

“I did. A struggle and a fight aren’t quite the same things.” The doctor settled beside Diamond, a healthy distance from the swinging punching bag. “For example, you can struggle with a math problem, but that doesn’t mean you’ve suddenly got a blood feud with algebra.”

“I guess.” Diamond still didn’t see how she was supposed to win without an opponent to beat. Looking back on it, loving something only she appreciated had felt justified. Earned. “You know how I’ve been grounded the past two weeks?”

A smile flicked across Belfry’s muzzle. “I hear it’s been a key opportunity to develop your harmonica skills.”

“Well, besides becoming more talented than I already am, I also got to spend lots of time with Menace, and…”

There had to be some way of saying this that didn’t end with somepony’s I-Told-You-So. Doctor Belfry had explained (several times) how needing help or being wrong didn’t make ponies losers. If anything, realizing those things supposedly helped them become winners because loss helped you learn. It still felt like a kick in the teeth, though. Admitting setbacks never got any easier.

Diamond flattened her ears. “Okay, don’t tell anypony I said this...”

“Total confidentiality.”

“Keeping a pet’s harder than I thought it’d be. Dad won’t let me have the maids clean his perches or change his cage liner, so I do pretty much everything myself.” That jab about the Riches raising their own children came back to bite her, and it had nasty teeth. “I didn’t mind it when I couldn’t go anywhere anyway, but now that I need to cram in pageant practice, and strategy sessions with Silver, and hang out with my other friends, my day’s always packed. I don’t always have time to play with him, and if I take him along with me—”

A pile of storybooks tumbled off a shelf behind them. Menace climbed out of the rubble, waddling over crayon illustrations of how sadness made ponies feel inside.

“Yeah, that happens.” Diamond had no idea what she’d do when she left for Regionals in Appleloosa next month.

“Menace is—” Belfry frowned in the direction of another crash, clearly restraining a sigh. “Menace is part of your family. That means compromise; you can’t expect to introduce a new element into the mix without some change. …He didn’t break anything over there, did he?”

Diamond leaned back to view the carnage. “Uh, a box of crayons, and that book’s kinda crumpled. …And I don’t think you have a slinky anymore.”

She didn’t restrain the sigh this time, though Belfry still smiled at the sound of a mangled slinky dragging across the floor. “You’ve only had him a month and you’re still learning about each other.” The smile grew. “And you know what? That never stops.”

“Never?”

“Nope. I’ve known my mother for almost thirty years and have four psychology degrees, and learned just last week that she has chiroptophobia.” Casually, Doctor Belfry rubbed her chin as if the idea had struck out of nowhere. “Hm. Speaking of mothers…”

Diamond brushed off the segue with a flick of her tail. “Nice try, Belfry. Not this month.”

“Had to give it a shot.” Little bird feet slapped behind them. Belfry flicked an ear. “Alright, then on the subject of stepmothers, how have things been with Spoiled?”

Menace strutted to Diamond’s side, proudly sporting his new mangled slinky necklace. With the spikes of his vest, it looked like a metal snake had lost a fight with a barbed-wire fence. Diamond tried to untangle him, but he flicked his tail and cooed in protest. Apparently, he wanted to wear the trophy home. She shrugged. “You saw her yesterday; don’t you know?”

“I know her version of the story, not yours.” The typewriter clacked as she typed, while one of her back hooves skimmed notes from yesterday’s session. “She mentioned a recent trip to see family in Canterlot?”

“Yeah, that’s when Buttermilk called my bird a turkey.” Diamond blew a strand of mane from her face. “Like he’s even seen a turkey; he’s five and lives next to a dairy complex. I bet he only knows about them because of his nanny’s stories.”

Jangling with bouncing little hops, Menace circled back to flutter into Diamond’s lap. He stretched his neck just in case she hadn’t seen his war trophy. As compensation for his valiant efforts in the line of duty and conquering the metal springy thingy that looked at him funny, Diamond Tiara gave him feather scritches.

“The trip went fine. Spoiled was… well, she’s been worse. My aunt called us down for an emergency, but then it turned out she’d just spilled her hoof polish and ruined her Gala dress, and wanted Spoiled’s help getting a new one. It put her in a bad mood, but it went fine, otherwise. We didn’t fight the whole trip because she was too busy being mad about wasting a train trip and worrying for no reason. Aunt Honeymilk let me eat a whole cheesecake, and Menace stayed in his carrier all day. It went fine, like I said.”

Belfry hummed in modest approval.

“On the train ride home, though…”

“No.” The novel lowered a quarter-inch to reveal the brunt of Spoiled Rich’s disapproving gaze, just in case a simple ‘no’ wouldn’t suffice. Which it wouldn’t. Before Diamond finished opening her mouth, Spoiled added, “He lasted the past six hours, he can stand one more. We’re in public. Nopony needs to see your ragged little malcontent staggering all over the car. He’ll turn stomachs.”

Diamond Tiara looked around. Empty tables and lonely benches to the right. To the left, more barren suede benches, the door, and their luggage (Spoiled didn’t trust the baggage ponies). “Whose stomachs? Mother, we’re the only ones here.”

A page turned. “Details.”

“What if I let him out for only a few minutes? He’s been in there all day and needs to stretch his wings—”

“And whose fault is that? I told you to leave him home, did I not?”

“—and I promise to keep him on his leash the whole time. Please, Mother?”

Compromise had never been a strong suit for Spoiled Rich, especially when it came to foals. However, this particular foal had the decency to ask instead of demand, which was more than she could have said for other adults in her family. Again, she peered over the edge of her novel. “Alright. If you must.”

“I must, yes.”

“Mm.” The tip of her tail flicked and swished while Spoiled pretended not to watch Diamond nuzzling her pigeon and whisper encouragements while she clipped on the bird leash.

“You’re my big tough Menace, huh? No prison can hold you, no it can’t.” Diamond gave him another little kiss. “No, it can’t!”

At the time, Menace still hadn’t grown completely accustomed to the feeling of being tethered to Diamond’s hoof. Back home, Rarity was still putting finishing touches on his spikey vest, and the bare harness rubbed against his new pin feathers. He decided to give them a break this evening. Just happy to finally be out of the carrier, he settled for skipping around Diamond’s withers and nipping at her mane instead of his harness.

The novel lowered into Spoiled’s lap. “Are you certain you can keep that animal under control?”

