“So, what do you think about it?” Pendragon asked it of the Unicorn mare across from him. The mare, his editor, shuffled the stack of papers in front of her, riffling through them one last time. They were sitting outside a local cafe out towards the outskirts of Canterlot. He had been silent for a long time as she looked through the last set of fixes and changes.
“I think it’s finally ready to publish.” She seemed to glance at scenes at random.
“Really?” Pendragon smiled. It’s been months and months of writing and re-writing, nearly countless nights spent up late working on it.
“Oh yes, it’s quite good for a debut novel. I’ll send it over to the publisher today. Well done, Pendragon .”
“Thank you! Thank you!” He had to restrain himself from leaping over the table to give her a hug. That would have been profoundly unprofessional, so instead, he settled for sipping his hot chocolate; it didn’t even matter to him it was still too hot to really taste. “What’s next then, book signing?”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” She laughed a bit. “We don’t even have a release date yet. There are still some last minute details we need to work out, pick a cover, and the like. Even then it will take a while to get all the copies printed out and delivered to all the sellers. We’re still looking at a few more weeks at least until you see it on the shelves.”
“Oh…”
“Don’t get so downhearted. You’re past the hard part now. I’ll have those last bits of paperwork sent to you, and then you’re pretty much done. As far as you are concerned, it’s all on autopilot now. Take a break, catch your breath, then start on something new.”
“New? Already?”
“Well, sure. I say new, but it can be a sequel if you want. I’m sure you have a lot of stories to tell.”
“I’ll… have to think about it.”
“As for me, I should get this going down the pipeline. I’ll see you again.” She left the table, Pendragon 's manuscript lifted from the table and slipped into her bag. A quick wave, and then she’d gone down the street and around the corner. Pendragon sat there, letting his chocolate grow cold as he pondered what to do now.
It was a strange sensation. He was done.
Done.
The thought rolled and bounced in his mind. He had spent the whole of his life the last few months wholly engrossed in his work, now there was next to nothing left to do. It was loose in the world, out of his hooves. So now the adventure was over.
He finished his drink, now a bit chilly, and left the cafe behind. The sun was bright overhead, and the other ponies out and about their business were cheerful. But Pendragon was a bit lost despite the beautiful weather. At first, he was only metaphorically lost, but soon enough he found himself physically so. Then again, it’s hard to really be lost in Canterlot for long. One can see the palace from pretty much anywhere, and barring that, you can simply look up to see the mountain to find your bearings.
Today he found the palace easily, as his wanderings brought him almost to the gate. It would not be the first time he has ended up here, staring at the palace. Idly he let his mind wander, wishing he could spend time inside with the princesses. This selfish desire was, of course, an old dream of his. It had long since stopped bothering him that he was merely an Earth pony without connections, the public tour was a close to greatness as he would ever get. He knew he would never get to go inside, not as anything more than a tourist.
“Halt, who goes there?” A familiar voice commanded him, and he turned to see Picket Nihilist approaching. The grey Pegasus in the royal guard armor had a smile on his face as he patrolled around the walls.
“Hello, Picket. It’s still not funny to say that every time you see me.” Pendragon rolled his eyes.
“Well, it is my job.” His Pegasus buddy stepped up beside him, pausing for a moment on his patrol. “So what are you doing out here anyway?”
“I was just thinking.”
“Isn’t that all you do?”
“In some sense, I guess that’s true.”
“Come on, patrol with me a bit, the captain will give me an earful if I stop for too long.”
“It’s really OK for me to come along?” Despite the question, Pendragon followed alongside.
“Oh no, look at the citizen walking along the street, he must obviously be a threat!” It was easy to hear the sarcasm in his voice. “The palace is plenty safe. It’s not like the guard has ever really stopped anything big.”
“I still don’t get why you bothered to join if you have such a low opinion of them.”
“Eh, it’s a living.” Picket shrugged. “Besides, the mares love a stallion in armor.” He smirked.
“One of these days you need to stop playing around. You’ll end up with a reputation.”
“I could say the same about you.” The smirk faded. “Seriously, you spend so much time out here pining after the impossible the other guards are starting to recognize you on sight from a block and a half away by the cloud you bring with you.”
