Down With the Pastryarchy

by kudzuhaiku

Rating: teen
Tags: Sex, Profanity, Princess Celestia, Twilight Sparkle, Applejack, Drama, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Comedy, Romance, Pinkie Pie
Length: 119561

"When the revolution comes, who will be the first against the gingerbread wall?"

"When the revolution comes, who will be the first against the gingerbread wall?"

Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship, goes to Las Pegasus to attend the Great Equestrian Bake-Off. Being Twilight Sparkle, she can't have a pleasant trip, no. She finds herself in a convoluted mess of tribalism, government mandated fairness, a dying element of earth pony culture, and what just might be the remnants of the Great Equestrian Dream, a unity that might have never existed.

Left with no other choice, Twilight decides it is time to smash the system, forgetting that she is the system. Somehow, Twilight manages to lead a revolt against her own authority.

An entry in the Weedverse.

Published 2018-07-26 16:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2018-09-25 21:35:21 UTC

Chapter 1

“Those who make a draconequus of themselves get rid of the pain of being a pony.”

Things hadn’t exploded for a while, which meant that life was getting just a teensy, weensy bit boring. Spontaneous conflict seemed to be avoiding Ponyville for the time being, which left everything peaceful… and drab. Of course, this should have been cause for celebration, or at least inspire some sense of appreciation, but all Twilight Sparkle could do was feel miserable. She needed something to happen, and she needed it to happen now.

Alas, nothing happened.

Nope, not a thing.

Even Discord was remarkably well behaved and had started a reading club.

Pillars of flame and columns of smoke did not rise from Canterlot.

With Sumac Apple in the hospital for an extended stay, enduring quiet reigned.

Twilight fretted, too anxious to even pace, and wondered if, perhaps, there was something wrong with her brain, because the calm was unbearable. Now, if only some ancient evil would unseal itself on its one-thousandth anniversary, or perhaps some threat from another plane of existence would come crashing into this one… that, that would be exciting. And welcome.

Of course, Twilight knew she could go looking for a fight, but that would mean leaving the castle, and her current state of ennui was such that leaving the castle might very well prove impossible. She wanted trouble to come to her. Something that would get the blood roaring in her ears and set fire to her guts.

Slouching on her throne, one hoof making absent-minded taps, she scowled.

Twilight, fearing that her boredom had reached its middle, wondered what Spike did during his C.H.O.M.P. meetings and tried to imagine what the support group discussed. Alas, Twilight drew blanks and she made a mental note to ask Spike to share C.H.O.M.P.’s agenda with her. Was there etiquette when asking about what one shared in a support group? There might be. There could be. There should be. The right to confidentiality was something that Princess Cadance stressed as a point of ethics.

Would ponies living in the dragonlands require a support group for their eating habits?

Reaching up with her hoof, Twilight rubbed her chin and sat there making thoughtful circles while her eyes transitioned into an almost blank stare. The problem, as she saw it, in being all-powerful, was that not much was a challenge. How did Celestia deal with this sort of boredom? Twilight’s hoof continued making slow, steady circles against her chin and wondered if Celestia even had time for boredom now that she was a parent. Perhaps that was a solution for boredom.

Just as Twilight was about to sigh for the one-thousandth, three-hundredth, and thirty-third time, the door slammed open and a pink pony sauntered into the room, her head bobbing, her tail swinging, and it appeared as though she was dancing to a music that only she could hear. Preemptively, Twilight wished that Pinkie Pie would go away, because she was busy being bored.

But then the higher functions of Twilight’s brain had power restored and Twilight snapped out of her funk. “Hiya, Pinkie.”

“Pack your bags, Twilight. We’re going on a trip.” Pinkie Pie, no respecter of equinal space, shoved Twilight over and then climbed up onto the throne to have a seat. Reaching up into her mane, she pulled out a wooden scroll tube. “Princess Celestia says, ‘hello.’ You have an assignment, Twilight,” she said while passing the Princess of Boredom the sealed missive.

“A trip?”

“A trip. Seville is coming too, and we need to find a fourth, ‘cause that’s how many tickets I have and what our hotel registration is for.” Pinkie waggled her eyebrows while flapping her ears. “You have very important princess business.”

“I do?”

“Wait till Seville is here before you say that.”

Twilight’s cheeks blazed with an almost uncomfortable heat from Pinkie’s teasing, but rather than be embarrassed, she pulled the pink pony beside her into a warm hug. Pinkie Pie, a rather plush pony, was immensely squeezable and there were parts of her that were far more fun to apply pressure to than others. With a contented sigh, Twilight rubbed her cheek against the firm angle of Pinkie’s jaw and enjoyed a somewhat staticky snuggle.

“Where are we going?” asked Twilight while she held aloft the unread message in her magic.

“Las Pegasus, Twilight,” Pinkie replied. The static generated from snuggling now crackled through her curly mane and made it stand on end. When she spoke again, the tone of her voice changed, lacking enthusiasm and becoming subdued. “The Great Equestrian Bake-Off is upon us. Sadly, this will be the last year of its existence. Princess Celestia says you are to commemorate its end and give a speech about unity and friendship.”

“Wait”—Twilight held up one hoof—“why is it ending?”

Squirming, Pinkie Pie twisted her body around to look Twilight right in the eye. “Well, you see, this is an earth pony only bake-off. A place where earth ponies can compete fairly with one another. And it is coming to an end because of cries of tribalism.”

Twilight blinked in shock, blinked again, and then stared at the pink pony she was nose to nose with. “What?”

“There are other bake-offs, lots of ‘em, and those, those are welcome to all. This one is—sorry, was—exclusive to earth ponies for the sake of fairness. No magicking up a cake that is done in seconds. For many of us earth ponies, this was the bake-off that really, truly mattered. Hard work and skill was respected. But other ponies got upset that they couldn’t compete in our competition, even though there are tons of other bake-offs they could compete in, so about four-hundred years of tradition is coming to an end. All in the name of unity.”

Flabbergasted, all Twilight could do was stare.

“As the Princess of Friendship, issues of tribalism and unity fall under your, uh, I don’t know the word, Twilight.” The pink pony puckered, pouting, and her face contorted into an exaggerated expression of frustration. “Princess Celestia said it, but I really wasn’t paying attention. I’m sorry.”

Twilight’s only response was an almost curiously audible blink.

“Rarity is in the Crystal Empire, so she can’t go with us,” Pinkie Pie said while smoothing out Twilight’s scruffle with her hoof. “Rainbow Dash is off with Tarnish, Daring Do, and Megara, doing whatever it is they do to mooks. I don’t like to think about it. Fluttershy is off with Tree Hugger. Which means—”

“We somehow have to convince Applejack to leave Sweet Apple Acres.” Twilight, having recovered herself, thought about how remarkably nice it felt to have her scruffle stroked and hoped that Pinkie Pie would continue… for a while. Or longer. Longer was good. There were lots of nerve endings there that she had been oblivious to until only recently, and she greatly enjoyed the pleasurable tingles that went racing up her spine when Pinkie’s hoof moved against the grain of her pelt.

“I think Princess Celestia has an agenda—”

“What makes you say that, Pinkie?”

“Well”—she drew out the word, stretching it out into almost an Applejack-esque drawl—“she assigned Seville to cover the event, you have that missive, and I’m going as a baker. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that the princess is trying to coax us into spending some quality time together.”

“Hmm.” Twilight wondered if Cadance had anything to do with this.

“The train leaves tonight, at the ninth hour. We need to hurry, Twilight.”

Drats! The scruffle-smoothing came to an abrupt, sudden end and Twilight was left flustered. She huffed, already missing the tingles in her spine and lamented the fact that no matter how she rubbed or stroked her scruffle she could not get a reaction. She could not self-stimulate and that was just unfair.

Pulling Pinkie closer, Twilight thought about Sweet Apple Acres…

Applejack—covered in stale, almost colourless hay, and worse—was a sweaty mess. She almost seemed glad for the break and Twilight could tell that her friend was having one of those days where she had worked from sunup. No doubt, Applejack would keep working until sundown, or maybe longer. It was spring, after all, with Winter Wrap Up just behind them and there was much to be done.

Perhaps it was a bad time for Applejack to be leaving.

“Hiya, Jackie, up for a trip?”

“Going to Crazy Town?” Applejack’s eyebrow arched and her tail whipped around her flanks. “I’m ‘bout halfway there and could use the company.”

Twilight saw Pinkie Pie glancing around and nothing was on fire, at least for now. Applejack’s barn roof was scorched black, no doubt from Sumac Apple’s rocket boost flight assist. What had he been thinking? Rocket Pony, burning out his fuse up there alone. It was going to be a long, long time. Yes, she thought it was going to be a long, long time… until he was released from the hospital. Maybe a full week or so.

“This has been a crazy winter.” Applejack sighed the words, as if she was almost too tired to say them. “A crazy fall, too. In fact, the craziness started back when Big Mac brought home Sugar Belle after he went to that mass-wedding up yonder in the Crystal Empire. I still don’t know what made him do that. And the girls… my girls… my beloved little Apple dumplings—” Her words trailed off into weary nothingness even as she closed her eyes while she ground her teeth together.

“Jackie, are you okay?” Pinkie Pie asked, showing off a rare moment of attuned empathy where she wasn’t completely oblivious. “Jackie, you don’t look okay—”

“I’m not okay,” blurted out Applejack. “Those girls of mine and those pranks they pull. They like Sugar Belle. They like that mare a lot. And pretty much all winter long, they pranked her, nonstop. ‘Cause they was bored, no doubt. I swear to Princess Celestia, I’m gonna tie those girls up and toss ‘em into the hog waller. I am sick to death of these banana-shenanigans.”

A butterfly went fluttering past, nonplussed by Applejack’s anguish.

“Wanna go to Las Pegasus with us?” Pinkie Pie asked, getting right to the point while the sociopathic butterfly continued about its butterfly business, with no empathy or concern for others. “The Great Equestrian Bake-Off. All expenses covered. We’ve even got the Princess Suite reserved for us.”

Twilight could see the temptation in her friend’s eyes, but also her devotion. Applejack would no doubt choose her farm over an all expenses paid trip. Yes, Applejack was chewing on her lip now, and her green eyes glittered with thoughtfulness. A lone strand of hay fell from out of her mane and Twilight watched as it hit the ground. It felt good to be standing upon this sweet, sweet soil, and Twilight was faintly aware of the magic here.

“I can’t.” Applejack, a serious, no-nonsense pony, shook her head from side to side. “There’s plenty of help to be had here now, with the girls being as big and as strong as they are, but that’s no excuse to go, ya see. It just means I can get more done. Thought maybe I’d plant some sorghum this year and give that apple cereal idea a go.”

“Applejack”—Pinkie Pie turned to pleading rather early, rather than cajoling with promises—“please, you gotta come, this’ll be the last year, on account of what’s going on.”

“I know what’s going on, and it disgusts me. Not sure if I should go. Why, I might run my mouth, and if I did that, and didn’t get in trouble, it’d look bad for Twilight, ‘cause of favouritism and all that nonsense.

“I need my friends with me… otherwise, I’ll have an awful time.”

Rolling her eyes, Applejack was about to say something in return, but Big Mac’s voice could be heard, bellowing from somewhere beyond the barn, off on the far side. “Applejack! APPLEJACK! Where are you?”

“Aw, shit,” the apple farmer muttered to herself.

“The girls did something to the planks in the outhouse!” Big Mac shouted, his fury giving his voice incredible, fantastic volume. “When Sugar Belle sat down, they gave way and dumped her right into the basement!”

Pinkie Pie stood, mouth agape, and with much slowness, she covered her open mouth with one hoof. Twilight, stunned, had no idea what to say, how to react, or how to handle herself in this situation. Laughing was not okay, and it became a mighty struggle to contain everything. Not a muscle twitched, her barrel did not hitch, and Twilight placed immense focus upon her breathing to keep it regular and giggle-free.

“Twilight, get me outta here.” Applejack’s request was tired, pleading, but her green eyes were full of tireless fury. “Like, right now. You’ll be saving the lives of two fillies if’n you do, ‘cause I swear, I’m gonna strangle ‘em this time. Or tie ‘em up with rope. Save me, Twi.”

Alarmed, Twilight wondered just how serious Applejack was. She made the mistake of trying to read her friend’s face, but what she saw scared her. Applejack, it seemed, might just be too tired to hold back, and Twilight determined that her friend’s statements might very well be sincere.