Settled behind the tiara, Menace watched the rush of lights and buildings and trees outside the window. He crept forward so that his chest pressed against the steel spires and diamond studs to get a better look. Diamond nudged the dangling leash out of her face. “Positive.”

Spoiled shut her novel with a snap. “Come along, then. We’re going to the dining car.” At Diamond’s surprised expression, she clarified, “That scrawny busboy can’t even keep his ratty mane straight; I doubt he’ll do much better with my order. It needs to be personally delivered.” She motioned Diamond to follow. “And I want you where I can keep an eye on you. Especially that one.”

Menace tipped his head to the side with a pleasant little coo. Spoiled Rich sneered at him.

Outside the Executive Car, the rich-but-not-wealthy ponies packed First Class shoulder to shoulder. Spoiled passed them all without a glance and her nose firmly in the air. Diamond cantered a few steps behind, locking eyes with the occasional bystander.

A stallion in a boater hat turned in one of the adjacent aisles, lifting his eyebrows at the scraggly little bird riding high on a rich filly’s scalp. He tapped his friend on the shoulder and pointed. Diamond smiled at them. Why yes, her dove was the pinnacle of avant-garde beauty. So kind of him to notice. The stallions chuckled and smiled back in that endeared, condescending way adults usually had.

Menace began to pace, stretching his wings and cooing louder than usual, the way he did at dinner time. “What’s the matter? If you’re hungry, we’re already going to get—”

Something bright flashed in the corner of Diamond’s eye. Before she could react, a body jutted in front of her and somepony’s hoof came down hard on hers. Diamond winced and yanked back with a yelp. Startled by the sudden movement, Menace flapped to the floor, scattering feathers and flecks of pigeon dust across the carpet.

Great. Ten steps out and they’d already made a mess.

“Excuse me, we didn’t see—” Diamond blinked up at the unicorn frowning down at her: trendy summer jacket, rings in her ears, gold at her throat, gems in her tail, bracelets on every hoof, and a personality even tackier than her wardrobe. Carat Cut. “…we didn’t see you there.”

“Do watch where you’re going next time, young lady.” She quirked her eyebrows. “Oh, you’re the mouthy little thing from the wedding—Spoiled’s filly. I see your manners have scarcely improved.”

Five seats ahead, Spoiled Rich turned at the sound of her name. Diamond couldn’t read her expression with the snotty mare in the way, but guessed that she wouldn’t be happy. Especially not with more ponies in the aisles turning to see the fuss.

Fires in Diamond’s gut urged her to bite back. A greater urge to avoid an hour of nagging and lectures beat back the flames. It really had been an accident, and it’d be better to move on. Besides, she was hungry. “Sorry, we didn’t mean to.”

“We?” Carat Cut glanced down to see Menace straining his leash with the gleam of shiny copper bracelets in his eyes. “AUGH! What is that filthy pigeon doing on a public train? That can’t be sanitary.”

Menace’s neck sloped to the side.

A dark light gleamed in Carat’s green eyes. She took in the patchy skin, scraggly feathers, and wry neck of Canterlot’s most infamous cake terrorist. The wedding destroyer. “You.” Menace II Society cooed at her. Before Diamond could pull him back, he hopped forward.

Carat Cut kicked him.

The typewriter stopped and Doctor Belfry looked up. “Wait, did she just kick at him, or did the hoof actually connect?”

“Not hard, but she still hit him, and he didn’t even touch her ugly bracelets!” The chain leash twisted tight in Diamond’s grip. She breathed hard through her nose.

“Like, I even apologize to her after she steps on MY hoof, and then she goes and kicks him! Spoiled hated him more than Dainty, Fluttershy’s birds, and Rarity’s cat put together, but she never tried to hurt him.” Diamond forced herself to take a breath. She’d wrapped the leash so tight that she lost circulation in her fetlock. “...I don’t think I’ve been that mad since I got in that fight with Silver. The kind of mad where I’m so angry I can’t breathe, I can’t see or talk or anything.”

“Yes, we’ve talked about that feeling, and possible ways to manage it.” Belfry steepled her hooves. “What did you decide to do with your anger that day?”

“The only thing I could.”

Menace flew into Diamond’s waiting hooves, stumbling through the air the whole way. He pressed into her chest fur as Diamond wrapped him in a protective hug. Little Diamond Tiara stared up at the mare, bearing wide, crestfallen baby blues. Her bottom lip trembled. “Wh-why would you do that? My birdy’s sick! Why did you DO that?!”

By now, more than half of the First Class car was staring at them. The stallion in the boater hat murmured in sympathy and shook his head as the first tear rolled down Diamond’s cheek. She had the entire car in the frog of her hoof.

Carat Cut pulled at her collar. “Oh… hey, now…”

Showtime. Diamond Tiara’s face scrunched in a flood of tears. Not the dignified little droplets of somepony watching a sad opera. Not the sad little whines of a lost foal in the market. No, the rolling, thick, shoulder-shaking tears that weren’t pretty or cute. The real stuff. “Why a-a-are you be-being s-s-so mean to meeeee?”

Spoiled Rich watched some feet away, frowning. She looked at Carat, she looked at Diamond, and then looked at the rest of the train. She made her move.

“Diamond!” She rushed forward, nudging a surprised Carat Cut aside. Spoiled crouched beside her stepfoal and wrapped a protective foreleg around her withers. “Oh there, there, sweetheart, whatever’s the matter?”

Maybe Spoiled didn’t have Diamond’s talent or experience working a crowd, but she could still follow a lead when she saw one, and any socialite worth her trust fund knew how to fake sympathy. She might not have even had to fake it that much.

“W-well, I… I was just walking d-down the aisle…” With a pathetic little whimper, Diamond wiped her eyes and pointed. “And then this lady stepped on my hoof, and it really hurt. I told her I was sorry, but she called me a mouthy brat a-and-and she said my dove was dirty and disgusting and that he shouldn’t be on the train, and then—” She broke into a fresh batch of tears. “And then she—she kicked him!”

First Class gasped.

Carat Cut shrank under the collective glare of forty-two passengers, three baggage ponies, and a ticket taker. “I—now, Mrs. Rich, that’s not quite what happened.” She attempted a kind smile. “The young filly’s just a little overexcited—”

“My hoof, she is!” The stallion in the boater hat jumped up. “I saw the whole thing, and that’s exactly what happened.”