“I do not 'pine.'”
“Could have fooled me.” Now it was Picket’s turn to roll his eyes. “But enough about that. How’s the writing been going.”
“I just met with my editor. She’s sending it out for publishing.”
“Seriously? Gratz.” He held up a hoof for Pendragon to bump. The Earth pony met the gesture. “Is it any good?”
“I think so. Of course, I’m a bit biased. The story follows this guy who-”
“Whoa, wait. I’m gonna have to stop you there.”
“Hey, you asked!”
“No, I mean physically.” Pendragon blinked and looked around. He had followed the armored Pegasus right to one of the back gates restricted for deliveries and guards. “I know you’re alright, and the others all know you’re my bud, but protocol won’t let me let you in.”
“Oh, right. You know, for someone so laid back you sure do follow procedure closely.”
“It’s just easier to not stick out, the tall flower gets chewed off first.” Picket shrugged again. “Sorry, but I’ve got to keep moving. Send me a copy once it’s out, I’d love to read it.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that.” The guard saluted Pendragon quickly with one wing, only half in jest, and then continued on his patrol route alone.
“Sign here.” The mailpony held out a scroll for him. Pendragon took the quill and scrawled where marked, his signature only a bit more like a scribble than usual due to his excitement. The mailpony inspected his form one more time and then nodded. “Yup, that’s all I need from ya. Have a good day.”
“Thank you!” Pendragon called out as the mailpony left before turning his attention to the box. “It’s here!” He tore through the packaging with abandon to get at the goods inside. A dozen hard-bound books with dark blue covers bearing his own name meets him once he’s gotten through. He pulled one such novel out of the package and held it close, rolling onto his back and holding it above himself like a trophy. All those many months of writing and rewriting all felt so worth it at that moment. It’s one thing to have finished it, it’s one thing to say it’s ready, and it’s quite another to hold the completed product in your hooves.
“Something wrong, Pendragon?” He looked up and found a grouchy looking Earth pony stallion entering the room.
“It’s here, Dad! Look!” Pendragon held out the book in his arm for his father to see as he stood back up. The older stallion glared at it for a moment, reading the title with a disinterested eye. Then his gaze slid to the open box by the door and frowned slightly.
“How much did this cost?”
“Nothing. In fact, I get a few bits every time one is sold off the shelf.”
“Then it wasn’t a waste of time after all.”
“Dad, it’s not about the money.” Pendragon sighed, they’ve had this conversation before.
“Maybe it should be, then you wouldn’t still be living with your parents.”
“I barely make over minimum wage, and Canterlot is expensive. You know full well that I can’t afford to live out on my own.”
“Enough.” Pendragon's father snapped. “I have a meeting to get to.” The stallion shoved the box of books out of the way with a hoof and continued out onto the street, leaving Pendragon behind. He watched as his father walked away, his feelings unsaid. There wasn’t much point, everything had been said before and probably would be again.
“Don’t let him get to you.” He glanced back to see his mother stepping up beside him. He hadn’t heard her walk in the foyer. One of the books from the package was lifted in her aura, it floated alongside her as she smiled at him. “You know he just wants what he thinks is best for you.”
“It might be nice if he would let me make that determination.”
“You know what he would say.”
“I’ve heard the story a hundred times. If he hadn’t obsessed so much over money he would still be stuck on that rock farm, he never would have made it to the capitol or met you. It’s not like he would ever let me forget it. So yes, I understand it from his point of view. I think.”
“If it makes you feel any better, you don’t have to doubt if I will read it.” She tapped her horn against the book and smiled again. “Take pride in your accomplishment, it’s well earned, no matter what your father thinks.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Again, Pendragon held the book close. “I’m going out to Flynn’s, just as soon as I stash this in my room.”
“Actually…” She gently stopped him from leaving. “I think I know a better place for it.” She took the novel from him led him to the living room and then over to the fireplace, and set the novel atop the mantle. It set into place right in the middle, where there was a conspicuously book sized absence between some photographs just waiting to be filled. “Don’t you think that’s a fine place to keep it?”