“There are moments when I want to dash their heads against the trees,” Applejack confessed, “like right now. It’s time for me to go. Get me outta here, Twilight.”

A vile stream of vulgarities could be heard from beyond the barn and the fact that it was Big Mac shouting them threatened to do something awful to Twilight’s mind. While she stood there, listening, her ears twitching, Pinkie Pie took the opportunity to hug Applejack, and Applejack, in need of comfort, did not push the pink pony away. Twilight thought about Sumac and wondered if perhaps the Apples all had a hidden knack for cussing, because it sure sounded like it at the moment. The things that Big Mac said felt like bee stings in the brain.

In the trees of the orchard, birds took wing and departed. It was said that the animals were always the first to know of impending disaster, and Twilight observed the wisdom of nature. Things were about to go down—terrible things. Bad things. Terribad things, as Pinkie might say, but Pinkie was quiet—too quiet. She clung to her friend, trying to reassure her, while what appeared to be murder blazed in Applejack’s eyes.

Still holding her unopened, sealed missive, Twilight poofed out of existence with her friends.

Author's Note

This'll be short. And maybe hilarious. I don't know. It's Las Pegasus, of course things are going to spiral out of control. The center will not hold. And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, slouches towards Canterlot to be born?

Twilight Sparkle, that's who.

Chapter 2

Ears pricked and standing at full attention like two eager soldiers, Twilight listened to the exchange taking place between Seville and Spike. The conversation—for the moment at least—was about heroes, with Spike referencing notable mentions from his comic books and Seville spoke of hard boiled rough and tumble types from his noir novels. She knew from experience that this conversation could go on for hours and in the past, it had.

Applejack emerged, fresh from the shower, and from her slow blinking as well as hesitant, tender movements, Twilight knew her friend was nursing something of a headache. Pinkie Pie—wearing a ferocious look of concentration—was reading a cookbook while humming to herself. As it turned out, Pinkie was a voracious reader, but only when the subject matter was about cooking. Otherwise, the pink pony’s short attention span would work against her and she would get bored. A bored Pinkie Pie was a problematic Pinkie Pie and a problematic Pinkie Pie was a Pinkie Pest. Thankfully, Pinkie Pest could be dealt with without being mean to her and sending her away. She just had to be entertained somehow.

“Seville”—Applejack found an opportune moment to break into the conversation—“I can’t help but notice that the heroes in those crime drama novels are all jaded and cynical. They always think the worst about well, just about everything. All this talk about the city eternal and how nothing ever changes.”

“Yeah?” Seville gave Applejack the attention she deserved and focused his inquisitive stare upon her.

“I’m not sure I understand your fascination,” Applejack continued as she sat down on the short sofa beside Pinkie. “You work so hard to change things, so to me, that means you don’t abide by all that fatalism—”

“Fatalism, Applejack?”

“I read, Twilight… when I get the chance. Sometimes I lock myself in the outhouse and don’t come out for a while. Anyhow, I just find Seville’s love of noir novels fascinating, that’s all. You wouldn’t expect a pony like him liking something so bitter and pessimistic.”

“I like to imagine all of the ways that I would try to change things,” Seville said, explaining himself. “How I’d bust things wide-open with a story. How I’d get the scoop and do a tell-all on the front page. Even in the most hopeless, bleakest situations, you never give up, no matter how tough the going gets. Telling the truth sets things right.”

When he spoke, sharing his motivations, Twilight felt her heart-rate quicken.

Rubbing her head, Applejack nodded, but said nothing in return. Pinkie Pie turned a page and Spike appeared to be contemplating what had been said. Seville, an Orange, studied the Apple sitting a short distance away from him. Contented, Twilight enjoyed her friends being amicable and agreeable with one another. Moments like these were the best moments to be had, the most treasured, when all of her friends were getting along with one another, with no squabbling to be had.

With a content sigh, Twilight went to pack a few things.

Alone in her room, Twilight squinted at Celestia’s message, trying to read words that just weren’t there. Instructions were minimal. There was nothing telling her to do anything specific, just that issues of tribalism and unity now fell under her royal jurisdiction, as these were essentially friendship issues. After a few moments of frantically reading the same words over and over, it began to sink in that she now had immense responsibility of the worst sort: vague, undefined responsibility. If construed in the right away, almost anything could be seen as an issue of tribe or an issue of unity.

Which was, perhaps, the point. Twilight came to the conclusion that she had carte blanche rule over Equestria at large. Celestia acknowledged the massive shift in power since becoming the avatar of Ink. As wonderful as this was, Twilight had no idea what Celestia wanted from this, what outcome. With growing excitement, Twilight realised this was a test, and tests were wonderful. A test was cause for celebration.

Perhaps some compromise could be reached, something that would make everypony happy.

Sitting on her bedside table was a bottle of perfume and when she glanced around, thoughtful, it caught her eye. This was a gift from Rarity, and it was made with ambergris. The fashionista had raved about it right up to the point where Twilight had reminded her that ambergris was whale vomit, and then the fabulous mare had lapsed into silence.

Normally, Twilight never bothered with perfume, but things had changed. She had changed. Now she had disconcerting thoughts about being pretty and minding her appearance. Those had always been rather minor concerns but now with Pinkie Pie and Seville… being pretty was now a lingering concern in her mind.

Embarrassed, she levitated the bottle over, spritzed a bit of perfume beneath each wing, thinking of smelly, stinky, funky wingpits, and when she was done, she tossed the perfume into her suitcase. Then, when the worry did not subside, she extended each wing and gave a good, hearty test sniff. What lurked beneath almost knocked her right off her hooves. This… this was never a problem when she was a unicorn.

Before catching the train, she needed a shower.

A train that left right on time was the very best sort of train. After a cursory inspection of the sleeper cabin, Twilight found it to her liking. It was new, modern, with folding beds, a tiny, space-efficient sink, a fold down table with benches, and a glass skylight that revealed the stars above. It was larger than she thought it would be and the four of them had more than enough room to get comfortable.

She thought of Spike, as she tended to do when she left him. He wanted to stay at home and Twilight suspected that he had plans that she was unaware of. Perhaps an AO&O game was scheduled, or a game of Wagon Wars. Of course, there was the likely possibility that Spike sensed disaster and was going to sit this out… in a different city. Just thinking of this caused Twilight to smirk and she allowed herself to miss Spike just a little bit, even though she had just left.

Pinkie Pie seemed subdued, thoughtful, and not because she was tired. No, she was quite jittery and seemed wide awake, almost as if she had chugged an entire pot of Sugarcube Corner’s Special Black—something that Mrs. Cake had expressly forbidden Pinkie from doing. As if that wasn’t enough, the city council had passed a special town ordinance prohibiting hyper-caffeinated Pinkie Pies.

Meanwhile, Applejack had folded down her bunk and was sprawled out, staring up at the skylight while chewing on her lip. Her hat hung on a hook beside her and her mane, now loose, had spilled out all over her pillow. It left her looking younger somehow, though Twilight could not find the words to explain why. The years were catching up to Applejack—to all of them really—but with Twilight most of all.

Having existed outside of time for so long, it actually felt good to observe time again.

When she had first met Seville, he was practically a colt. Now, it could be said that he was in his prime. He had certainly matured, and for that matter, so had Pinkie Pie. When she had first come to Ponyville, each year felt like an eternity; something had changed though, and the seasons began to pass with alarming speed. Whole years had passed in the blink of an eye. With wings, time became strange to her… or perhaps the wings had nothing to do with it. It could just be coincidence. The wings could have come at a point in her life when time had lost some of its impact, its relevance.

“Sometimes, as an earth pony, I just feel stuck.”

Pinkie Pie’s sudden statement snapped Twilight from her reverie and she heard a grunt from Applejack. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Seville nod a few times, then go still. At that moment, Twilight became keenly aware that she was not an earth pony, and if the truth was to be told, was not really in touch with her earth pony aspect as an alicorn.

“It’s like, me being an earth pony is my identity,” Pinkie Pie went on to say and her eyes darkened when her face became troubled. “I don’t think I said that very well. Words are hard sometimes. Rainbow Dash is Rainbow Dash and she’s the fastest pony alive. That’s what they call her. The fastest pony alive. It’s like, it doesn’t matter what she is, because hey, she’s exciting! But when I’m mentioned, it’s always, oh, hey, Pinkie Pie… earth pony and Element of Laughter. It’s like I can’t escape being an earth pony and this isn’t a good thing. It feels demeaning and degrading sometimes.”

“Or Rarity, being the fabulous fashionista. It’s hardly ever mentioned that she’s a unicorn. Just a fabulous fashionista.” Applejack rolled over onto her side, lifted her head, and looked over at her pink friend. “Yet anytime that Photo Finish is mentioned, its the earth pony photographer. I actually brought this up to Rarity once when we was having us some drinks. She accused me of chasing after trouble that wasn’t there, but then I asked her to recall what ponies say about that Hoity Toity feller. The look on Rarity’s face when she came around to my way of thinking was quite a sight.”

Twilight sat there, aghast, and feeling dreadfully out of place.

“It’s insultin’, is what it is,” Applejack continued. “It’s as if everypony is saying to us, ‘not bad… for an earth pony.’ Every day it is a constant reminder and a slap in the face.

“I’m not alone…” Pinkie’s ears sagged and her lower lip began to quiver. “I kept wondering if I was just having a me moment. I gotta admit, this bake-off coming to an end has me thinking and I’m not a thinky-pony. I’m more of a pinky-pony. I’ve reached a point in my life where I’m kinda party pooped and now I’m thinking about what to do with my life. Thinking is hard. I’ve been feeling really insecure lately since Mrs. Cake hired on Sugar Belle as an apprentice. She’s a unicorn and she can get so much done without even trying. Me? I’m stuck doing things the hard way. The slow way. I think it’s time I moved on.”

“You’re quitting?” Seville asked.

“I gave Mrs. Cake my resignation this morning, before I left for Canterlot.”

“Pinks, you quit your job?” Seville’s eyes narrowed; he leaned forward, his breathing shallow, and he peered into the pink pony’s eyes. “You love your job.”

“Sugar Belle does it better.” Pinkie cast her gaze to the floor and gave her head a sad shake. “She can be washing dishes while finishing up a batch of cakes and mixing up batter for the next batch. She can run the entire assembly process by herself… all at once.”

“Pinks, I’m sorry… I wish I knew what to say.”

“Seville, it was time for a change.” Pinkie smiled, a brave smile that Twilight couldn’t bear to see. It was, perhaps, the most forced smile she had ever made and it was utterly devoid of joy. This smile was the antithesis of everything a Pinkie smile was meant to be. “After this bake-off, I’m gonna take some me-time. Gonna hang out with family. Spend some time with my sisters. Visit my parents. I’m gonna be a better aunt to Pebble ‘cause she’s at that age where all the earth pony pressures are really starting to settle in and she’s having a rough time.”

Twilight already knew about ‘earth pony pressures’ but she didn’t really experience them herself. The very thought of doing so scared her, that her body’s needs and demands might betray her. Pebble was at an age—the age—where every day she had to struggle so she wouldn’t fronk poor Sumac right in half. It was a struggle that Twilight had been oblivious of for so long, so much so that when she first heard of it, she thought that maybe, just maybe, Pebble might be joking. But Pebble was at the age where she was learning to control her earth pony nature and magic. Twilight couldn’t even imagine what it must be like, but the idea that she was part earth pony herself unnerved her.

“You know, I wouldn’t even be who I am or what I am without Gosling.” Seville’s eyes, narrowed and dark, held troubled storms behind them. “Nopony wanted anything to do with an earth pony reporter. I couldn’t catch a break to save my life. Didn’t matter that I was good. I couldn’t fly so I couldn’t get those aerial shots and it is difficult to interview somepony when your mouth is full of pencil. Gosling forced the door open. The worst part? Even now, after all these years, I still get treated like a porter… as the baggage handler. The heavy lifter. I am reliant upon my assistants… I have a few pegasus assistants for aerial shots and a few unicorns. And they get treated as reporters, while I’m just the baggage handler. I can’t catch a break.”

“Yeah, Seville, I could imagine.” Applejack collapsed back into her bunk with a weary sigh and kicked her legs into a more comfortable position. “And that’s all the worse because you’re famous. Your name is famous, anyhow. You’re that pony that writes those riveting front pages. Ponies know you for your writing, and not for how you look.”