Spoiled Rich shook her head. “Picking on an innocent little filly and her disabled pet—you ought to be ashamed. The poor little dove can hardly fly and he’s been sick all summer. He nearly died last month, but my daughter nursed him back to health.”

“He can’t help the way he looks, ma’am, but I’m sorry if he bothered you.” For flavor, Diamond sniffled and cuddled her pet closer. Menace cooed and blinked, probably wondering why everypony on the train was staring at him like a cancer patient.

Carat’s cheeks turned the color of a ripe radish. Though on the lower end of the Canterlot elite, few ponies on this train came within sneezing range of her income tax bracket, and she wouldn’t see their names in the society pages. They didn’t matter in the long run; none of their names carried.

Somepony a few rows back muttered “poor bird.” Others whispered words like “shameful,” “disgraceful,” and wondered what the kingdom was coming to if the thoroughbreds treated small animals and children this way.

But talk traveled, regardless of class, and it was forty-five to one. Only a fool would try those odds. Carat sighed. “I’m sorry, young filly.”

“Diamond.” For a second—a tiny fraction of a second—a sharp slice of a smile cracked the façade. She stared the unicorn in the eye. “My name is Diamond Tiara.” Sniffling, she dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief a bystander gave her.

“Then I apologize, Diamond Tiara.” Amazing how Carat Cut got a word out with her teeth clenched that tight. “It was rude of me.”

“Th-that’s okay, ma’am.” Diamond blinked shyly at the rest of the train. “M’sorry again for running into you.”

Spoiled chucked an airy all’s-well-that-ends-well chuckle and leaned into Diamond’s ear. “Alright, now you’re milking it.”

“And I’m all like, ‘it’s not milking it, it’s called a finishing move.’ Besides, everypony loves my apology smile.” Diamond let the edge of her hoof skim over Menace’s spikes. “Anyway, that’s how we got free dessert and a discount on dinner.”

The pigeon perked up, watching Doctor Belfry rise from the typewriter and approach them. Light winked off the pink mirror shades with a tilt of her head. “I’m curious, Diamond. How much of that did you actually plan?”

She shrugged. “Not much to plan; I capitalized on what I had to work with, that’s all.” Unhappy burbles rumbled in Menace’s throat, but the constant stroke of Diamond’s hoof kept him calm. While he was distracted, she clipped the leash back on. “Didn’t count on Spoiled playing along, though. That was kind of neat, even though she told me later not to make a habit out of it.”

“And you can really cry on cue? Just like that?”

“Sure, it’s easy. All I need to do is think about—” Diamond skimmed the edge of her teeth with her tongue and glanced at the wall. “—you know, stuff. Sad stuff.”

“Ah, yes. An old method acting trick.” Belfry’s wing stroked her chin. “What sort of ‘sad stuff’ do you think of?”

“Trade secret. Maybe I’ll share it one day.”

“I would like that, Diamond.” A bell chimed. “For a later date, I suppose. For now, that’s our time.” Belfry fetched a section from her notes while Diamond herded her bird into the carrier. “Here are a few things I’d like you to work on until our next one-on-one.”

Surprise, surprise, talking to Apple Bloom (AKA: “contextualizing her feelings”) sat at the top of the list, followed by the usual anger management exercises and, for some reason, a suggestion to keep playing the harmonica.

“Oh, uh, sorry about your slinky, doc. I can pay you for it or—”

Doctor Belfry held up a wing and shook her head. “Things are just things. There’s more where that came from. Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

Outside, two economist journals spread across the waiting room coffee table. Dad juggled trying to read both at once while he also took notes and narrated them to Spoiled. Little of it seemed to sink in, but it distracted Spoiled from constantly staring out of the blinds. Still, she glanced at the window every few minutes, on watch for paparazzi, nosy neighbors, or whoever else might be lurking in the depths of the hallway, hungry for the chance to tell all of Equestria that the Rich family had been seeking therapy.

“Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Rich.” Doctor Belfry smiled. “No trenchcoats and fedoras today?”

“Don’t be absurd, Belfry. It’s nearly ninety degrees and sunny outside.” Spoiled adjusted her wide-brimmed hat and chunky sunglasses. A lace parasol big enough to occupy its own chair leaned next to her.

“Welcome back, Diamond. How’d it go?” Dad eyed Menace’s carrier warily. “We heard a crash in there.”

“Hi, Dad. We had a talk and the doctor gave Menace a new toy.” Diamond smiled at the carrier, then back at Belfry. “It went good, right?”

She nodded. “I think so, yes. We’ve had progress, I think.”

Pricking her ears, Spoiled sat up hopefully.

“And I’m excited to make even more when the four of us meet for next Wednesday’s group session.”

Spoiled slumped again. “Well. Progress is always good news, I suppose.”

“It’s fantastic news.” Dad wrapped Diamond in a side-hug and kissed the top of her forehead. “You know, it’s such a nice day outside, and the economy’s booming, so I was thinking…” He paused to let the anticipation sink in. “Why don’t we all go out and get an ice cream franchise to celebrate?”

Spoiled raised an eyebrow. “Startup or established?”

“Oooh!” Diamond Tiara bounced on her hooves. “Ooh, can I get a majority share? Please?”

“It’s still a startup, but word of mouth is very good,” said Dad. He wished Doctor Belfry a pleasant rest of the day and led his family into the hallway. “You can have twenty-five percent, Diamond.”

The parasol popped open over Spoiled’s shoulder, despite the fact that they weren’t even outside yet. “Fil, don’t be absurd. The child is eleven; she has no business having a quarter share of a franchise, startup or not. We must set boundaries.” She ignored Diamond’s groan of protest. “Ten percent is more than reasonable.”

Diamond groaned louder. Inside the carrier, Menace cooed in solidarity.

I Would Do Anything For Dove (but i won't do that)

During the first week Spoiled Rich moved to Ponyville, Diamond Tiara often wondered if she was really happy to live with them, because her new stepmom never smiled or laughed or talked loud the way other ponies did.

“She likes to smile on the inside,” Dad had explained, though it didn’t explain too much.

Diamond had understood hidden frowns from the time she’d learned to trot; service came with a smile, and Mom said frowny little fillies couldn’t win a shiny trophy. Smiles got ponies to like you. Didn’t Spoiled want to be liked?