“It’s perfect.” He gave his mother a deep hug. “Thank you.”
It wasn’t long before Pendragon found himself outside his favorite bookstore, Famous Flynn Flicker’s Fantastic Fictions. He had a few of his novels in his saddlebag. In the front window, he found the proprietor, Flynn Flicker himself, setting up a small stack of six books on a stand. Pendragon was pleased to see that they were his new novel. It didn’t bother him the stack was small, and off to the side, there was no way any business would set up a complete unknown front and center. He was plenty happy enough to see it there in the window at all.
He tapped on the window and smiled at the yellow Unicorn inside. Flynn set the last book atop the stack where the front cover could be seen from outside and waved back. The little bell rang when Pendragon opened the door and Flynn met him from behind the counter.
“I told you, you could do it.”
“That you did. And thank you, for putting up my story in the front window.”
“That was the promise, wasn’t it? You finally write it, and I’ll sell it.”
“As much as I appreciate you putting the books up front, you do know the release date is set for next week right? The publisher might get angry if you sell ahead of time.”
“No one said I couldn’t do a friend a favor, a little bit of early exposure can’t hurt. If anyone complains, I’ll say there was a miscommunication. What are you up to now? Looking for any new reads?”
“Not at this time.” Pendragon laughed. “I’m still a bit too giddy for reading. I was just making sure you got a copy for yourself.”
“Look around, I’ve got copies of everything.” Flynn scoffed and waved a hoof at all the shelves.
“I meant for you. To read.”
“That would bite into my profits, I don’t read my stock.”
“Then it’s a good thing I brought some extras of my own.” Pendragon reached back to his bag to pull out one of his own copies, passing it to the stallion behind the counter.
“Uh, thanks?” The gesture seemed to bewilder the Unicorn, as he stared blankly at it. The sight of a book handed to him, without needing to be bought, seemed to be utterly foreign to Pendragon's friend.
“When you’re done, let me know what you think about it.” He waved again at the Unicorn and headed out, the bell singing as he opened the door. Pendragon started down the street and glanced at the stack of his novels, blinking when he counted seven books in the stack. Odd, he must have miscounted before. Ah well. With a bit of bounce in his step, he left Flynn’s bookshop behind.
If he had been the musical type, he would have sung as he made his way through the city. He could imagine jumping off benches and spinning around lampposts as his voice rings out in joy, passersby joining in to add their voices to his chorus. But he is not the musical type, having neither the voice nor physical ability for such entertainment.
His next stop was the palace. Well, the guard post next to the palace. Picket was nowhere to be found, but the other guards recognized him and told him they would deliver one of the novels to Picket when they saw him next. Pendragon thanked them and turned back into the city, not wanting to stay and daydream for once.
He quickened his pace, wanting to hand out his other copies as soon as he could. Who should he go to next? Picket and Flynn both had one now. His father probably wouldn’t read it at all, and his mother already took one. His editor already had one and had read it over a dozen or so times by this point. There were all his coworkers still, but he didn’t get along with most of them. That is when it struck him that he didn’t have anyone else to give one of his books too. The realization hit him like a hammer to the face.
He stood stock still in the middle of the street for a moment, trying to process. There was still plenty of room for others to go around him, and they ignored him. Pendragon had never thought of himself as lonely before. Did he really have so few friends? Were they really friends at all? Indeed, Picket was, but he had never really hung out with Flynn anywhere but at his bookshop. His relationship with his editor was purely professional.
Shaken, Pendragon continued along the street. Where to go, if there was nowhere to be? His path led him to the edge of the city, quite literally. He stood at the railing by the cliffside, looking out over the peaceful landscape below. On most days you could see the town of Ponyville, on a particularly clear one you can see so much farther. Today, although the weather was quite clear, he couldn’t see past his own hoof.
“Excuse me, Mr. Praeterium?” A quiet voice, full of hesitation, startled him out of his reverie. He wiped his eyes clear before turning to face the voice’s origin. It was a cream colored Unicorn mare with a sky blue mane, standing just a few steps away. With one hoof behind her other forelimb and her mane just a tad curly, she was pretty cute. Somehow, she seemed familiar to him.