“When I think about that”—Pinkie Pie’s jaw muscles clenched and her tense withers squared tight— “it makes me have not-nice thoughts. It just makes me so mad. Ooooh, so mad.”

“Pinks…” Seville’s tone was somehow gentle and fierce at the same time; hearing it caused electric tingles to go dancing up Twilight’s rigid spine. “We’re earth ponies. We’ll never be known as good fliers, or powerful wizards, and if history remembers us at all, it’ll remember us as earth ponies. History will probably be insulting though, and say something insulting like, ‘he rose above his humble origins as an earth pony to become something greater.’ Argh! I hate all of this! There are times when I feel that no matter what I do with my life, no matter what I accomplish, I’ll never be more than an earth pony. That is the best that I can hope for. Whatever hoofnote I might be in history, it’ll be glossed over for something more exciting, like some pegasus that did something spectacular or some unicorn that discovered a new type of spell. By virtue of my tribe, I am condemned to the dustbin of history.”

Twilight wanted to say something—anything—but she sat there, tongue-tied and at a loss for words. Friends had secret struggles… this was even a subject she taught in her school. But this went beyond secret struggle territory. This was an issue that they shared an awareness of—the common, shared experience of earth ponies—and she was only just now learning that this was as big of a problem as it was. They felt comfortable enough to talk about it around her—but why? What had changed? Previous to this, she had only had brief glimpses into the complications of being an earth pony, and mostly because Pebble struggled.

It was at that moment that Twilight realised that she was about to go to a convention packed with earth ponies—earth ponies that all shared a common struggle. A frustration that each of them was aware of but that society no-doubt ignored. At least, it felt as though society ignored it. She was certainly oblivious to it. Reaching deep within herself, Twilight questioned her earth pony nature, imploring it to say something, to respond.

Alas, it said nothing and Twilight couldn’t help but feel ignored.

“I’m going to the bar car for drinks,” Seville announced.

“Me too,” Applejack said while she heaved herself up out of her bunk. “You’re buying, Seville. I ain’t brought nuttin’ but my hat and a smile.”

Lacking any sort of enthusiasm, Pinkie Pie nodded. “Me three. Could you two throw me a pity party?”

“Yeah.” Applejack shrugged. “Why not? Ya just quit yer livelihood. A pity party is owed.”

“Twilight, you coming with us?” Seville, now standing, waited for Twilight to respond.

In return, she gave him a blank, dumb stare. This continued for a time until Twilight realised that she had to say something. “I’m going to stay here and look after my princess duties. I have a lot to think about.”

“Suit yerself, Twi. Come on, y’all. She won’t budge when she’s like this. Let’s go get liquored up and see what sort of trouble we can get into.”

They left and Twilight watched them go. The three of them shared a common bond, a shared experience between one another, and she could not help but feel like an outsider. Already, her mind was starting to race, and when the door shut behind her friends, Twilight wondered what Sugar Belle, a unicorn, was doing to the harmony of Sweet Apple Acres. If Pinkie Pie was feeling put out by Sugar Belle’s capability in the kitchen, what might Applejack be feeling?

It left her troubled and tilting her head back, she began to search the overhead stars for wisdom.

Author's Note

The fuse is lit.

Chapter 3

Though not fully awake, Twilight Sparkle had to hustle. She had remained awake long after the others had gone to sleep and now, she had to face the consequences. They had to catch an airship, as it was the fastest, most reliable way to cross the city due to traffic. As she trotted along, she wondered what might come next, when the skies were too full of traffic and airship travel became impractical.

Las Pegasus had been transformed by its new mass-transit system and now a veritable sea of equinity swarmed through the streets, with the city’s population having more than quadrupled in just a few years. The growth could only be described as explosive and the popular public opinion was that the city neared a state of collapse.

For a city in danger of catastrophe, there sure was an awful lot of construction.

“Over there,” Seville said while pointing.

Turning her head, Twilight saw one of the new ultra-modern airships. It had a much smaller nacelle, but required far more electricity than previous generations. It didn’t run on coal like the older ships, but operated with a stirling engine heated by a closed-loop alcohol-based boiler. The alcohol boiled at a lower temperature than water and was heated by more alcohol, which burned far, far cleaner than coal. This new design was invented by Chanson Argentée, Emperor of Fancy.

Everypony said it was the future and Twilight was inclined to agree.

“It looks like a big steel zucchini,” said Applejack while she gave Twilight a hard shove to keep her moving. “And boy howdy, I can smell the hootch in the air. Smells like Granny Smith’s moonshine.”

“Zucchini?” Pinkie Pie pronked beside Seville, oblivious to the luggage strapped to her back. “Gee, I think it looks like a pen—”

“Pinkie Pie!” shouted Applejack,

“—cil. I mean, it sorta looks like a pencil, it’s long and skinny and kinda pointy in the front.”

“Come on, ladies, let’s get moving.” Seville, always a gentlepony, led the way through the massive crowd of ponies swarming through the transit hub. “This is worse than Manehattan. I’ve never seen so many ponies crowded into one spot like this. With the rest of the world retreating to Equestria, I’m starting to wonder if we have the room to hold them all.”

Twilight, hearing Seville’s words, knew that she’d have a lot of princessing to do.

The Moondust Resort & Casino was massive, far, far larger than Twilight imagined it to be. It had its own airship station—which many of the larger buildings had—but the Moondust could dock two dozen airships at once. There was a sign boasting of the world’s largest movie screen and that each movie ticket came with twenty gambling tokens. Another sign said that the world’s largest all-you-care-to-eat buffet could be found here. The tallest part of the building was over sixty stories in height, and the building itself spread out over nine whole acres, almost making it its own city.

Why, it made the Castle of Friendship small and cramped by comparison.

As the airship eased itself into its berth, Twilight felt the first pangs of apprehension. There were a lot of ponies here, all packed into one place. Not just the bake-off, but in the casino and the resort. In the massive pool in the courtyard down below, there had to be hundreds of ponies, and perhaps over a thousand in the courtyard. This place… was a Tartarus for introverts. When her mouth went dry, she licked her lips but there was no moisture to be had.

“Twilight, you okay?”

Seville’s voice jarred her from her thoughts and when she turned she almost bumped snoots with him. He was that close, and somehow, she hadn’t noticed. Sidestepping, she moved even closer while trying to collect her composure. She had faced big crowds before—she had faced whole armies before—but the apprehension always manifested itself.

“Twilight’s buggin’ out—”

“I’m fine, Seville… just a bit overwhelmed by everything, that’s all. This place is enormous. It’s huge.” Recovering herself, Twilight gave Seville a full-body bump and flashed him a smile. “Thank you for thinking of me.”

“Don’t mention it, Toots.”

Something about the way he said it caused a bad case of the giggles and Twilight found herself powerless to stop them. When she looked him in the eye, it made matters even worse, and she was forced to turn away before she lost it completely. The fact that he could talk that way with a straight face was utterly devastating to Twilight, and she was powerless to resist his pulp-novel charms. Before she knew what was going on, she was giggle-snorting and this was the worst. Fearing a fatal encounter with embarrassment, she stepped away from Seville and covered her face with her wing.

“Whatta dame.”

With these two words, Twilight Sparkle lost it.

“Oh, hey, we got Twilight laughing early, that’s a good sign!”

“Sure is, Pinks.”

“Keep working her over, Seville.”

“Can do, Pinks.”

Snorting, the corners of Applejack’s mouth jerked upwards into a fine grin while her tail slapped around her cutie marks, swatting flies that weren’t there. “I can’t wait to see our room…”

There was a fountain. Just inside the enormous, oversized double doors, there was a fountain. A water feature. Pinkie Pie bumped into Twilight’s backside when Twilight stopped suddenly, without warning, but rather than back away, the pink pony lingered there. Equinal space was a nebulous concept for some.

Of course, this was one Princess Suite among many. A whole floor full of them. Twilight and her friends had passed by dozens of enormous, oversized, ornamental-to-the-point-of-being-tacky doors. Pinkie Pie had been mistaken thinking that the Princess Suite had been reserved for them. A Princess Suite had been reserved.

Vaulted cathedral ceilings soared overhead and sunlight streamed in through stained glass windows reminiscent of Canterlot Castle. While it left behind a fantastic initial impression, it dazzled the senses in a surefire way, Twilight could not help but notice that there was something chintzy about it. Something that almost felt mass-produced. While the room was large, it wasn’t as large as one might expect from first-sight. It was clearly as large as the floorplan allowed, with every other Princess Suite on this floor also having an equal amount of floor space.

There was one ginormous bed beyond another set of double doors, and three smaller cot beds—still folded—could be seen. They had been delivered, but not set up. Some poor housekeeper or porter was probably being overworked right now and feeling the pressure caused by the bake-off.

No matter what she looked at, Twilight’s eyes kept returning to the fountain. At first, it was impressive, but a second inspection made it seem gaudy. She could see that it was just plaster that had been slathered over with faux gold leaf. The Moondust was selling an experience; a mass produced sensory experience, and anypony with enough bits got to feel like a princess—or at least was sold the illusion of what was believed to be princess-level luxury.

“Conditioned air is sinfully delightful,” Applejack said while sauntering through the room. “I used to hate it when I was younger, but I was a stupid filly back then. I kept sayin’ it didn’t feel natural. Now as I get older, and my back aches more, and my hips get all hot and cramped, air conditioning feels better and better.”

Totally unconcerned by good taste or decorum, Applejack stood over a vent in the floor, kicked her hind legs into a wide stance, and then stood there making what could only be described as orgasmic faces while she let the cooled air blow over her hot, sweaty nethers. Twilight had seen Celestia do the same thing, but the faces the big, bossy white alicorn made were far, far more expressive than anything Applejack could muster.

“Oh yeah, that hits the spot.” Closing her eyes, Applejack lost herself to bliss.

“My press credentials.” Seville moved to check out the papers left on the table and he utterly ignored Applejack’s soft whinnying.

Meanwhile, Pinkie Pie was shrugging off the luggage strapped to her back, which was mostly Seville’s luggage; she was stronger than he by far and loved to tease him about it—until of course it was suggested that she did the heavy lifting. But it was all in fun and the complaining wasn’t real complaining, though Twilight always felt a little nervous when it happened, always fearing that something might be taken wrong. Teasing always felt risky to Twilight and she was never truly comfortable being around it or doing it.

“Jackie, now the room smells like swamp-crotch—”

“Get stuffed, Pinkie Pie. It’s springtime and already one-hundred and twelve degrees outside. That ain’t right.”

There was an explosion of laughter from Pinkie Pie, who, now free of luggage, could inspect the room. She bounced from place to place, from pony to pony, from doorway to doorway, until she came to a sudden stop and stared, open mouthed at whatever was beyond, outside of Twilight’s view.

“Pinkie?” Twilight, wondering what was up, began to cross the room.

“The tub, Twilight! It’s bigger than your bed! And the toilet! It’s gold!”

Having reached the door, Twilight ducked her head inside to have a look. Beyond was the gaudiest, tackiest, most revolting crime scene of interiour decorating that she had ever seen. All of the fixtures were of gold leaf and the toilet was, indeed, gilt with tacky fake gold. The primary colour of the bathroom was an off white—Rarity would have called it ecru—and all of the accents were grotesque shades of mauve and pastel yellow. The tub—Brobdingnagian in nature—was crecent moon shaped, but to Twilight’s eyes looked more like a banana. A big golden banana.

If Rarity was here, there would be screaming and theatrics of the worst kind.

“That’s the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen and I live in a castle with Goose.”

Seville’s words almost caused Twilight to jump right out of her skin. Somehow, he had snuck up beside her and she had been so distracted by the horrors beyond the door that she hadn’t noticed. She could feel that every single feather had fluffed itself out and now her neck—its muscles quivering—felt hot, even with the air conditioning.

Pinkie Pie, being Pinkie Pie, objected. “I think it’s pretty!”

“You would, Pinks—”

“Hey, Bub! I don’t have to take that from you!” Pinkie’s face of mock-outrage was a little too perfect and Twilight, overwhelmed and somewhat sleep deprived, felt a little alarmed by the exchange. “I’m gonna go jump on the bed! Buh-bye!”

She was gone in a pink blur, leaving Twilight and Seville stuck staring at the horrific crime scene. Seville, possessed with a surplus of earth pony sense, gently pushed Twilight back, closed the door, and shook his head. He sighed, chuckled for but a moment, and raising his eyebrow, he looked Twilight right in the eye.