“When you’re at home,” Dad had told her, “you shouldn’t need to work at being liked. She likes the chance to be herself for a little while. Some ponies want to wear a fancy necklace so everypony can see them, but others would rather keep them in a safe—feelings can be like that sometimes, too. Understand?”

She hadn’t, but through the years, Diamond Tiara developed a keen talent for spotting a lockbox smile. Hanging out with Silver Spoon meant that she kind of had to; the filly lockbox smiled every ten seconds (along with lockbox scowls, sighs, giggles, eye-rolls, screams, and revenge fantasies). Silver kept her lockboxes in concrete three feet underground, while Spoiled left hers on a closet shelf.

That said, the comparison was moot within Ponyville city limits. Precious few Ponies Who Mattered lived here, and even fewer who played at social politics, so Spoiled rarely had to bother with forced niceties. Nine times out of ten, the face you saw was the real one—not unless she had a very good reason to lock it up that day.

Today was one of those days, and somehow, Diamond suspected she wouldn’t like the reason. Especially not when Spoiled had held this particular lockbox smile since breakfast.

The two of them strode through the summertime shade at a respectable pace. Diamond’s regular business trot, according to Spoiled, wasn’t appropriate for today’s agenda. Fair enough; a three-minute walk didn’t really justify a power trot. Diamond Tiara glanced at their carriage waiting at the base of the dirt path, where a knot of weasels sniffed at the odd contraption parked near Fluttershy’s cottage. Sparkleworks—whose chauffeur/maid/bedtime snitch duties didn’t include pest control—squinted back warily.

“Proper elite do not walk to their appointments, Diamond. We are not here to meander through the square,” Spoiled had told her. Coincidentally, it also meant a chance to show off the new carriage amongst the local peasantry and certainly had nothing to do with the Silvers’ antique luxury coach.

One heard Fluttershy’s cottage long before they saw it. Flocks of songbirds chorused in the branches above them, fuzzy critters barked and growled and chittered on the ground, and fishes splashed in the running stream… And cooing.

Very aggressive cooing.

The birds in the trees went quiet, and several swooped in to land on the fence to watch them pass. Chickens in the yard stopped scratching and turned towards the newcomers. None of them looked too happy.

Diamond blinked at the cooing basket hanging on her side. “I think Menace is awak—”

The basket slammed hard against her barrel, rocking and thumping and bouncing with the slap of pigeon wings. A little pink beak stabbed its way through the wicker and cooed even louder.

Fluttershy’s birds gaped at them a moment.

The yard erupted.

Gangs of finches clung to the thatched roof in a carpet of grey and brown feathers, every one of them fluffed like a cotton ball and screaming their little lungs out. They beeped and scolded and screamed and slammed tiny wings against their chubby stubby bodies. One screamed so hard it lost its grip and fell off the roof into a bush.

Diamond flinched from the outraged hens trying to claw through the fence. “Pony’s sake, Menace, what did you say?!”

Whatever it was, he wasn’t even close to done saying it. One pus-white eye glared daggers from the hole he’d gored through the basket. Menace cooed once. The finches exploded into even louder beeping, and this time, a flock of sparrows, a pair of cardinals, three vultures, two separate mobs of crows, and a particularly outraged peacock swarmed to join the horde.

A little white rabbit with a bad attitude shot them the stink eye from the window. Spoiled returned the favor as she took in the menagerie on the roof. “Sooner we get this over with, the better.”

“Mother, are you—WHOA!” Diamond slammed both hooves on the basket lid before Menace shoved it open. Feathers flew through gaps in the wicker. She practically had to shout to be heard over the commotion of tweets and coos. “Mother, are you sure you don’t want to go to Doctor Fauna? It might be quieter over there?”

Spoiled rapped the door twice—a formality at this point, considering the noise. “Yes, it might. However, Fluttershy comes highly recommended and your… animal is something of a special case.” The lockbox smile faded, a legitimate frown taking its place. Her eyes flashed between Diamond and the basket before returning to the door. “She has a light touch.”

Diamond flicked her tail. “It’s because she’s free, isn’t it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Diamond. Nothing’s free but trouble, you know that.” Another side glance. “But yes. Partly.”

The top half of the door flew open. Fluttershy pulled off a beekeeping mask and gasped at her front yard. “What in Equestria is going on out here?”

Before the question even finished, a cacophony of beeps, chirps, clucks, screams, honks, and whistles rocked the cottage.

“One at a time—one at a time, PLEASE!”

The noise settled. A series of whispered chips traveled from bird to bird. They nodded. In a flurry of brown, the fattest finch came down to perch on the bottom half of the door. It hopped up and down on its absurd little stick legs, beeping at her.

Fluttershy sighed. “I agree, Mr. Feathers, that’s not a very nice thing to say, but—”

Angrier beeping.

“That doesn’t mean you should say such ugly things back.” The pegasus flapped her own wings at a chirp from one of the cardinals. “No, I don’t care what he said about your eggs, that’s still not something you ought to say to a new patient. Where did you all learn to use such language? And against a poor little pigeon all by himself, too. You should know better.”

Fluttershy’s disappointment bent every feathered head there. The peacock and crows shuffled away in disgrace.

“You should all know better.” Finally, Fluttershy turned to the wicker basket. It still rattled with scratching and flapping and cooing. She put a delicate hoof to her mouth, turning to the white rabbit sitting in the window. “Oh my… he does have a bit of a potty mouth, doesn’t he?”

The rabbit crossed its forepaws and nodded.

Fluttershy’s eyebrows rose at the defiant coo inside the basket. “I suppose that’s true, the mean streets do have a language of their own….” She frowned. “But there’s no need to bring my mother into this.”

Diamond gave the basket a gentle flick. “’Mean streets?’ Is that what they’re calling society weddings now?” You’d find everything mean and nasty about Upper Canterlot’s gated communities everywhere except the street.

Compared to the racket outside, the chittering and chirps inside might as well have been whispers. Even those died down to a hush as Fluttershy led Diamond and Spoiled into her living room; the animals seemed to know the difference between casual and business visits. Diamond set the basket on the carpet, opened the latch, and stepped back. Spoiled watched from the safety of the doorway, her ears low and wary.

No explosion of feathers. No rigorous flapping. No scratching or furious cooing. For someone with so much to say before, Menace had gone strangely quiet. If not for the flashes of black and white moving behind the wicker, Diamond might have thought he’d escaped.