“Yes, that’s me. Do you need something?”
“You’re a writer, aren’t you?”
“How did you know that?”
“I’ve seen you a bunch of times at the cafe.” Ah, and now he can place her. She’s a waitress at the cafe, that’s why she seemed so familiar. “And I overheard you talking with that older mare about a story you were working on.” She must have overheard his name as he conversed with his agent. “I was wondering if I could get some advice.”
“Advice? On what?”
“Well, I’ve been doing some writing of my own, and I wanted somepony who knew what they were doing to take a look at it. I don’t suppose you would be willing?”
“That’s… I don’t know what to say. Thank you, for the vote of confidence, but I might not be the best pony to ask. I mean, I’ve only just been published for the first time…”
“You’re published?!” She perked up and smiled as she interrupted me. “Even better! I thought it was just something you were interested in. Now I know you can help!”
“I’m flattered, really I am. But I don’t even know your name.”
“You… don’t?” For an instant, she seemed confused, and then she blushed nearly scarlet. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I forgot to introduce myself! My name is Dainty Dawn.” She bounced a little as she spoke.
“Pendragon.” He nodded.
“I’m really sorry about that, you’ve been a regular at the cafe for so long I just sort of assumed you had read my name tag at one point or another.”
“Dainty, I’m sorry, but I don’t really think I can help.” Her ears drooped, and her smile slowly faded. “I’ve never actually taught how to write to anypony before. My book isn’t even released yet, I don’t know how well I stack up next to all the other authors. I think you should probably find another tutor.”
“Oh… I’m sorry I bothered you.” She turned and left, strolling away with her head hanging low. Pendragon sighed, and then looked down at his saddlebag. He still had more copies of his novel. His previous thoughts came back to him, and he shuddered. He had just realized how few friends he had, and here was a mare literally asking to spend time with him. A cute one no less, and he was pushing her away? What was he thinking?
“Dainty. Wait.” He trotted up beside her before she could get too far away. “I’m sorry about that. I’ll do it, on one condition.”
“Condition?”
“If you read mine, then I’ll read yours.” He reached back and pulled out a novel to present to her. “Does that seem fair?” She brightened immediately.
“Absolutely.”
“So, what do you think?” He set the manuscript on the table between them. Dainty Dawn grinned towards him, head resting on her clasped hooves before her. They were sitting out in the park, at one of the picnic tables. Pendragon took a moment to consider and organize his thoughts. Her story was good. Not just good, really good.
“First off, you are in dire need of a proofreader. Your spelling and grammar are atrocious.” Her grin faded. “Don’t feel so bad.” He hurried to explain. “When I first started, I was just as bad. It’s called a rough draft for a reason.”
“OK, I guess that’s fair. But I still want to know what you think of it.”
“It’s… alright. Although I question some of the choices you made, and in a few places I was a bit lost as to what was going on. But it’s pretty solid if you can work out the kinks. It shows a lot of promise.”
“You really think so?” She smiled again, her mane bouncing just slightly as she giggled.
“That’s my top level opinion. So how did you come up with the basic story?”
“Oh, when I was a filly I would play with dolls and pretend it was all a story. And recently I thought it might be fun to write all those stories down.”
“Interesting. We can go into more detail about what I thought about your story after you’ve held up your side of the bargain.”
“Alright then.” She lifted her copy of his book from her own bag and dropped it onto the table next to her text. “I made notes.” Pendragon blinked, there were what looked like several dozen little scraps of paper sticking out of the book. Not even his editor made so many notes at once.
“That's… more feedback than I expected.”
“Personally, I thought it was a bit dark.”
“That was intentional.”
“It’s not my usual read. So maybe I’m not the best to ask about it. But there are a few things I didn’t get.” She flips the book open to a point about a fifth of the way through. “At the end, your hero said he accidentally created the villain, but when I go look at the scene where that’s supposed to happen, I couldn’t figure out where it happened.”
“It was subtle, and the point of view character hadn’t seen that happen.”