“Goose would think this place was great. What’s that say about him, I wonder?”

“The prince likes big tacky things covered in gold.”

“Applejack, that’s just mean. Totally true and well-deserved, but mean.” Clucking his tongue, his eyes closed, his ribs expanding with heaved chuckles, Seville shook his head.

It took Twilight a few seconds to realise what Applejack meant and when things did click into place, her mouth fell open in shock. Turning about, she saw that Applejack was still spread-legged over the vent and was still making funny faces. When it occurred to her that she was the only pony not laughing, Twilight let slip a nervous titter and hoped nopony would notice how much she stood out right now.

After several long seconds of feeling tense, nervous, and out of place, Twilight realised that she needed to relax. She needed to lighten up. A vacation was needed… some time to cut loose and do incredibly foolish things. Her thoughts drifted back to the time when she and her friends had visited Appleloosa—and she had rekindled her love for cheesy, ooey-gooey quesadillas. That had been a great trip, a fine, memorable trip, and this one could be too. All she had to do was relax and allow herself to enjoy life a little.

Easier said than done, though.

Twilight laughed, and this time, it was neither forced nor fake. With genuine, sincere laughter, some of her tension melted away, and after a brief think, she arrived at the conclusion that what Applejack had said was funny. Princess Celestia was big… oversized… and covered in gold… very much like this Princess Suite that she now stood in. The little laughs gave way to big laughs and then, much to her own surprise, Twilight felt better. A little bit of Applejack’s honesty hit the spot.

“Sounds like Twilight is unwinding, be prepared for anything,” Pinkie Pie shouted from the other room.

Twilight Sparkle walked into the gaping mouth of the dragon, uncertain of what she would find beyond. Her frogs were tickled by the plush red carpet that was the dragon’s tongue and there was a surreal moment as she was ushered into the room beyond, the Belly of the Beast V.I.P. Lounge. Being a Very Important Pony, Twilight and her friends were given privileged access to what was said to be the finest dining experience in Equestria.

She expected something overwhelming, but was pleased to discover a room that was relatively small—almost cosy, even. Exclusivity had benefits, one of them being small comfortable rooms that were not overwhelming. The impeccable maître d' led them through the room to a quiet table in a dim corner and then stood aside as they were seated.

“The wine list will be brought out shortly,” said the maître d' while bowing his perfectly groomed head. “We are honoured to have you as our guest, Princess Sparkle of Ponyville. Princess Celestia of Canterlot has pre-paid all of your expenses, so please, indulge yourself.”

“She what?” Twilight, no stranger to princess games, now had an inkling that something was up. Reservations in the finest restaurant in Equestria? Was Celestia apologising for what was sure to be a fiasco in advance, or did she have other, more sinister motives? Twilight’s eyes darted right, to Seville who sat beside her, and then left, to Pinkie Pie. Yes, she suspected treachery, but not just from Celestia—no, this stank of Cadance’s nefarious perfidy as well.

What foul evil was ahoof?

“Reservations were established almost six months ago,” the maître d' replied. “Usually, reservations take a year or more, but there was a cancellation just before Princess Celestia contacted us by telegram.”

Twilight’s muzzle contracted as though she had a mouthful of sour candy.

“She’s so thoughtful, that princess—”

“Seville, did you have something to do with this?” Twilight asked. Right away, she saw the shock and surprise on his face, and knew, she knew that he was an innocent victim of princessly plotting. “Nevermind.”

“It seems as though we’ve been had.” Seville gave the maître d' a nod. “Thanks.”

“Very good.” Then, without further ado, the maître d' was gone.

When the maître d' was out of sight, Applejack leaned forwards, raised one eyebrow, and transfixed Twilight with a hard, almost maternal stare. “That’s quite a long time. Twilight, honey, tell me… have you done the deed yet? Have you sealed the deal? Or have you been dragging your hooves this whole time?”

Seville turned away to look at a painting on the wall and Pinkie Pie crammed a whole breadstick into her mouth, leaving poor Twilight to face Applejack’s direct inquiry all alone. Try as she might, Twilight could not look away; it was as if some strange magic compelled her to keep eye-contact with Applejack. This was, by and large, earth pony behaviour. They felt the pressing need to discuss such private matters among friends, with a real focus on procreation.

Procreation procrastination peeved persnickety ponies.

“It’s complicated,” Twilight whispered, recalling that she had made the same response to her mother when confronted over tea.

“No.” Applejack, hatless, furrowed her brows and her green eyes blazed with a fierce intensity. “It’s not complicated at all, Twilight. Even fools can do it, and often do. Some even do it by accident. I told you, it’s like jumping into a swimmin’ hole full of cold water. It’s best to just jump in and get it over with. Twilight, we talked about this.”

This was true. Twilight had endured several painful conversations about this very subject.

“Yes, Pinkie Pie got burned in the past. One jerk wanted a notch on his bedpost for fronking the Element of Laughter and then there was the whole Cheese Sandwich mess.” Applejack leaned forwards and for a moment, her lips drew tight over her teeth. “Look, I get it, I do… Pinkie Pie getting hurt and your own hangups and insecurities weigh on your mind. That pony right there”—she gestured at Seville—“he aims to make you happy and near as I can tell, he ain’t the love’em and leave’em sort. And yes, I say that with the full awareness that he and Pinkie bumped uglies and went their separate ways. Sometimes, I think what happened to poor Pinkie Pie has hurt you more than it did her.”

This was not the lunch conversation that Twilight expected or was prepared for.

“It’s not nice to keep another waiting,” Applejack continued, drawling out each word. “I can’t imagine how awkward it must be for Pinkie and Seville to scratch that itch while waiting for you to get in on the action—”

“Look, I told them they could, okay?” Twilight kept her voice low and struggled to keep her emotions in check. “I understand that ponies have needs. I do. I get that. And I felt that it was unfair for them to wait for me to sort out everything in my head. I am fully and totally aware of what they do with one another and I’m okay with it. It’s a relief more than anything. But it also makes things complicated. For me. Everything has been so complicated. Like, everything. I haven’t had time to sort things out.”

A powerful internal cringe made Twilight shudder. This wasn’t true. She had just lied to her friend. She thought of her boredom and her growing sense of ennui. There had been plenty of quiet moments to sort things out and for whatever reason… she hadn’t. Rather than apologise, she sat there stewing and feeling sorry for herself, which made things worse. Of course it made things worse, and she knew that, but she couldn’t stop it from happening.

How long had she avoided the Cadance issue because it had left her so uncomfortable?

“Twilight, you need to trust me when I say that you’ll feel better about everything if’n you’d just let this happen. You have to let yourself be vulnerable sometimes, Twi—”

“I can’t!” Embarrassed over her outburst, Twilight lowered her voice. “That’s just the thing, Applejack. The vulnerability. Having weakness. My experience… changed me. It’s left me hard. I became… whatever it is that I am right now… an alicorn… an amalgamation of a whole separate pony… I’ve become the summation of Eternity’s experiences and I can’t tell where she ends and I begin. Has she become me or have I become her? I’ve lived her life… all of it. From beginning to fateful end. And I’ve seen what becomes of a pony because of weakness.”

“Twilight Sparkle… this here phobia of weakness… is a weakness.”

She sucked in a deep breath and her most immediate desire was to shout that Applejack was wrong. Twilight exhaled, deflated, and slumped over in her chair against the table in a most unladylike sort of way. Ears sagging, Twilight silently berated herself for allowing herself to reach this point.

“Twi, this goes against everything you stand for as the Princess of Friendship.” Applejack’s voice was soft, reassuring, tender. “Opening yourself up to others is not vulnerability. It’s not weakness. I think I see it now… what happened to Pinkie Pie… twice... has become the focus for your… how do I put it? You saw thousands of years of betrayal, one right after another, and now, you need to move past that. ‘Bout the only creature you open yourself up to is Spike, near as I can tell.”

“Spike can be trusted,” Twilight muttered.

“Spike comes to us and tells us you need help,” Seville said to Twilight, his voice low and gritty. “Right now, we’re all waiting to see if you’ll ask for help while also making plans to help you.”

Lip curling back into a snarl, Twilight could not help but feel betrayed, but refused to feel angry about what Spike had done. She thought back to the day when she had enchanted a doll and almost destroyed Ponyville. When all of her other friends had failed her, and she had failed herself, Spike was there to pick up the pieces. Closing her eyes, Twilight moaned and allowed the self pity to wash over her like an incoming tide.

Reaching across the table, Applejack took Twilight’s fetlock into her own. “None of us can understand what’s happened to you. You’ve had one of them extraordinary experiences. Well, you’ve had several of them, really, now that I think about it. When you got your wings, it got a little harder to relate to you. More so than when you were just a unicorn. Your conflict with Starlight left you a little colder and out of touch with others. I could still reach you, but it felt like I had to work for it, Twilight. Not that I mind the work. Earth pony and all that.”

“Anything worth having is worth working for.” Reaching out, Pinkie Pie grasped Twilight’s other fetlock and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “This might be my fault—”

Eyes fluttering open, Twilight lifted her head. “How is this your fault?”

“Well…” Pinkie Pie’s blue eyes fell to the table and her nostrils flared wide. “I keep insisting that everypony back off and give you the space you need to sort things out. In the past, that’s worked. You usually do sort things out and then you’re fine again. You come to us when you’ve started to recover. But lately, I’ve been wondering if I’m wrong.”

Twilight’s gaze fell upon the flickering candle in the middle of the table. She had borne witness to countless conflicts, had watched all of civilisation crumble into near-nothingness, and had even seen a future when nothing at all had survived. She had steeled herself to deal with these things; any outcome, any possibility, any foreseeable future. She was prepared to deal with all manner of catastrophe and apocalyptic scenarios. Weakness had been purged and she had remade herself in the image of the princess that she was expected to be.

Except, she hadn’t.

A server approached, bearing the wine list in her magic. Twilight picked herself up, sat up straight, pulled herself free from Applejack and Pinkie, and folded her forelegs across her barrel. Weirdly enough, she felt better, but she also felt worse. She was right where she needed to be though, with her friends, and she trusted them to do what was best for her.

“No wine for me, thanks,” Twilight said to the server. “But I’ll take an ice cold bottle of Armor~Cola if you’ve got one.”

The mare bowed her head and then nodded. “For you, our honoured guest, anything.”

Author's Note

Powerful, terrible forces have aligned...

Chapter 4

Twilight Sparkle dreaded the apology that she owed Seville and had not yet figured out what to say or how to say it. She thought about feminine wiles, but those were not her forte. Once, she had asked Rarity for advice about feminine wiles, but the fashionista—after much hemming and hawing—had very little to say that was helpful, other than the gentle reply, “Don’t, darling.”

The bake-off didn’t have a convention hall, no. It had a convention wing with everything and anything the contestants needed. Kitchen cubicles had been constructed, with walls on three sides and just enough work space to get the job done. The Moondust even provided a dishwashing service, and dirty dishes would be carted away by a gleeful, cheerful, helpful attendant.

Pinkie Pie prowled the crowd, sizing up the competition with a critical eye. For the first time, Twilight wondered what Pinkie planned to fix as her signature dish. What would she compete with? Probably something spectacular. Pinkie Pie, an accomplished baker, was also something of a food scientist, at least in Twilight’s eyes. She understood food in much the same way that Twilight understood magic. Pinkie, an earth pony, had to use science and practical application to cook, and couldn’t just take raw ingredients and magic them into a stunning confection.

It was then that Twilight had something of an epiphany: by cooking with practical methods, earth ponies advanced food science. New understandings of food were constantly being discovered by earth ponies, who studied the hows and the whys of food preparation. New advances in nutrition and food sciences came primarily from earth ponies. If this food culture ceased to be, so to would the science that accompanied it. The mere idea of a loss of science horrified Twilight and left her in an almost trembling state.

Humming to herself, her mouth full of pencil, Pinkie Pie carefully scribbled down what she needed onto her requisition list. Meanwhile, Applejack was checking out the oven, an entirely new model that had a switch that made the oven rack come sliding out when you opened the door—or not, when the switch wasn’t flipped. It was just the sort of convenience an earth pony needed.

The oven, manufactured by the Sparkheim Industrial Consumer Goods Consortium, was the sleekest, most modern kitchen appliance currently available—which was exactly why it was on display here at the bake-off. In fact, every product placed here was an advertisement of sorts, from the mixers, to the cookware, right down to the spatulas with chunky, grippy grips, designed for clumsy fetlocks—because earth ponies appreciated products that catered specifically to their needs.