Fluttershy sighed and shut the door, where a cluster of hens still glowered at them. “I’m sorry about that. I just don’t know what got into them; they’re normally so well behaved.” She crossed the living room in two smooth flaps to hover above the basket.

The white rabbit fussed under the table, munching alfalfa cubes. It peeked up every few minutes to check on his caretaker, who watched and listened to her new patient in silence. She seemed to be waiting to see if the bird would make the first move.

“Sometimes it’s upsetting,” Fluttershy finally said, “to deal with so many changes at once. It can be overwhelming and frightening; every creature reacts to it in their own unique way.” The statement didn’t have any particular target. She murmured it into the air for anyone to catch. Long threads of pink mane swept over the basket as Fluttershy dipped lower. “There’s no shame in feeling afraid. It’s perfectly natural.”

A soft coo burbled at the back of the basket.

Fluttershy smirked—since when did Fluttershy smirk?—with a sly light in her eyes. “Ooh, tough guy. ‘Not scared of nothin’,’ huh? Well, why don’t you come out and prove it?” Then to Diamond, “He’s a wedding dove, you said?”

Diamond nodded. “He’s got papers, too. I don’t think Menace flew in that many weddings, though.” Pulling out her pigeon’s paperwork, she noticed Fluttershy’s politely-trying-not-to-verbally-judge-your-naming-choices expression. Other ponies might have called it a frown. “He came with the name,” Diamond added. “Good morning, by the way. Menace, say hi.”

Menace did not.

Spoiled Rich—who had not received a second glance from the pegasus, much less a polite greeting or an invitation to sit—cleared her throat.

Fluttershy brushed the basket handle with her hoof. “I think he wants you to open it for him, Diamond. It’d be better to do it on the table, so he’ll be elevated and I can get a better look.” Her tail twitched in the rabbit’s direction. “Angel, clear a spot, please?”

Spoiled stepped closer and cleared her throat again, louder this time.

“There’s cough drops in the drawer.” Fluttershy didn’t even turn her head.

The top of the basket opened slowly as Diamond gently tipped it on its side. Menace shook himself and stepped onto the tablecloth. Fluttershy’s ears tilted forward, eyes wide as she stared into the empty basket. “How… how long did you keep him in there?” She was either horrified or quite impressed. Both, perhaps.

“What do you—” She looked down. Diamond’s mouth fell open.

Black and white feathers plastered the basket, fused to the ragged wicker with pigeon droppings. Violent twisted spikes jutted from every angle like some sort of picnic-time iron maiden. Bits of frayed twigs lay scattered among the feathers, each one torn out by an angry little beak.

Spoiled clicked her tongue at the disemboweled basket. “Well. That’s sixty bits well spent.”

“I—but…” Diamond swung both forehooves between the basket and the pigeon as if she could physically mash the two into a plausible explanation. “How did you do all this in ten minutes?!”

With a little coo, Menace climbed onto her foreleg and blinked remorseless little eyes at her. His bald little chest heaved hard, puffing the five stray feathers clinging to his skin. He wore about half the feathers he’d left the house with.

Practically jumping onto the couch, Spoiled yanked her tail away from the snowfall of down feathers drifting across the rug. “Is it molting?”

The gentle contours of Fluttershy’s face hardened as her eyes lingered over the bald spots. She landed hard beside Diamond, wings still spread high. “No, he’s not.”

Menace jumped, clapping his wings hard at sudden landing. If pigeons had teeth, he would have snarled. He puffed his chest with his little beak wide open, watching Fluttershy’s wingspan as if it might bite back.

Fluttershy stepped back, slowly folded her wings, and waited. They watched each other for a full minute before Menace relaxed his stance. Gently, Fluttershy’s hoof reached out to stroke his chest. The pigeon tensed and cooed unhappily, but he didn’t stop her.

“This is not molting.” Fluttershy’s voice stayed cotton-soft, but those blue eyes seared. “He’s plucking.”

Deciding this would be an ideal time to investigate the thread count on the sofa, Spoiled shifted to the other side of the couch. “Well, don’t look at me—Diamond found the bird this way.” Her hoof yanked off the floor before a floating primary feather touched it.

“You don’t need to act like he’s diseased,” Diamond snapped. “The bird pony already said he’s not sick.” She frowned at the jagged empty spaces where feathers should have been. But she said a lot of things.

“Birds don’t pluck their own feathers because they’re sick; they pluck because they’re upset. Very upset. Sometimes it’s also because they’re bored or not eating right, but in this case…” Fluttershy glanced at Menace with a grim nod. “He says his old home didn’t treat him very well. I’ll give you a birdie sweater to stop him from plucking at himself.”

A sneer wrinkled Spoiled’s muzzle. “Pure incompetence. Glad I fired her.”

For once, we agree on something. Diamond ran her hoof over Menace’s cheek feathers and cradled his head as it began to drift sideways. He trembled, despite the summer heat and the conflux of warm animal bodies crowding the cottage.

It didn’t go unnoticed. Spoiled watched Menace like a tripwire, and she’d been doing it ever since the basket opened.

She’d been unusually quiet too, now that Diamond thought about it. Oh, she’d spoken, but only a spare sentence here and there, and those had been more like thinking out loud. Spoiled hadn’t actually spoken to anypony—or rather, she hadn’t complained.

Critters of all sizes and sorts crawled across walls, slithered over rugs, tramped through rooms, and nested in bookshelves. Feathers and animal hair littered the floor, along with spare bits of food and nesting. The cottage smelled of musk, fur, animal feed, and who knew what else—bad as a barnyard, if not worse. Spoiled never failed to complain of the Sweet Apple Acres “barn stench” that stuck to Diamond’s coat when she came back from visiting Apple Bloom.

Fluttershy had forgotten to properly invite them inside, yet Spoiled hadn’t protested beyond a passive-aggressive cough.

Watching her now, Diamond realized something else: the lockbox smile had vanished. Whatever secret thing she’d hoped for, Spoiled didn’t look forward to it anymore. She met Diamond’s eyes. “Tell her what’s happening with your pigeon, sweetheart.”

Knots twisted Diamond’s stomach. Today had too many variables. Too many questions. Why had Spoiled been so keen to visit a dirty crowded house full of shedding animals at ten in the morning? What had she and Dad talked about out in the hallway? And why did Fluttershy go out of her way to smile so gently at her? Or was that just how she smiled at everypony? Diamond couldn’t remember anymore and didn’t want to find out.