“If you say so. Then right as they were facing the villain, all the dead characters just suddenly appeared and gave the hero a power boost? They displayed no ability to do anything like that through the whole story! It came out of nowhere and was completely unexplained!”
“It’s called a Deus Ex Machina.”
“There’s a word for it? Of course, there is.”
“Would you rather I have had the hero just win outright? By the time of that sequence he was so outmatched there was no other way for him to win on his own.”
“You could have had the other character, the one with the actual connection to the dead ones, take that power instead. Or even just let the bad guy win.”
“…It was supposed to be metaphorical.”
“And your hero, it’s almost like you set this whole story up just so you could pile on the accolades for him, to show everyone how powerful he was. Everything that happened either was there to make him look better or make us feel sorry for him. We didn’t get to see any of the other characters do anything special.”
“The story was about him, not about them. Of course, he was taking focus.”
“I didn’t read it that way at all.” She shrugged. “But then again, maybe I just don’t know what I’m talking about.” Her tone told Pendragon that he had somehow pushed something too far. With a huff, she snatched her story off the table and made to leave.
“Dainty.” He called after her. Then he glanced down at the book on the table, stuffed full of notes. It would have to wait. “Don’t leave.” Obligingly, she stopped, and the wind tossed her mane about her face. “I didn’t mean to be so defensive. It’s just… I spent so long working on it, it’s a little hard to hear it torn apart. I’m sorry if I offended you.”
“No, I’m the one who should be sorry. Your story is just outside my comfort zone. I shouldn’t have been so picky.”
“You were just doing what I asked. I’ll have to get used to criticism eventually. It was all I asked of you, I shouldn’t get angry when you give an honest opinion. Thank you.” Slowly she came back to the table. “Even considering that it not your usual fare, did you like it?” silence lingered between the two of them for few moments.
“Honestly? No.” Even braced for it the shock still knocked the air out of Pendragon's lungs.
“Well…” He sighed. “At least you read it.” When he looked down at his hoof, he found it shaking as he thought about her story again. It was good. Not just good, really good. Not just really good, it was better than his.
Pendragon wandered out to Flynn’s and was shocked to find a crowd outside. The herd was so thick he had to push through far enough to even see the window. It had been thoroughly cleaned out, and where the previous stacks had been, there was now a single display. A huge poster dominated the window depicting a sizeable purple book, emblazoned with the star of the Princess of Friendship on its cover.
Get it here!*
The Journal of Friendship!
Hoof written by Princess Twilight Sparkle and her closest friends!
*while supplies last.
He looked again at the crowd, everypony was blabbering about the book, some already had a copy of their own. A few of them complained to him when he tried to push his way into the bookshop, telling him to get back to the end of the line. He was able to force his way inside anyways, he wasn’t interested in the journal.
“Flynn!”
“Thank you, come again.” The cash register chimed. “Hey Pendragon, I’m a bit busy, no time to chat.”
“You took down my book?!”
“Of course I did! Thank you, come again.” Chime. “Look at this crowd! I’ve never seen a book sell out this fast. I’ve had to order more copies twice already. Thank you, come again.” Chime.
“What about my book?”
“It’s right there, in the new releases. Thank you, come again.” Chime. Flynn waved a hoof towards the display. Pendragon turned, colliding with the pony behind him. He apologized as he struggled through the crowd. The new release stand was surrounded, everypony trying to reach one of the few copies of the journal still left. When Pendragon jumped in place, he could see the stand was nearly empty, most of the space dedicated to the Journal. He didn’t see his novel. The register continued to chime fairly regularly.
Pendragon tried to get back to the counter to talk to Flynn, but the crowd was having none of it. So he pushed his way to the back of the shop, which was thankfully empty, and browsed for a while until the crowd died down.
“All right, that’s all I’ve got!” Flynn had to shout to be heard. “We’re now sold out of the journal! I’ll have more in stock tomorrow!” The crowd moaned and murmured. “Please, feel free to look around, we have plenty of other books and novels for you to enjoy.” A few of the excited ponies did, in fact, start to look around, but most filtered back onto the street as the yellow Unicorn slapped his sold-out sign over the display in the front window.