“Pinkie Pie…” Seville took a deep breath, held it for a time, and then let it out in a slow huff. Then, he took another deep breath and said, “Seein’ those lips of yours wrapped around that pencil… it makes a fella think. Mmm-hmm.”

Twilight froze up in shock and that was when Applejack responded, “Seville, what’s it say about a feller when he’s all reassured that a mare’s lips will fit ‘round a pencil?”

Pinkie—her sides heaving—now struggled to keep writing, and then was forced to stop when her script became an illegible scribble. Meanwhile, Applejack and Seville eyeballed one another, fencing with deft eyebrow exchanges, daring one another to be the first to cast aside their deadpan expression and laugh. Twilight felt a bloom of heat spread through her nethers and she wished that there was an air conditioning vent to stand over.

Feeling a bit sweaty in her unmentionable places, Twilight fanned her face with her wing.

“Princess Sparkle?”

Twilight paused, mid-fan. For some reason, when Princess Sparkle was said a certain way, it sounded like Miss Sparkle—like right now. Something felt off about being addressed in this manner. Turning about, Twilight eyeballed the pony addressing her. A mare, middle-aged, earth pony, sooty grey coat, and a dull pink mane that lacked shine. Though she hated judging by appearance, Twilight knew the type and anticipating trouble, or at least some degree of annoyance, she summoned her patience. Ignoring whatever her friends were up to, Twilight focused on the earth pony mare.

She was completely oblivious to the absolute transformation of her friends behind her.

“My name is Bourgogne Blintz. You may call me Miss Blintz. I am the head of outreach for the Equestrian Baking League and Director in Chief of the Greater Equestrian Unity Project. Not one pony has done more for inter-tribal unity in Equestria than I have.”

“Uh-huh.” Twilight’s face revealed no trace of emotion or reaction whatsoever.

“Yer a cunt, is what you are.”

Applejack’s drawl smashed Twilight’s ears like a sledgehammer and Twilight found that she couldn’t even respond to her friend’s insulting outburst. Miss Blintz seemed utterly unphased, her prim smile never once wavered, and the mare turned a leaden, saccharine stare upon Applejack that left Twilight feeling immensely uncomfortable, as if she wanted to take off her skin so it could crawl away.

“You… this is all yer doing.” Applejack now stood stiff-legged, a sure sign that she was ready to throw down and go rodeo on a pony. “All of this is coming to an end ‘cause of you.”

“I am correcting the tribalism that earth ponies cling to and I am dragging us into the future.” Miss Blintz had an eerie calm about her and she was utterly unruffled, unbothered by Applejack. “Some of us resist change for a variety of reasons, such as being small minded backwater hicks that are utterly unable to speak proper Equestrian. I do this for them as much as I do for myself.”

“I don’t cling to tribalism,” said Pinkie Pie while several curls deflated and went limp.

“Then you should have no problem with the transition to include others,” Bourgogne Blintz replied, turning her cool, calm stare upon Pinkie Pie. “Is there a problem with allowing others to compete in our traditions?”

Turning about, Twilight saw Applejack chewing her lip, Pinkie Pie’s mane was in danger of collapsing, and Seville had his teeth bared. Much to her dismay, Twilight realised that she was oblivious to what was going on, and had no idea why her friends were reacting the way they were to Bourgogne Blintz. She didn’t even know who Bourgogne Blintz was, but apparently her friends did. A crowd was gathering—a pretty big crowd indeed—and most of them did not possess smiling, happy faces.

Twilight, as it turned out, was oblivious to the happenings of earth pony culture.

Undaunted, unconcerned by the angry mob around her, Bourgogne Blintz turned to Twilight Sparkle, took several steps into Twilight’s equinal space, and said, “Princess Celestia told me that you would be here, Princess Sparkle. It is my sincere hope that you and I can work together to give this shameful practice a proper end so we can put it behind us. We must embrace the future… an inclusive future where we all stand wither-to-wither as equals and nopony is turned away due to tribe.”

“I’m not sure I see the problem with earth ponies keeping a cultural tradition for themselves.” Fully aware that she was treading upon dangerous, unknown ground, Twilight threw caution to the wind and advanced her position.

“Tsk-tsk.” Miss Blintz shook her head. “I would have thought the so-called Princess of Friendship would be more enlightened.” Eyes darting in the direction of the three earth ponies beyond Twilight, she added, “Perhaps you would be if you kept better friends—”

“Hey, you don’t get to cast judgment on my friends!” Twilight felt the muscles in her legs go stiff and without realising it, she brought herself up to her full height so that she could look down upon the haughty mare.

“Princess Celestia spoke so highly of you, but now that I’ve met you, I can’t imagine why.” Miss Blintz, now rigid, didn’t bother looking Twilight in the eye, but stared straight ahead, ignoring the difference in height. “Baking is a cornerstone of Equestrian culture. It symbolises many things, but first and foremost, our unity and our family values. This contest”—for a second, her face crinkled with disgust— “is the last holdout of a tribalist past. It goes against everything we believe as Equestrians. This is a celebration of the earth pony way, a practice that shuts out and excludes other tribes and reinforces a negative, tribalist point of view that persists in spite of the efforts of many to stamp it out.”

Twilight reeled. The earth pony way was bigotry?

Ears pricking, Twilight heard something, but couldn’t figure out what it was. It was a dreadful, terrifying sound, a predatory sound, and the last time she had heard similar was in the midst of brutal, bloody combat. Two conclusions were reached at once, and both of them were disturbing; she heard growling and the growling came from Applejack.

When she turned her head, she could see her friend out of the corner of her eye, and what she saw chilled her blood. Applejack’s hackles were up and she growled; a deep, throaty growl that one would not expect to come from a small hoofed quadruped of the equine species. It was the sort of growl that would send diamond dogs scurrying away with their tails between their legs. Much to her own shame and dismay, Twilight found that she wanted to see Applejack throw down.

“Is it possible that you and I could meet in private later?” Twilight asked while the gathering crowd intensified. “I can’t help but notice that just about every pony present seems to have a strong dislike for you and I am concerned for your safety.”

The greatest danger, of course, was Applejack.

“Sure.” Miss Blintz’s response was cool to the point of being icy.

“Three, this afternoon. Where can we meet?”

“The executive offices for this event. Search out the command center and ask for me.”

“I’ll do that.” Twilight’s jaw firmed and she felt a chilly prickle of fear when Applejack’s growling dropped into an even more menacing rumble. “I shall see you at three. Hopefully, our next meeting will be more cordial.”

“It will if you bring better manners,” Bourgogne Blintz replied, and then, before Twilight could respond, she turned and strode away, departing with a haughty, dismissive tail-flick.

Grinding her teeth, Twilight watched her go. The fierce growling did not subside, and it wasn’t until Bourgogne Blintz was completely gone from view that Applejack began to resemble something remotely equine again, with a very broad definition of ‘equine.’ Thoroughly irked, Twilight knew that she couldn’t just dismiss this; as a princess, she represented all of Equestria and she was obligated to face this issue head on.

“So, uh, Applejack… anything I can do to help you calm down?” Seville asked the mare beside him. “Maybe take you for a walk or get you a dog biscuit?”

“Har har...” Though no doubt annoyed by Seville’s sarcasm, Applejack did not push him away when he began to smooth out the ridge of stiff hairs along her spine. She even leaned into it and even wiggled beneath his hoof in an effort to get him to scratch her back. “I hate that mare. I’ve hated her since the day we met.”

“Applejack—”

“Eenope, I don’t wanna talk about it, Twi.” Applejack—her lower lip protruding—swung her head from side to side.

“That’s not helpful, Applejack.” Realising that now was not the time, Twilight did not press the issue. She turned to say something to Pinkie Pie, but the words caught in her throat. Pinkie looked miserable; many curls had deflated, gone limp, and poor Pinkie appeared as though she would either explode with temper or start bawling—or both. “Pinkie…”

Not caring who might be watching, or what they might be thinking, Twilight rushed to embrace her friend. She wrapped her wings around her, pulled her close, and even planted a firm kiss upon her friend’s cheek. One limp strand of mane responded and made a halfhearted effort to curl, but it ultimately failed to revive.

“That mare is horrible,” Applejack muttered while Twilight tried to reassure poor Pinkie.

“She gives Celestia fits.” Seville’s eyes shifted left, then right, then left, and came to rest upon Twilight and Pinkie. In a very low whisper, he added, “She once called Celestia an alicorn supremacist and accused her of only being concerned with alicorn issues. She said it when she couldn’t get her way about something. Not sure what.”

“She what?” Twilight squeezed a little tighter when she heard Pinkie whimper.

“Goose had to be restrained… he was going to throw her down the stairs.” Shaking his head, Seville clucked his tongue, then went on to say, “I wasn’t there, but Goose told me that Celestia had to paralyse him for his own good.”

“She makes the laughter go away.” Pinkie, sniffling, braced herself against Twilight.

“But who is she?” Twilight asked, baffled by all this hate.

“She’s a celebrity activist,” Seville replied, his ears pinning back while his expression soured. “She became a celebrity because she’s an activist. She goes around helping widows and orphans. She houses the poor. So that the world knows exactly who she is and what she does, she has a whole publicity agency working for her and she is their sole focus.”

Still holding Pinkie, Twilight somehow managed to shrug. “Never heard of her.”

“Pretty much all of her marketing and publicity is targeted specifically at earth ponies.” Seville and Applejack exchanged a glance with one another, and Seville continued to smooth out the stiff hairs standing at attention all along Applejack’s spine.

Having heard enough, Twilight made a decision. “Pinkie Pie, I’m taking you someplace quiet so I can sort you out. Now, if only we can find someplace quiet.”

“Will there be kisses?” The distressed pink mare now had a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

“Yes, there will be kisses.” Twilight’s eyes darted around, plotting escape.

“Then I offer no resistance.” After a moment she added, “I want snuggle-humps.”

Seeing no other good option for escape, Twilight thought of their room and teleported.

Author's Note

So... about that apology... what apology, exactly?

Chapter 5

“We can’t compete, Twilight.” Pinkie’s voice was almost a whine and rather than find it annoying, Twilight found that she didn’t mind. “There are unicorns out there who share a perfect cake baking spell. For them, the contest isn’t about baking at all, but coming up with a better version of the spell. It’s not fair. For them, it’s about magic and for us, it’s about baking. That’s not even the same competition.”

A humid warmth existed between Twilight and Pinkie, something that might have bothered Twilight at one time, but she found that she didn’t mind it now. It wasn’t an invasion of her space at all. Rainbow Dash was a compulsive cuddler and over the years, she had done much to erode Twilight’s resistance.

“And if we tell them not to use magic to keep things fair, all kinds of trouble happens, and that trouble happens to us. We get called tribalists and accusations get made that we’re discriminating against unicorns.” After heaving a sigh, Pinkie sniffled a bit and then lay there on the bed, silent, her mane spread out around her head in limp, almost lifeless tendrils.

The faint sound of running water could be heard, both from the fountain and from the bathroom, where Applejack was taking a shower. Twilight pulled Pinkie a little closer, and together, they formed a tangle of legs. One of Twilight’s hind legs was currently tucked between Pinkie’s generous, plump thighs and she tried not to think too much about what parts of Pinkie brushed up against her with every movement, every breath.

“Requisition form submitted,” Seville announced while he trotted into the room. He stopped at the side of the bed, tilted his head off to one side, and gave the two mares a thoughtful stare. “There is nothing worse than a sad Pinkie.”

“I gotta pull myself together by tomorrow.” Pinkie squirmed against Twilight and her tail made a soft thump against the mussed-up bed. “Tomorrow is the qualifier. That’s when about half of the ponies here become spectators and not contestants. It’s always a rough time and there’s always a lot of weepy-eyed ponies. Three days of brutality follow. Just getting to day three is quite an accomplishment.”

Biting her lip, Twilight tried to dredge up her courage. She had faced much; armies of undead, harpies, mud monsters; she had battled Catrina, Belladonna, and Dark Desire in a no holds barred beatdown; but all of this seemed to pale in comparison to making an apology to Seville. Somehow, that was worse. Of course, all of those things were easy to face: apply violence and plenty of it. Since committing herself to Seville and Pinkie, they were difficult to face, complicated; the way forward with them was uncertain and unclear.

But especially Seville, for some unknown reason.

“Seville…”

“Yeah, Dollface?”