They should have been done by now. We know why he lost the feathers. Problem solved. Why can’t we just go home? Menace was fine. No, better than fine, he was perfect. She rubbed the top of his head, and the pigeon cooed and leaned into it. The most perfect little bird in the whole world.

“Go ahead, Diamond,” Spoiled softly said.

This whole thing smelled rotten. A trick. A scam. To what end, Diamond couldn’t tell, but everypony else except Menace and her seemed to be in on it. With the trap sprung, however, she had nowhere else to go.

Diamond sighed hard. That made Fluttershy smile another one of her sweet little encouragement smiles. Diamond Tiara kind of wanted to sock her in the mouth. “Well, his neck…” She motioned to Menace’s head as it slowly twisted backwards. “It does that a lot.”

Fluttershy nodded, running her feathers down the bird’s neck and down his sides. “Torticollis. Ponies also call it ‘wry neck’ or ‘stargazer syndrome’ because their heads are staring up all the time. Eggwina had it a few years ago.” She examined the vet records. “Menace has had it a long time… I think it might be hereditary? You should ask Doctor Fauna to be sure.”

Diamond Tiara flattened her ears. They could have gone to Fauna in the first place if Spoiled didn’t want to be cheap.

“It doesn’t seem to impair him too much,” Fluttershy continued, “but it can make birds fly funny sometimes.”

Which explained why Dainty Dove left him out of the wedding flights and the breeding roster. No wonder she’d been so ready to ditch him. “Right. So, if he’s born that way, that means it’s just how he is. He’s. Not. Sick.” Diamond tossed a defiant glare toward the couch.

Spoiled just stared back at her calmly—or… sadly? No. Calmly. Spoiled Rich got sour, never sad.

Fluttershy’s wingtips threaded along Menace’s ribs and sides. “Excuse me, but can you please tell me when you ate last?”

The pigeon cooed.

“Job time?” At Fluttershy’s signal, the white rabbit lifted a plate of safflower seeds. “So that would be yesterday?” She glanced up for a quick confirmation from Spoiled. “Gosh, a whole day without any nice seeds or oats or anything? You must be pretty hungry.” Fluttershy nudged the plate of seeds closer.

Menace’s head sunk into his shoulders.

“You could, but I really think it would be better if you ate it now.”

A short coo.

Fluttershy frowned. “I never said I was the boss of you. I just think it might make Diamond Tiara happy if you ate a little bit.”

The seeds rolled through Menace’s toes as he spread them around the plate. He peered at Diamond, who nodded and smiled encouragingly, then tilted his head at the safflower seeds. Menace righted his neck to peck at the plate. The seeds reached his beak this time, but he only swallowed a couple.

Still, better than nothing, right? Diamond smiled again and patted him for a good try. “He drank some water yesterday when I gave him a bath.” But had he drank since then? Diamond couldn’t remember; she hadn’t looked at the water dish when they left.

Another frown from Fluttershy (she needed to quit doing that before she got wrinkles). “I’m sorry—did you say you gave him a bath? As in, you hoofwashed him?”

“Technically, our maid gave him a bath.” Fluttershy’s stare prickled the hair on Diamond’s neck. “Uh. Are baths bad?”

“Not… exactly, but it’s a little strange. Doves and pigeons like to stay nice and clean, so they usually bathe themselves.”

Diamond scratched under her bird’s chin, watching his neck stretch upwards to meet her. “Menace is already used to the high life and didn’t want to wash in a boring old candy dish, so we did it for him. He’s also been kinda tired ever since he fell in the wedding cake.”

Both of Fluttershy’s ears flew up. Apparently, they’d forgotten to mention the cake. Whups. Maybe Diamond should have led with that instead.

“Yeah, that’s kinda why he needed a bath.”

Fluttershy hummed at that, leaning back to sit on her haunches while she stroked her chin. After a few seconds of thought, she asked what sort of cake it had been.

“Red velvet layered with chocolate truffle.” A bit of color drained from Spoiled’s face. Her eyes pinched shut with a pained little groan. “It cost nine thousand eight hundred and twenty-seven bits, and took three days to bake.”

Squinting, Fluttershy mouthed the word ‘chocolate’ to herself and turned to Menace. “Alright, this is very important: Did you eat any of it?”

Menace cooed and blinked at her. He didn’t seem to understand.

“Oh, I see. In that case, what do you remember?” Fluttershy folded her hooves on the table and leaned forward while she listened to the series of interconnected coos, burbles, chuffs. She only interrupted him once. “Where did you see him?”

Menace tried to use his foot to point at the curtains in the corner and ended up almost falling on his face. Fluttershy’s tail caught him before his beak met the woodgrain.

“I see,” Fluttershy said slowly. “I’d like to hear that again, please: What happened when you went to fight the parakeet in the window?” For reference, she pointed at her own window. “That’s what we ponies call the openings too small to be doors.”

Menace turned—though it devolved into another twirling cycle for a moment—and pointed a toe at Diamond. He gave a weaker little coo.

“Yes, that’s all. Thank you, you’ve been very helpful. You can go back for some rest, if you want.” Fluttershy watched him trot back into the basket, helped him settle, and closed the lid.

With care, Diamond eased the basket right-side up. “So?”

“It sounds like he hit a window. Menace must have fallen into the cake from there and knocked himself out, poor little guy. Oh—please don’t tell him I called him that.” Covering her mouth with her feathers, Fluttershy leaned forward and whispered, “He’s awfully concerned about his… um… ‘street cred.’ What happened after you found him?”

“Not much.” If one didn’t count that dumb circus of a pigeon custody battle, anyway. Diamond covered the broad strokes of the last forty-eight hours: how she found Menace sleeping under a table and he didn’t want to move for a while, the way he preferred riding on her head to walking or flying, and how he still liked to flap around and attack stuff. Mostly Randolph.

“I see.” That little frown of Fluttershy’s was getting real old real fast.

None of that stuff had seemed all that bad when it happened, but saying it out loud, hearing it pile up… Diamond swallowed hard. “But he bounced right back, Fluttershy! He wanted to fight every single bird in the cottage, you saw him. Look what he did to his travel basket. A sick bird couldn’t do all of that. I mean, I know he’s got weird fits sometimes and his neck does that… that ‘tortoiseitus’ thing, but it always wears off.”