With the horde dispersed Pendragon was finally able to get back to the new release stand. The shelf was in disarray, books and novels tossed to the floor as the crowd had jostled it. Standing here, he might as well be helpful, and he started to pick up the spilled tomes. He finally found two copies of his own story at the far end of the stand, once he picked them off the floor anyway. One of them had been stepped on and now had its front cover half torn off.
“Are those the only ones left?” He jerked his head towards his books as he returned to the counter to finally have a chance to talk to Flynn.
“No, those are just the ones I left on the stand. The rest are in the back room.”
“So this Journal forced you to taken them out of the window?”
“What? No. I took it down last week.”
“But… it’s only been out three weeks!”
“And in the time I had it up in the window, I sold a grand total of two copies.” Only two? Pendragon couldn’t speak. “I’m running a business here, Pendragon. If it doesn’t sell, it has to go on the shelf.”
“What…” He coughed to clear his throat of the lump that was forming there. “What about you? Did you read it?”
“Pendragon… look.” The Unicorn rubbed at his temple. “I’ve got five thousand eight hundred sixty-two unique books in here. If I even tried to read them all, I’d never get anything done.”
“I’m not asking you to read all of them, just mine.”
“And I’ve got four other authors who are regular customers. Two of them come out with new books every few months. I don’t play favorites with them either.”
“But…”
“Pendragon, if it makes you feel better, I’ll consider it.” Flynn put a supportive hoof on his shoulder. “But it will have to wait until the rush of the Journal simmers down at the very least.”
“All right… thanks.” Sullenly Pendragon turned and left.
“Take care of yourself.” He gave Flynn a half-hearted wave as the bell rang out and the door closed.
He never expected his story to sell out like hotcakes. But… two? He was still waiting for his first sales report from the publisher. Surely his story had sold more than that. A dark thought entered his mind, in the timespan of the conversation he had with Flynn, the Princess’s journal had sold something like three times as many copies in this one shop alone than he had in weeks. He blinked and looked around.
The purple cover of the Friendship journal greeted him nearly everywhere. It wouldn’t be fair to blame it for the poor reception of his story, the two had nothing to do with each other, and the Princess was far more well known than he ever would be. That didn’t mean it felt any better to see the magic star on every book he could see and in the bags of so many ponies.
He could only barely see where he was going, letting his hooves follow familiar paths as they would. So he wasn’t surprised when he heard an equally familiar happy voice call to him.
“Halt! Who goes there?” Pendragon just sighed and stopped in his tracks. “Whoa. Pendragon, what’s wrong?” Picket stepped up to him, their usual joke greeting forgotten. “You look awful.” The grey Pegasus wasn’t wearing his armor.
“It’s… not going well these days.” He was tempted to just drop to his haunches right there in the middle of the street.
“Come on, over here.” Fortunately, Picket wasn’t going to let him fall apart out in the open. Pendragon allowed himself to be led over to the palace wall, from here they were in the shadow and the shade granted some small measure of privacy. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“My book isn’t doing so well.”
“Bad reviews?” Pendragon hadn’t even thought about a professional review and the hole where one should have been suddenly opened up beneath him. “Whoa!” Picket had to stabilize him with a wing before he fell over. “Is it really that bad?”
“Basically, no one has read it. I still have no idea if anypony thinks it’s any good.” He sighed, unwilling to take his eyes off the stone street. “At least I can trust you to have read it.” Picket didn’t respond, and his uncharacteristic silence shot Pendragon through with ice. “You… have read it, haven’t you?”
“About that…” He, at last, pulled his eyes off the road. Picket was more uncomfortable than he had ever seen the easygoing Pegasus. “I’m sorry! It’s right next to my bunk. I swear, I’ll get to it. It’s just that everything’s been getting in the way. What with the new guards coming on the force who need to be shown the ropes, and the test, and the promotion, it just got lost in all the stuff I had to do.”
“…What promotion?”
“It turns out that by keeping my head down and following the rules I was doing a better job than most of the other guards. So they promoted me.” Pendragon tried to smile for his friend. At least someone’s life was going well. “My new position has more responsibilities, but it also came with a pay raise and some more time off.”