Every bit of wind in Twilight’s body came out in one massive snort that blew Pinkie’s mane all over the place. “Mister Orange, I can’t take you seriously when you’re so silly.”

“Is that so?” he asked while rubbing his chin. “Yeah, well, I can’t take you silliously when you’re so serious, so there, my sweet little canary mare.”

She tried fighting it, but that made it worse. The giggles came and there was nothing she could do to contain them. Even worse, Pinkie Pie was giggling too, served up hot with a side of snorts. When nothing worked, when the giggles could not be stopped, she was forced to cling to Pinkie and ride out the incoming tsunami of mirth.

“Are you ever serious?” Twilight asked, her sides heaving.

“Hmm…” Beside the bed, Seville went mock-serious, and stood there, thinking, one hoof tapping against the floor. “There was that time when I went undercover with Rarity—”

“Hey!” Twilight did her best to act and sound indignant. “You’re supposed to be under the covers with me, not that hussy.”

Seville continued, undaunted by Twilight’s interjection. “She and I went into the seedy underbelly of Manehattan’s fashion industry and found a web of corruption, foal-labour, and equine sex-trafficking. Rarity beat up a bunch of mugs and mooks after I got jumped and had my jaw broken. I was pretty serious after all of that. Saw some stuff. Plus, there was that whole being saved by a dame.”

“Ever since Rarity started making costumes for exceptionals,” Pinkie Pie remarked, still giggling just a bit, “she keeps doing things that I’d never imagined her doing. It’s gone to her head.”

“Empowerment outfits.” Seville delivered the correction in perfect deadpan. “They’re called empowerment outfits in the business. Calling ‘em costumes is seen as degrading. Wearing a mask is serious business.”

“Oh, that might explain why Rainbow Dash got all peeved with me.” Pinkie heaved her body around to get comfortable, disturbing the tangle of legs between her and Twilight. “Exceptionals… they hide among us, lurking until they are needed. Dun-dun-dun!”

Twilight wished that she had a superpower that made apologies easier. She pulled herself away from Pinkie, rolled over onto her back, felt vulnerable beneath Seville’s eyes, rolled over onto Pinkie, squishing her in all of her squishiest places, and then, after much struggling, rose into a sitting position so she could look Seville in the eye, all while trying not to think too hard about how Pinkie Pie’s generous assets had just brushed up against her leg. The sudden rush of cool, conditioned air against parts of her that had been hot and humid just mere moments ago left her almost shivering, and it felt good in the most delightful way.

“Seville, we’ve committed ourselves to one another. You’ve been committed to me even though I haven’t brought much to the table of our relationship. I’ve treated you more as a friend than a lover. I owe you more than I’ve given you—”

“Hey, what’s the big idea? I’m not comfortable with this whole mare owing me something thing that’s going on.” Seville backed away from the bed and all traces of his silliness vanished. “Look, I told you, I’m fine with you moving at your own pace. I waited for years and I can wait a little longer.”

“Seville, no.” She took a deep breath and heard the shower cut off. “Let me finish.”

“Sure thing.” Now remarkably serious, Seville stood like a silent sentinel beside the bed, his face pensive and worried.

“I owe all of my friends the very best parts of me,” Twilight said, speaking while still searching for just the right words. “You and Pinkie and I, we all agreed to move things forwards. You and Pinkie moved things forward, and I remained stuck in place. I’ve held back. I’ve taken, but I haven’t given. I’ve been a poor friend and an even worse, uh, I’m not sure what I am beyond a friend. What are we to one another?”

Fearing that she was floundering, Twilight plowed forward, no longer caring if she had the perfect words. “If I owe my friends the very best parts of me, and we’re in a committed relationship, then I owe you even more. I’ve let myself down… I’ve let us down… and I aim to fix that. Just not sure how. Applejack is right, though. Everypony is right. My mother is right. I know my father is disappointed in me and that hurts a whole lot.”

Pausing, she took a deep breath, glanced at Seville, then at Pinkie, and her eyes returned to Seville. “I need some help, otherwise, I’ll drag my hooves forever, because that is what I do. I procrastinate when I feel overwhelmed or I’m dealing with something that makes me uncomfortable.”

“It’s amazing that y’all have come along as far as y’all have.”

A sharp turn of Twilight’s head allowed her to see Applejack in the doorway, still somewhat damp from her shower.

“Y’all didn’t grow up together as foals, so y’all don’t have that common bond thing that Princess Cadance goes on about. Y’all are forced to navigate these treacherous waters as adults, and y’all have all this emotional baggage… yes, even you, Seville.” Applejack’s green eyes narrowed and she turned her wise, penetrating stare upon the lone stallion in the room.

“Honestly, it’s pretty damn amazing that y’all have come along as far as you have, given the lives that y’all lead and the sum of y’all’s experiences. Pinkie Pie got burned pretty bad and then she pined for a pony that obviously didn’t share the same feelings that she did. And Twilight… you let a foalhood crush on your foalsitter completely upend your life ‘cause of all those neurosises and what not and on account that you just can’t let go of things like a healthy, normal pony. And then there’s Seville, who bumped uglies with Pinkie Pie to scratch the itch, while the both of them were a-pining away for somepony else. But that seems to have blossomed into real feelings, which, if I can be perfectly honest, leaves me shaken to my core. The odds of something like that working out seem astronomical to me. But what do I know?”

When nopony responded, Applejack kept going. “Pinkie Pie has hit a midlife crisis kinda early. Let’s face it. We’ve gotten a bit old. Twilight is now the oldest pony I know. Even older than Celestia and Luna. Pinkie has hit that earth pony rut where she wants something in life but she don’t know what it is. Her body does though. What she’s really after isn’t career fulfillment. What she needs is to be bred three ways till the Sun’s day so she can start a family afore she goes crazy. But she can’t do that ‘cause Twilight is dragging her hooves, so everything in Pinkie’s life is falling apart because she can’t get the one thing she really wants, the one thing she really needs. And Twilight… Twilight, you can’t go forward ‘cause depression is a dreadful thing.”

“Applejack… I can’t even…”

“I gots horse-sense, Twi. I reckon I’m about as wise as you are smart. No boastin’.”

“How do you know this stuff, Applejack?” Twilight’s inquisitiveness was already eating at her. Depression? Cadance had mentioned depression too, but Twilight had dismissed it, thinking that she understood and knew her own feelings well enough. But now that her friend Applejack had said it, second thoughts began to creep into her mind.

“I’m out standing in my own field,” the wise mare replied with a half-smile. “Sorry, farmer joke. But really… I’m out standing in my orchard and mindin’ my own business and some foal or pony’ll come along and start asking me questions on account that I’m the Element of Honesty, and they want them some honest answers. It started with Sumac, that little cuss pestered me day after day, following me from tree to tree while I worked, asking me what I thought of things. And being the Element of Honesty, I felt compelled to offer up some real answers, so I a-started to give a lot of things a good hard think. I read books. I talked with Cadance a lot in letters we sent back and forth. Then came other ponies… like Pebble. At least Pebble worked with me, and didn’t just stand around like Sumac did. My own girls started asking me ‘bout the meaning of life, so I had to think about what the meaning of life was, and the next thing I know, I done turned myself into the wise mare of Ponyville.”

“Accidents happen,” quipped Pinkie Pie.

“They sure do. ‘Specially to mares that’ve stopped taking their pill.”

“Dun-dun-dun!” Pinkie Pie’s outburst had no humour in it, no heart. There was nothing funny about it at all and when the joke fell flat, so too, did Pinkie. She flopped over on the bed, covered her face with her forelegs, then rolled over while curling into a fetal position.

Twilight locked eyes with Seville for a moment and she could see his panic. Pinkie had almost done something similar before during her last desperate attempt to get what she wanted. No trace of anger could be seen, no upset, just panic and… sadness? Something. She saw something but wasn’t sure what it was. There was a certain sense of desperation among earth ponies that Twilight didn’t understand—but the desire was there to gain awareness.

“Sorry… I should not have done that, but I couldn't hold it in no more. It just slipped out.” Applejack shuffled on her hooves and her damp mane slapped against her neck. “It was killing me to hold that in. I didn’t think it was fair to Seville.”

“Pinkie—”

“I have an established history of making bad decisions, Twilight,” she replied, her words muffled from behind her forelegs. “I have needs, Twilight, and they’re not being met. But I did it for you, too… I like babies, and you like babies, and I thought maybe a baby would get you to stop being so depressed.”

“You think I’m depressed?”

“I know you’re depressed.”

“Somehow, this is about Twilight’s depression and not about Pinkie’s boneheaded move.” Seville sat down on the floor, sighed, and motioned for Applejack to come and sit beside him. “Just to clear the air, I’m not mad. I’m not even that surprised. Four friends. A palatial Las Pegasus suite. One friend of four is depressed. One is going through a midlife crisis. One needed a break from her girls. And one is a roguishly handsome reporter that is wondering to himself, ‘What am I doing here?’”

“I’ve just been really bored lately,” Twilight said, explaining herself. “It’s been hard to get motivated to do anything. I feel like I’m stuck in a rut and I can’t take any time to sort things out because so much is expected of me.” Flinging herself over, Twilight pitched backwards onto the bed, and then lay sprawled on her back, no longer caring what might be exposed at the moment.

Once more, Twilight realised that she had amazing friends. All of them. Not just her fellow Elements, but all of them, each and every one of them. This made her feel a little better—it made the world a little more bearable—and in the back of her mind she made a conscious decision to make the most of this trip. Yes, her new objective was to have a good time.

“Hey, there’s a button,” Pinkie muttered while reaching out for said button. “On the side of the bedside table, where it’s kinda hard to see.”

“Pinkie, maybe you shouldn’t—” It was too late; Twilight heard a click to her left… and then, nothing happened. Nothing at all. When nothing continued to happen, she heaved a sigh of relief—only to have something happen mid-sigh.

Above, the ceiling parted and two large panels separated, sliding away from one another. Looking up, Twilight saw herself laying in the bed, she saw Pinkie beside her, and she saw just how revealing her current state of spread-eagled comfort was. The panels ceased to move with a soft clunk and she stared up at the mirror that was every bit as large as the bed was.

“Why is there a mirror over the bed?” Pinkie asked. “Do ponies lay in bed and do their manes? I don’t get it.”

“Pinkie…” Applejack deadpanned.

“Rarity has a mirror over her bed too. I walked in one day and she was cleaning it. It was gunky. She was really embarrassed.”

“Pinkie…” This time, it was Seville who deadpanned her name.

“I asked Rarity what was all over the mirror and she told me it was makeup. I thought it was pancake batter myself.”

“Pinkie…” Now it was Twilight’s turn.

“You know, I bet that mirror would be great for watching yourself get fronked…”

Author's Note

Next chapter: Ballroom Blintz

Chapter 6

Twilight Sparkle allowed herself to be led through the command center by a lisping, rather fabulous pegasus stallion who wore a great deal of mascara, with his coat and wings dusted with glitter. This was Las Pegasus; of course there would be glittery, lisping, fabulous stallions. It was all part of a wonderful experience that showcased the treasured jewel of diversity that was this city.

The command center was filled with harried, frantic ponies, the movers and shakers who worked behind the scenes to make an event such as this one possible. Everything would be filmed, the footage edited, and a series of films would be shown in theatres across the country. Contestants had to be managed, requisition forms with exotic ingredients had to be fulfilled, and there were a thousand things that could go wrong at any given moment. Somehow, the command center staff ensured that the show would go on.

While passing through the crowd, Twilight could not help but notice that most of them were unicorns. Of course they were unicorns—they had to be unicorns. You got more done with telekinesis than you did clumsy hooves. Even as she understood the necessity of it, she also hated it, she hated that it was, in fact, necessity. These weren’t even particularly magical unicorns. Her magic sense told her that the power levels at work here were barely even registerable.

The event had grown to such proportions that earth ponies alone could no longer manage it. Biting her lip to the point of causing herself pain, she studied the swarm of workers around her and took note of every earth pony she saw—of which there were relatively few. They pulled carts, moved goods, and hauled heavy camera cases around, things too heavy for weak unicorns to lift with telekinesis.

One question came to mind: was this what harmony looked like?