A silent exchange flashed between the adults. Fluttershy settled beside her, so close that her mane dripped over Diamond’s withers in thin pink waterfalls. “Menace has a concussion.”

“Oh. You mean that’s all? Just a concussion?” Diamond’s rattling chuckle sounded better than it felt. “I got one of those when I fell off the slide last year and didn’t even have to miss school.” At best, the concussion made for a decent excuse for the C-plus on the geology test she’d tried to skip.

Fluttershy shook her head. “Windows are huge compared to a little bird’s skull, and he hit it harder and faster than you hit the ground. Three stories is a long way to fall, even with a cake to catch you, and pigeons aren’t built as tough as an earth pony.”

Diamond squinted hard.

“Um—not that Menace isn’t tough, but bird bones are different than ours. Sometimes a bird can hit a window, shake it off in a few days, and be fine.” A gust of summer air rolled through the cottage to tousle Fluttershy’s mane. Her windows didn’t have glass at all, only shutters and curtains. “And sometimes…”

“Sometimes what?”

“Sometimes they don’t make it.” Fluttershy tilted her chin towards Menace’s basket. “I don’t know if this is one of those times or not—”

Diamond glared. “It’s not.”

The stare didn’t break, though Fluttershy’s gaze softened. Her left wing rose over Diamond’s withers, but stopped in mid-air when Diamond tensed and shifted away. The wing went back into place.

Good. If Fluttershy had dared to do it, Diamond would have snatched Menace’s basket and walked home. She didn’t need hugs, she didn’t need pats on the shoulder or sympathetic sighs, and Diamond Tiara ABSOLUTELY did not need that stupid, stupid look on Fluttershy’s face—all gentle and sad and pitying. Who the hay did she think she was talking to? The Little Match-colt or some garbage?

A real animal doctor wouldn’t treat ponies this way. A REAL doctor would have already told them how to get Menace to feel better, given them some vitamins or whatever, and let them leave. Diamond felt her face growing hot. This rotten ugly cottage needed an air conditioner and smelled like week-old dog poop. Why couldn’t they go, already?

Fluttershy backed from Diamond’s personal bubble. “I’m sor—”

“No. I don’t care how sorry you are.” Sorry didn’t heal her bird. Sorry stood still and made excuses, and only losers made excuses. “Tell me how to fix it.”

“It’s… not exactly something we can fix.” Fluttershy must have caught the defiant glint in Diamond’s eye, because she followed with, “Doctor Fauna would tell you the same thing. Right now, the very best thing you can do for Menace is to keep him comfortable and relaxed.”

In a cobwebbed corner of her mind, Diamond remembered somepony (Dad, maybe?) saying something similar about Nana Impossibly. That had been the week Nana came home from the hospital all quiet and weird. Dad had wanted Diamond to sit and talk with her, even though Nana did nothing but sleep and stare at the wall.

A couple weeks after that…

Diamond shook herself back into the present. “Comfortable. Okay. How do I do that?”

“It will help him rest if you keep him someplace dark and quiet. A room without windows, maybe.”

“Right. I know just the place.”

The white rabbit bounded up to the table, carrying a shoebox of tiny crochet vests. They must have been the sweaters to keep Menace from plucking out his feathers. Fluttershy wouldn’t bother giving him clothes unless she thought he’d use them, right?

“Keep food nearby in case he gets hungry, and switch it out every day the way you normally would. I’d suggest a favorite food, but I’m not sure what he likes. I’ll give you one of my special feed mixes; it should help him grow new feathers. Menace has a cozy nest of his own, right?” Fluttershy smiled at Diamond’s nod. “Wonderful. Oh, and you should talk to him, too.”

Diamond hugged the shoebox close to herself. “Talk to him?”

“Well, I know I’d want my friends to keep me company if I wasn’t feeling well. I’m sure he’ll be glad to know his friend is there taking such good care of him and rooting for him.”

Under the table, the rabbit watched them with long droopy ears instead of minding its own business. If she was the filly she’d been six months ago, Diamond would have dropkicked him into a briar patch. For now, she opted for a sneer and a shooing motion. “So it’s lots of rest in a quiet dark place, and keep him company. Is there anything else I need to do?”

In the background, Spoiled sat up on the couch, tilting her ears in anticipation.

Fluttershy considered it, then shook her head. “Besides that, keep being a good friend to him in the meantime.”

“Fine. I’m gonna wait in the carriage until we leave.” Gathering her basket, Diamond stepped over the rabbit and headed for the door.

“Wait a second.” Spoiled Rich stiffened. She hopped off the couch, looking back and forth between her stepdaughter and the pegasus. “W-wait, but shouldn’t you—I mean, Fluttershy, you just can’t let her leave now without—”

The door shut behind Diamond before she heard whatever Fluttershy let her leave without. If she hadn’t mentioned it, it couldn’t have been that important. Some minor thing Spoiled blew out of proportion like always, probably.

Sad little eyes watched from the birdhouses and treetops. Nosy little jerks. No wonder Menace wanted to throw down with every bird here. When they came back for a checkup, Diamond ought to let him kick their feathery butts into the dirt. It’d serve them right.

Inside the basket, her pigeon dozed in the tangled handkerchief Diamond had given him for a blanket. As the sun warmed the wicker, he opened one eye and blinked at her.

“Hi, Menace. Are you hungry yet?”

He tucked his head under the kerchief. Guess not.

Fluttershy’s voice trailed through the open window. Not her regular meek mashed potato voice, either. It had bite to it. “I already told you, no, Mrs. Rich.”

Diamond paused on the walkway and glanced back towards the cottage.

“...because it’s not for absolute certain, and even if it was, I’m not going to do your—” Fluttershy bit the rest of the sentence off. She sighed hard. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped. I understand, but I think… I think this is something she should hear from somepony else. Somepony like a member of her family?”

A moment of silence. The door opened, and a somewhat tired-looking Spoiled appeared in the doorway. Her eyebrows lifted in mild surprise. Or annoyance. Or something. Diamond felt too tired to try and figure her out today. “What happened to waiting in the carriage?”

Diamond shrugged. “Changed my mind.”

“It’s hot out. Let’s get somewhere cool and decent before you get your coat sweaty.”

Nodding, Diamond climbed into the carriage. She hugged the basket close and settled against the window as the door closed. “Fluttershy’s house smells weird and gross. Let’s go to a real vet next time.”