“Good for you.”
“I was going out to celebrate when I ran into you.”
“Go on then, go have fun. I’ll just… go home.”
“Oh no, not today you aren’t. I’m dragging you to some fun whether you like it or not. You could use a good time. Maybe you’ll meet some cutie and hit it off.” Dainty Dawn’s face flashed in his thoughts. He had her on the mind often as of late. They had spent quite a few hours talking about her story and writing in general. If nothing else her smile brought a warmth to his heart.
“Maybe you’re right.”
“There’s the spirit.” Although it took him some time and some more prodding, Picket was able to drag Pendragon out to a local dance club. It was still early, and the club was lightly populated, so they had their pick of the available booths. It was still a while longer before the party really got started, and the club filled up. The off-white Unicorn with purple shades who was DJ-ing tonight got the music going, and the dance floor rapidly filled up.
Picket had no trouble fitting in with the crowd, but Pendragon held back. At first, it was because he still didn’t feel like dancing, but after a while, the pounding beats and high volume gave him a headache. The flashing lights didn’t help with that. Everypony else was indeed having fun. He spotted Picket chatting up a couple of mares, and once he gestured in Pendragon's direction. A few minutes later Picket returned with a drink and set the glass on the table in front of Pendragon.
“Drink this, join the party.”
“What is it?” At first glance, it seemed to be water and ice, but judging from Picket’s behavior it most certainly wasn’t.
“Liquid courage, if you need it.”
“You’re really trying to get me drunk?”
“No, I’m trying to get you to have some fun. If the only way to do that is loosen you up a bit, then that’s what I’ll do.” Pendragon simply stared at the glass. “Don’t make me physically pick you up and drag you out onto the dance floor. Because those are the options.” Picket would do it too, and he had no doubt the stallion was strong enough to lift him. He wasn’t sure which he would find more humiliating, being drunk in public or being hauled bodily like that. He sighed and downed the drink all at once. It was nearly ice cold, and he couldn’t taste it. “Now, was that so hard?”
“I’m going to regret this later.”
“Maybe, maybe not. You won’t know until you give it a try.” Picket laughed and went back to the bar. Pendragon was still reluctant, his headache was only intensifying, although he didn’t feel any different.
It wasn’t long after that that one of the mares Picket had been talking to slipped up to him. He glanced back at Picket, who winked knowingly and saluted with his own drink. The mare asked him to dance, and at this point, he couldn’t find any good reason to say no. Being both drunk and hauled onto the stage would be even worse than either alone.
The DJ changed tracks, and Pendragon groaned as the music that picked up was a particular unfavorite of his. He could hear Picket laughing even across the dance floor. He was in too far to back out now. He was never much of a dancer, but the press of the herd, and whatever drink Picket had forced on him, made it impossible to not rock out.
His partner was not nearly as inhibited as he was, and she pressed up against him throughout his time out in the crowd. Whatever perfume she was wearing was undoubtedly intoxicating enough. Between the drink, her scent, and the energy in the group, he soon found he was enjoying himself, despite his earlier foul mood.
He managed three tracks before his headache grew to the point where he could no longer ignore it. Rubbing at his temple, he excused himself from the mare, she didn’t seem upset at his leaving, and made his way back to the booth where Picket was waiting.
“See, isn’t that better?”
“What did you give me? My head is murder.”
“Water.”
“That’s not funny.”
“No, seriously. You just needed a shot of confidence. All that fun I saw you having out there, that was real.”
“And the headache?” He let his head lie on the table, its cooling surface helped a bit.
“That, I can’t take credit for. Although, the music is a bit louder than usual. You seemed pretty into her, why not go talk to her?”
“I know the only reason she bothered to come over is because you asked her too.”
“So? All I can do there is give you a push. You have to take the reins yourself after that.”
“Thanks, but I’m not interested in picking up fillies in a dance bar.”
“Why not? It’s not like you’ve got an eye on somemare special.” Dainty Dawn’s face flashed again in his thoughts, and he smiled. “I saw that! You do have your eye on somepony.” Picket jabbed him lightly in the side. “Come clean, who is she?”