Unicorns naturally gravitated towards things that required fine manipulation, something that seemed sensible and normal, until one realised the sheer number of things that required fine manipulation in modern, industrialised society. This included baking, which had moved out of the agrarian kitchen and into the sleek, ultra-modern, shiny-and-decked-out-with-chrome kitchens of tomorrow. While many of these appliances and devices benefited earth ponies, they were fine-tuned with the efficiency of a unicorn in mind. The design aesthetic of the present demanded a sleek, efficient product, and anything catering to a hooves-on approach was added as an afterthought, or sold as an ‘old-fashioned’ model that was ugly and outdated beyond belief.

There was something here, some great thought waiting to come to light, but Twilight found herself standing before a door. The fabulous, glittery pegasus was already sashaying off and she watched him strut away out of the corner of her eye. She took a deep breath and tried to prepare herself to deal with what was sure to be a trying encounter, and the last thought that she had before she passed through the door was if she was actually depressed.

One of the major symptoms of depression was doubt.

This office… was empty. It was just a space, a place where whatever director or pony in charge would work from, and with the constant change in venues, this office had no doubt seen many residents. A generic but officious desk was the focus of the room—a Princess Desk worthy of the Princess Suite. Executive power fantasy desk #7, which paired well with executive power fantasy chair #5 for a stunning look that was sure to impress your inferiours. Except… it really failed to impress. Whatever imposing, imperious demeanour the desk wanted to project, the overall effect was ruined by just how generic and mass-produced it was.

Bourgogne Blintz stood by a window, staring out at the city. She had not turned around, she had offered no greeting—formal or otherwise—and had made no acknowledgement whatsoever that Twilight had entered the room. The overall result of doing so was chilling and Twilight was inclined to believe that it was okay—justified even—to dislike this mare.

“I feel as though I owe you an apology,” Bourgogne Blintz said at last, but doing so without turning around to face Twilight. “You saw a dreadful side of me. Awful, but necessary. A calculated move on my part to understand the world around me.”

Twilight, alone, chose silence as her ally.

“I intentionally use bombastic language and my phrasings are carefully formulated by a team of in-house psychologists and sociologists to be as antagonistic as equinely possible. I do this so I know exactly what sort of pony I’m dealing with. With a bit of bull-baiting, I can get a pony to show their true colours and establish control over any situation I am required to deal with.”

Bourgogne Blintz drew in a deep breath, held it for a time, and let it out in a slow, calming exhale that Twilight recognised: it was the same method that Cadance taught. Hearing it—and seeing it—along with what was just said caused alarm bells to ring throughout Twilight’s mind. It went without saying that she had to be careful, and she raised her guard.

Silence continued to be her ally.

“Your friends are weak-willed, Princess Sparkle. They allow themselves to be defeated by mere language. They willingly and gleefully relinquish all power in a situation for the sake of their imagined righteous cause—a cause they have no business fighting. This requires discipline… you send a soldier to fight a war… and your friends are not soldiers. They are utterly gutless and easily led along by the nose. But you… you show potential. You show discipline. You withheld your reaction, very much like you are doing right now, even as I say words that I know are hurting you. Impressive.”

In this moment, Twilight saw a dreadful side to all of Cadance’s efforts to advance the cause of psychology. No doubt, Miss Blintz was abreast on all of the current issues and had understanding of all of the methods pioneered by Cadance’s vast network of scholars and researchers. Cadance did what she did to heal others, to make lives better. Bourgogne Blintz had weaponised it… which meant that others would do the same, if they hadn’t already.

“To know me, you have to understand me. My motivations.” Bourgogne Blintz turned away from the window and for the first time, looked Twilight in the eye. “I’m no mindless, monologuing villain, Princess Sparkle. I am many things, to many different ponies, but I assure you, we’re fighting on the same side.”

An eyebrow lifted and Twilight’s ears pivoted forwards.

“I came to this country as an immigrant, as many do. I was a girl… a filly. I arrived at the tender age of twelve, with no prospects, no options, nothing to my name. Manehattan is a hostile, unforgiving place. It claims to be an earth pony city, but nothing is farther from the truth.” For the first time, Miss Blintz showed some sign of emotion, and she cast her gaze upon the floor.

“A dreadful fate almost befell me, but with my plucky persistence, I got a job pulling a cab. I worked from sunup to sundown. It was an awful job, but I did it. It was earth pony work. I saw no point in complaining. That awful, demeaning job afforded me an apartment… and a tiny kitchen. All day long, I worked. And at night, I baked. It is what I am good at. My mark is a measuring cup. Those baked goods, I sold to my passengers. From these humble beginnings, I laid the foundations for my success.”

Twilight could not help but wonder if this had been ‘cleaned up’ for presentation.

“I never asked for concessions to be made because I was an earth pony,” Miss Blintz continued. “I knew and understood that this was a hard, unforgiving world that was cold and unfeeling to my needs. I never hid behind the fact that I’m an earth pony and I’ve never asked for special exceptions to made on my behalf. I have watched my tribe go into decline, making excuses, demanding exceptions be made, and they constantly remind the world that they are earth ponies… disadvantaged earth ponies. They shirk competition with others and seek only to compete with themselves… but this is not how the world works. For a tribe that speaks so highly of work ethic, there sure is a lot of laziness evident. My life and my success is proof that hard work and effort can elevate one to equal hoofing.”

Twilight decided that she had endured enough sanctimonious platitudes and that it was time to deal with Bourgogne Blintz. It was time to inject some reality into this situation, manufactured or not. In fact, this whole thing seemed about half-baked and it was time to apply some real heat so it could finish cooking.

“Horseshit.” Twilight spat out the word and even as she said it, her desire to hold back melted away. “Absolute and utter horseshit. Your current state of blindness is caused by a severe cranial-rectal inversion. Not only are you blind, but you are stupid, crass, and trite. You rose to the top in a sheltered society. Princess Celestia holds back the worst of the world and enforces tribal equality here. You were free to pursue success because you came to a country where success for earth ponies is made possible by a benevolent tyrant that drags the sun around the sky. An ever growing army of guards pushes back the forces of inequality and darkness. You came to the one country where an earth pony truly can get ahead and have some measure of equality.”

Twilight delighted in the pained shock that she saw on the face of Bourgogne Blintz.

“Perhaps you should try starting from nothing in Windia.” Twilight’s brows furrowed. “Real problem with slavery there… they do awful things to earth ponies. If you had wound up there, you’d be a slave. A labourer if you were lucky… and if you were unlucky…” She left the worst fate unsaid. “Shall we even discuss Menagerie? Pre-war Menagerie, mind you. Or the Midreach? Again, pre-war. The only reason why you are anything at all is because you came to the right country and exploited good fortune. The playing field isn’t truly level, but ponies like me and my friends work to make it so.”

Pain, fear, and doubt could be seen in the earth pony mare’s eyes.

“One of my friends, you might have heard of him, he’s named Tarnished Teapot. He takes regular trips to Windia and he liberates as many slaves as he can. He does so beneath an Equestrian flag. For now, we can impose our values of liberty, equality, and unity on others without accusations of tyranny. Mister Teapot fights, hooves on the ground, and he’s done more for the sake of equality and unity than you ever will. He fights because the earth ponies can’t save themselves… the sad and terrible truth is, equality only exists in a manufactured reality, such as Equestria. It is something we have to forcibly impose.

“But it’s not just earth ponies who suffer. Unicorns and pegasus ponies also exist as slaves. In fact, my friend, Rarity, was captured by diamond dog slavers right here in Equestria. The strong prey on the weak. That experience changed Rarity profoundly. Opened up her eyes. After that, she was a different pony. She’s gained a level of social awareness that I doubt you possess. Your entire life, you’ve benefited from a system that has sheltered you and kept the worst things in the world from happening to you. But it has done you a disservice, I feel. You’re completely detached from how the world actually works… how the world actually is. Perhaps some time as a slave might do you some good.”

Bourgogne Blintz blinked in shock.

“The entire world went to war over the issue of slavery. Menagerie. It was the war that changed everything. It was The War. The Great War. It was such an awful, horrible, terrible thing that the word ‘war’ itself has become synonymous with the war against Menagerie. It’s become lodged in our collective consciousness. That war became a moral issue… and Princess Celestia got Equestria involved in that terrible conflict at my urging. She wanted to get involved… she did… but feared how the world might see us… I told her that a friend does anything to save a friend. And so we engaged in war to save the dragons and the slaves of Menagerie. We did it so that one day, sanctimonious twats such as yourself could boast about rising to the top with no help or assistance, entirely through their own merits, with them never once thinking of the untold numbers who died to give them the equality that Princess Celestia feels they deserve.”

Sensing weakness, Twilight advanced and closed the distance between her and Miss Blintz. She moved slowly, but without hesitation. Princessly confidence radiated from her and she seemed to glow with an unseen brilliance like a small purple sun. There was nothing haughty about Twilight, or arrogant, or even imperious. But there was something majestic about her, something purposeful and grand.

“You live in a country where you are allowed to be educated to the degree that you have. You have access to the resources shared by those who have come before you. You… you live in a country where literacy for earth ponies is not only allowed, but encouraged. It isn’t against the law for you to understand letters and numbers. You’ve had access to the vast wealth laid down by the earth ponies who built this nation and it is only through those rich resources that you have had the good fortune to become what you are… a pompous, obnoxious jerkbag whose explosive opinions only exist because she has the good fortune to live in a nation that protects and enforces her right to do so… in other parts of the world, you’d have your tongue cut out. Or worse. Trust me, there’s worse. I’ve seen it. You are the product of your environment, and as a Princess of Equestria, I am abjectly ashamed if you are somehow the best we have to offer.”

Now standing about a yard away, Twilight paused and offered up a warm, sincere smile. “Now that we understand one another, how can I, the Princess of Friendship, help you? I was sent here to make sure that this final bake-off is memorable. What can I bring to the table to achieve this end?”

There was no response from Miss Blintz.

“Did I leave you all shocked and shook up?” Twilight asked, her words warm and sincere. “Did I destroy your carefully construed and half-baked narrative? Your bombast might work on those you believe beneath you. In fact, I would imagine it must work shockingly well. But you and I, we’re on more equal hoofing I think. How is this approach working out for you right now? You seem as though something is bothering you. Allow me to help you.”

“You can help by leaving,” Miss Blintz replied. “In fact, I don’t want you here at all. Your services as a princess are no longer required and you are dismissed. Your involvement is no longer deemed necessary. And… should you attempt to cause trouble or disrupt these proceedings, I will have you barred from the premises… and your friends as well. Any attempts at interference will be met with force.”

“Is that so?” Twilight smiled, a warm, kind smile. “I’d like to see you try…”

Author's Note

Next: Twilight does something that could be considered unethical.

Chapter 7

Doubt was a terrible, dreadful thing, and made even more so with the knowledge that lasting, lingering doubt was a symptom of depression. This doubt now gnawed at Twilight’s insides, robbing her of her confidence. Already, she was second guessing herself, wondering if she could have handled the situation a little better, if she might have done something different, or chose a different means to deal with Miss Blintz.

At the time, it seemed perfectly reasonable to use the same tactics of bombastic language and antagonism to see if she could get a response—to see if Miss Blintz could be shook up in the same way she did to others. This mare had to be dealt with somehow, but the verbal sparring match was ultimately unsatisfying. Perhaps the right thing had been said, but for the wrong reason, driven by the wrong motivations. Or, perhaps, everything was a mistake. What mattered now was that a different approach was needed, because Twilight knew that she wanted nothing to do with Bourgogne Blintz—that mare brought out the worst in ponies.

Twilight saw a genuine threat to the well-being and unity of Equestria, but it wasn’t something that could be pummeled into submission, blasted with spellfire, or threatened into neutralisation. Bourgogne Blintz was a fount of ideas, and ideas were just about the most dangerous things in all of existence. Mister Mariner laid Equestria low and his most devastating weapons had been his ideas.

To fight bad ideas, you needed better ideas to replace them…

“Princess Twilight?”

Hearing her name, Twilight paused while eyeing the elevator. This was the worst time to have a conversation, but it couldn’t be helped. Withholding a weary sigh, Twilight turned to face the pony addressing her and saw a young mare in the advanced stages of pregnancy. She did a double take, she couldn’t help it, but she managed to recover herself before committing a social faux paus.

“Hi. Call me Twilight.”

“You had a meeting with my boss—”

“Yes I did.” Before Twilight could stop herself, she bristled at the merest mention of Bourgogne Blintz.

“I can’t stand her, but I need the bits… for obvious reasons.” The young earth pony mare shuffled on her hooves, flicked her tail, and flashed a nervous smile. “My name is Bundt Buttercream. I’m about to have twins. Yay, I guess. But that isn’t why I wanted to talk to you.”