“Agreed.” Spoiled adjusted her earrings and knocked the roof. “Home, Sparkleworks.”

The Rich panic room sustained luxury living for the modern pony through any natural, magical, biological, or economic disaster—money-back guarantee, void where prohibited. A secure and fully furnished living space located two feet below the Rich mansion, it had been built the year Mom moved out and Dad had the house remodeled. The original conception had been a guest suite, but a glut of Everfree monster attacks and Spoiled’s paranoia changed plans quick.

In four years, the room had only been used once (not counting the nights Diamond snuck down to play pinball) and might as well have been brand new. The place still smelled like Barnyard Bargains and Davenport’s Quills and Sofas had a baby together.

More importantly, the room had no windows, soundproof walls, a light dimmer, and zero hoof traffic.

“It’s like a nest box, but bigger,” Diamond told Menace. “Nopony but me will bother you, and I promise I won’t get too loud.”

The pigeon had rested in her tiara, watching while the house staff relocated his cage and Diamond replaced the newspaper with strips of soft (and disposably cheap) fleece. He seemed to approve.

New housing hadn’t improved his appetite, but Menace soon stopped shivering and watching his airspace as if a hawk might swoop on him. He stayed calm through the afternoon and didn’t fall over quite as often. That was something at least, but it’d be better if he’d eat his dinner for once.

Maybe showing him all the trophies and crowns in the War Room hadn’t been such a good idea. Menace II Society had a pedigree; as a fancy breed, he must have been to at least one show. His parents won tons of prizes; that could be hard to live up to.

“You don’t need to starve yourself to win trophies,” Diamond had told him. “In fact, I don’t care if you never go to shows or win any trophies at all. We both know you’re perfect; you don’t need to prove it.”

That had been Sunday afternoon. Later that night, Dad came down to the panic room to eat dinner since Diamond didn’t want to go up to the dining room. Menace perched on the table and seemed to enjoy watching them eat, though he denied Diamond’s offer of oats from her plate.

After dinner, Dad wished Menace well, wished Spoiled good luck, and kissed Diamond on the cheek before he caught the balloon to Manehattan. Hopefully, the Manehattan branch manager would get canned for screwing up so bad that he dragged Dad away in the middle of his vacation.

On Monday morning, Diamond Tiara woke up before Spoiled’s alarm went off, skipped breakfast, and took the shortcut to the Silver house.

She rang the doorbell no less than twelve times in five seconds. Diamond jammed her face through the door the second it cracked open. “Hi, can you get this to Silver Spoon’s granddad’s house, please? I can pay for a telegram or maybe we can teleport it or whatever?”

A lamp bloomed to life, lighting the dim foyer. Mr. Silver Laurel’s baggy eyes blinked at her very slowly. “Diamond Tiara. It is four-thirty in the morning.”

“So?”

Earth ponies didn’t know how to crush a skull using only the power of their minds, but you wouldn’t know it from Mr. Silver’s face. “Nothing is open for another three hours. Because it is four. In the morning.”

“Oh. Well, can you send it when they’re open?” Diamond peeked into the dark house, searching for a familiar horned silhouette. “Actually, could your butler teleport it there? He knows how to do that, right?”

“He can, but Brass Tacks has accompanied Silver Spoon to the family manor.” Mr. Silver pulled his monocle from his pajama pocket, peering at Diamond’s letter. “I’ll address and send it, of course, but I can’t guarantee when she’ll get it. There’s a fair chance they’re not even home.”

“Okay, but like—I need Silvie to come back to Ponyville. Like, now. Right now.”

The expression on Mr. Silver’s face told her that would be quite impossible, and to even ask was more than a little selfish. Too late, Diamond remembered that Silvie’s dad didn’t like her very much. If she were being a hundred percent honest, Diamond didn’t really blame him.

“I’m sorry I woke you up so early.” Even though he probably would have been awake in like a half-hour anyway. What kind of slacker woke up later than five? “If she can’t come back, is there some way I can talk to her today? A scrying glass or a telephone or something?” Telephones still hadn’t left Manehattan’s stock district, but some small sectors of the wealthy had them for novelty’s sake.

“Diamond Tiara—”

“Please, Mr. Silver! I really, REALLY need to talk to Silver Spoon.” Nopony managed a crisis the way she could. Silvie would keep her cool and… do something. Diamond didn’t know what yet, but that was the whole point of talking in the first place, right? If nothing else, she’d have her right-hoof mare. She’d have somepony to talk to.

“Is it an emergency?” Mr. Silver held up a hoof. “Not a student council problem or a beauty pageant. I mean a real emergency.”

“Um.” YES. “…k-kinda? Yes. Maybe—I dunno… I got a new pet and…” Diamond stamped her hoof. Why did ponies need to make everything such a pain? “Can you send it or not?”

Mr. Silver ran a hoof through his pale mane and smacked his lips. “Stay there. I’ll be right back.” In a few moments, he returned with a silver saucer, one of Silver Spoon’s kettles, and a cauldron the size of a grapefruit. “I can try—try, Diamond—to set up a scrying session, but no promises.”

“I’ll take whatever I can get.” Diamond pulled a folded paper from the cauldron. “Are these the instructions?”

“Follow them best as you can, then wait. She’ll contact you if—IF—she can.”

“Thanks, Mr. Silver, I owe you.” Literally, if the Silvers’ reputation for collecting favors held water. It’d be worth it, though.

Most Mondays, Spoiled Rich visited the spa from nine to noon. When Sugarcube Corner opened, Diamond camped out nursing a breakfast of deluxe milkshakes and a banana split until nine rolled around. Mr. Cake was nice enough to give her a bag of broken ice cream cone for Menace to try. He didn’t even add it to her tab.

Diamond Tiara snuck home just as the clock struck ten.

Twitching her ears, she checked the house for signs of life: nothing but Randolph polishing the floor. She checked her parents’ room: zilch. Ditto the dining room, greenhouse, living room, and the rest of her stepmom’s usual haunts. Good. Scrying supplies in hoof, Diamond grabbed an old Power Ponies comic to read to Menace and headed down to the panic room.

She froze mid-stair.

Spoiled Rich sat on a lounge couch in the center of the panic room. A silk house robe hung from her shoulders, and without mousse, her mane draped in limp purple ringlets. She’d never left the house. Menace lay on the carpet beside his cage, wearing one of his new sweater vests.

“Sit down, Diamond. We need to talk.”