“Her name is-”
“Picket! I’m sorry I’m late!” He knew that mare’s voice.
“There you are! I was starting to worry.” Pendragon picked his head off the table in time to see the cream colored Unicorn kissing Picket. “Hey, so this is-”
“Dainty Dawn.”
“Oh, hello there, Pendragon! I didn’t see you.”
“You two know each other already?” Picket threw one wing over the mare as she sidled up closer to him.
“Yeah, we met a few weeks ago. He helps me with my writing.” Pendragon tried to say something, but he couldn’t find the words. “Are you alright? You don’t look well.” He now found it hard to breathe, everything got a bit blurry. Suddenly he wished that the drink had been something a bit more potent than water.
“Pendragon? What’s wrong?” He met his friend’s eye, and then the Pegasus understood. “Wait… it was her you were interested in?!” A lot more potent.
“Interested? You have feelings for me? Why didn’t you say anything?” Now it would have been nice if it were more than a single glass.
“Would it have mattered, if I had?”
“I’m… going to get us a couple of drinks…” Picket tried to extricate himself from the conversation with all the grace of a dragon.
“Pendragon…” Honestly, a whole bottle. “You’re nice.” Maybe two. “And very helpful. But, you’re my writing instructor. Just a friend.” The whole bar. “I’m sorry, but you just aren’t what I’m looking for.”
Everything moved in slow motion. The Unicorn and the Pegasus spun about each other, gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes as they danced. All around were friends and family, cheering and lifting the couple into the air. Silver confetti fell from above, little six-pointed stars that glittered in the light as they covered the floor like snow. The ballroom was decorated in white and pink for the wedding.
Pendragon watched from the corner, surrounded by a dismal black shadow and piles of blank pages. None of the other ponies even looked his way. Each of the pillars holding up the walls were made from stacks of books. He looked down at the floor, rectangular and blue.
“It would seem I was mistaken.” A voice he did not recognize. “I am sorry.” He didn’t even glance up when a pair of dark hooves entered view. “I have seen this dream thrice in as many nights, and had foolishly assumed it was hers.”
“It’s selfish. I know.” He pushed the papers around, looking for one in specific. “I can’t ask them to give up their happiness.”
“We are all allowed our dreams, you are free to wish for more.”
“Did I ask for too much?” He continued to dig through the empty pages, he didn’t have a quill or ink either. “I didn’t want accolades. I don’t need medals.” The walls come tumbling in, but the revelers are unaffected. Pendragon and his visitor find themselves flanked on all sides by an unruly pile of other author’s books.
“You do not need to let the exaltation of others eclipse your own achievement.”
“I never knew how much the approval of others meant to me.” He finally found what he was digging for, a single page with text on it. So he allowed himself to look up at the dark blue Alicorn in his dream. “What about you?”
“I live in the dark, in the night, alone. But I also care for the dreams of all of Equestria. Once, I craved the love and attention my sister was lavished with. My place is not there, in the bright light. I am satisfied with my position.”
“Have you read it?”
“My duties do not leave me much time for leisure.”
“I know. I know. You have more important things to do. It’s not fair to ask it of you. But I am. Have you read it?” He reached down and pried up one of the floor tiles, it was a book cover, his novel’s. It had been forgotten and trampled under the tide of texts. He passed the cover to the Alicorn. “I only have one question. What do you think?”
Then he vanished, and the page he was holding fell to the floor. On it was written only two words.
The End.
Author's Note
The point of this one should be pretty obvious. In the days after uploading something I spent months working on I saw it vanish without ever having been seen except by a tiny handful of people, mostly my own friends. I know I shouldn't expect much, being new to this. But emotions are not rational, and I wrote this as a way of expressing my feelings, no matter how selfish they might be.
I am aware of many issues with what I have written, my main character may well be a sue, there are plot holes aplenty, the writing itself is sub-par compared to much of what I have seen here. My story is long, so it shouldn't surprise me that few would read it.
I'm not very good at communicating with others, especially people I don't know.
But still. I have one question.
What do you think?