“Well, Miss Buttercream… is it Mrs. or Miss?”

“Oh, I’m available,” Bundt replied, batting her eyelashes in a fetching way.

Twilight’s cheeks took on a dark, dusky purple hue and she took a quick deep breath to compose herself. “Miss Buttercream, what did you wish to speak to me about?”

The elevator arrived, the doors opened, releasing a gust of perfume-scented chilly air, and about a dozen or so ponies came pouring out. Twilight cast a sidelong glance at it and knew that she would miss this one. Feeling a twinge of regret, she turned her full attention to Bundt Buttercream while the doors to the elevator whooshed shut.

“First off, I want to apologise for my boss. She can be overbearing in the worst way. If I didn’t need the bits so bad, I’d’ve quit by now.” Bundt took a moment to blow her muted blue mane out of her eyes and then, for the second time, she batted her eyelashes at Twilight. “There are some things I’d like to tell you, but it can’t be known that I told you, if you get my drift. Is there a place where we can chat in private?”

Twilight knew just the place. Too bad the elevator was gone.

“Come with me to my room… but not in that way!” Twilight, alarmed, felt a curious sense of arousal and she did everything she could to ignore it. “I’ll introduce you to my friends and then we’ll talk about whatever it is that you wish to tell me.”

“Hey, you’re kinda cute when you’re flustered. I like flustered, overly-innocent subs.”

Breaking into a sweat, Twilight wasn’t sure what Bundt meant and she didn’t have the wherewithal to ask. Reaching out with her magic, she pushed the button to call the elevator and couldn’t help but feel that the wait this time was going to be a long one. Turning her head, Twilight did her best to avoid looking at the plump young mare.

“Bundt Buttercream! Las Pegasus, where dreams come true. I never thought I’d meet you face to face!”

This was not at all expected. Twilight glanced at Seville and saw him cringe. She wondered why—why was he cringing? Why did he look away, blushing? Applejack snorted, Pinkie Pie began to giggle, and Twilight wondered if she was missing something obvious—again.

“You know Miss Buttercream?” Twilight asked while the mare in question began to titter.

“Uh… well… I am a fan of her work,” Seville stammered.

“Hey, I am too!” Pinkie’s voice was a bit too high-pitched and chirpy. “Seville, I had no idea!”

“Well, it’s something you keep to yourself.” Seville cast a glance at Pinkie Pie, but did not meet Twilight’s gaze and seemed to be avoiding eye-contact. “Oh… this is awkward.”

“Yeah.” Applejack nodded her head. “And yet again, Twilight is utterly clueless.”

Taking a deep breath, Twilight prepared herself for sudden and inevitable embarrassment, because that’s how these things went. Clearly, something was going on that she had no understanding of. Turning her head, she cast a sidelong glance at the pale green mare beside her and got an eyeful of jiggling, giggling, plump, pregnant mare. Pressing her lips into a straight line, she jerked her head away.

“This feels like a joke that I’m not aware of,” Twilight remarked.

“Oh, it is.” Applejack grinned for the first time and her green eyes flashed with mischief. “A princess and a pornstar go upstairs together in Las Pegasus—”

“What?!” In shock, Twilight stood there blinking while Pinkie Pie pitched over with laughter.

“‘Scuse me, gotsta potty!” Bundt Buttercream took off with remarkable speed and oddly enough, was familiar enough with the floor plan to know exactly where the bathroom was.

This fact did not escape Twilight.

Someday, years from now, Twilight would look back on all of this and laugh. But for now, she was content to be miffed about it. Bundt Buttercream was a food erotica artist and as it turned out, Seville and Pinkie Pie both were familiar with her work. The explanation, long in the telling, had left Twilight utterly flabbergasted. Sumac looked at porn and that was, by now, expected. But Sumac was a juvenile. As shocking as it was, it was something that she had made peace with. Seville though… and Pinkie Pie. Twilight had never imagined that they too, might enjoy porn. That they shared an appreciation for the same model blew Twilight’s mind.

“I really liked your pred-spread that you did two years ago.” Seville’s voice cracked three times while speaking. “It was artful, and I thought it really summed up the plight of earth ponies—”

“Wait.” Twilight held up one hoof. “How does porn sum up the plight of earth ponies? Serious question.” When four earth ponies all stared at her, Twilight felt her skin crawl. She couldn’t read their faces—she could not discern their feelings or their reactions and she could not help but feel as though she was an outsider. Clearly, there was common knowledge at work that she was oblivious to the existence of. She watched them blink at her and suddenly, she was a filly back in school once more.

Much to Twilight’s horror, she noticed Bundt Buttercream’s cutie mark—a glazed bundt cake—and knew that she would never be able to look at cake in the same way ever again. The glazed hole would remain forever suggestive.

“Earth ponies,” Applejack began.

“Are sexual ponies,” Seville continued.

Applejack shared a glance with Seville and picked up where he left off. “But we’re also considered helpless, compared to pegasus ponies and unicorns.”

“So we are the ultimate prey for both sexual and predatory appetites,” Seville explained, his face turning a dark, reddish orange. “Other ponies want to fronk us, and lots of critters want to eat us. That’s life as an earth pony, in a nutshell. Pred-spreads acknowledge this fact, and the style has earth ponies trussed up and ready for baking in oversized cookware. Some of us have fetishised the desires that others have for us.”

Ears pinning back, Twilight did not know how to respond, so she looked out the window, squinting in the bright light. The fact that she was part earth pony now did not escape her and in the entirety of her life she had never felt so out of touch with herself. This frank discussion was not only an eye opener, but also a hard-knocks education about earth pony basics.

Seville coughed, a polite, reserved sound, and in a low voice said, “Miss Buttercream defied all expectations in that photoshoot by looking sad and vulnerable. She, uh, said a lot with her face by not looking sexy and willing.”

“I had no idea,” Twilight muttered.

“I’m very fronkable.” Bundt Buttercream rubbed her rounded tummy. “And because I’m an earth pony, when I say no, I secretly mean yes. That’s why I became a dom. I like the reversal in power play. It’s the only way I get respect and free agency.”

“But… you’re so young.” Twilight allowed herself to look at the pregnant mare and did so as a concerned princess and a caring pony—not as a pervert who saw something worth looking at.

“That’s never stopped a stallion from thinking I was asking for it.” Miss Buttercream made a dismissive wave with her hoof. “I’m an earth pony… it doesn’t matter that I’m a lesbian, I secretly want all stallions to jump my bones. And if I tell them no, I’m a little minx who is playing hard to get. Or I just haven’t met the right stallion yet.” Turning her head, she glanced in Seville’s direction. “The worst of it comes from my fellow earth ponies.”

Twilight wished that she knew what to say.

“If you ask Miss Blintz, she’ll tell you that we’re our own worst enemies and she and she alone has the moral purity and forthrightness to deliver us from our own sinful, wicked inequity. Like everything else I do, I’m only working for her because the pay is good and she is exploiting my connections with the entertainment industry. Yeah, I’m whoring myself out, but at least it is on my terms… and like I said, the pay is good.”

Twilight seized upon the chance to change the subject. “There was something you wanted to tell me?” She saw Bundt look around, thoughtful, and her expression relaxed a bit.

“Yeah. I might be working for Miss Blintz, but I’m not loyal to her. She doesn’t pay me enough for that. Whatever I say though, it can’t be traced back to me. Ya got me? I have enough complications in my life and I’m about to retire from the business so I can raise my foals right. I can’t have things falling apart right now.”

Seville nodded. “Understood.”

“By the way, I read your work. The truth gives me hope. Ya gotta keep that up, Mister Orange.”

“Thank you.”

“I gotta pee again. And I just went, too. I’ll be right back, and I’ve got some stuff to tell you.”

Twilight—now strangely relaxed—allowed herself to settle into the sofa and she melted into its plush, luxurious cushions. There were drinks to be had, sodas pulled from the tiny but ice-cold refrigerator. Seville’s demeanour had changed, though it was difficult to say how, and he was now Seville the reporter in very much the same way that Twilight could be Twilight the Princess of Friendship.

“Can I tell you a story?” Miss Buttercream asked, rubbing her front hooves together. “I think it’ll help with the impact of what I’m about to tell you. Relevance being what it is, and all.”

“Sure, go right ahead,” Twilight replied.

“My Ma is a factory worker. She’s a unicorn, and this is relevant too. She works in a wrought iron mill. They make fences, gates, circular staircases, all kinds of stuff. They take iron and they bend it and shape it in complicated machines.” Bundt licked her lips, now nervous. “It’s hard work. It’s awful work and I’m lucky I’m not stuck in a factory. Much of the work is done by earth ponies. A piece of iron is loaded into a machine and a lever is pulled. The iron is bent into shape by the application of force and raw strength. It’s how stuff in Equestria is made.”

Twilight nodded, acknowledging this.

“Now, my Ma, she’s not in charge, she doesn’t do the books, she’s not smart enough to do any of that. She had to drop out of school to have me because her history teacher wouldn’t take no for an answer. So my Ma, she takes a job in the factory. Only she doesn’t pull one lever, no, she pulls several. Only she doesn’t get paid more, she gets paid the same as the earth ponies, even though she’s doing more than one job. Over the years, my Ma, she gets strong and her telekinesis gets some real punch to it. Ten years in, and she’s a lever pulling machine and she’s got a whole corner of the factory floor to herself. She’s still getting paid bupkis though, even though she’s doing the work of at least twenty or so earth ponies. But at this point, they were laying the earth ponies off. The old ones, mostly. The ones with bad backs and blown-out hips from doing the same thing day in and day for most their lives.”

Applejack, saying nothing, reached down and rubbed her hip.

“See, my Ma, she’s doing all this work, and the earth ponies, they don’t hate her. She’s shit on just like they are. She’s one of them… exploited for all she can offer. Even though she took over some of their jobs, they don’t hate her, ‘cause she’s doing all this work but she’s not getting paid more for it. The point is, I have a background in all this stuff.”

Twilight waited, her withers tight with tension.

“And that’s part of the reason why Miss Blintz hired me. I have a background in this stuff. Right now, she’s negotiating a position as a consultant. There’s a big crisis coming… like, a really, really big crisis, and she’s being asked to manage it so some of the damage can be mitigated. That’s sorta why she’s here now, running this show, and trying to get everypony motivated. She’s aware of what’s about to happen and she’s trying to inspire and motivate. It’s her way of doing good.”

Bundt took a deep breath, held it for a good ten seconds or so, and then let it all out in a huff.

“There’s a new wave of automation coming,” Bundt whispered while her eyes darted about. “The factory owners have seen just how profitable it is to have a unicorn run stuff and now they’re aiming to get rid of the workers altogether. I’ve heard it said that the tech from the Great War will allow for a new level of mechanisation. I’ve even seen some of it with my own two eyes. They have these machines that loaded giant bullets as big as your head into cannons and they’re modifying those to load soup cans onto a conveyor. All that war time tech is being repurposed and millions of earth ponies working in Equestria’s factories are gonna be out of work soon.”

There was a weary sigh from Applejack.

“Miss Blintz knows that earth ponies are going to have to compete with unicorn ponies and pegasus ponies for jobs and she knows that it is going to be horrible and unfair. To hear her tell it, she’s trying to get them to see reality now. She really does think that this is what is best for all of us… and a part of me is inclined to agree. We can no longer compete amongst ourselves. Somehow, we have to adapt to all the changes. We have to face up to the fact that the world isn’t fair. Miss Blintz actually believes that if we just find some new way to work, we’ll recover and be fine. Me? I’m not so sure. I don’t know if it is a matter of hard work any more. Honestly, I don’t know what to think.”

“An entire tribe is about to be left behind.” Applejack’s eyes were dark and stormy, like angry thunderheads. “It’ll be back to the fields with us, only there’s too many of us and not enough fields. And those are being mechanised too, what with steam-powered tractors and all. It’s not a good life, but for most of us, pulling levers and using our strength is all we had. Our strength is the only asset we had left.”

“Ooh, it feels like somepony is stomping on my bladder. I gotta go!”

As she was wont to do in times of trouble, Twilight paced. This room, the layout was different, and that made pacing difficult—her established, mindless routine could not be followed. Yet somehow, she managed. With each step, she thought of everything that had been said by both Miss Blintz and Miss Buttercream.

Bundt Buttercream was gone. She had departed with much well-wishing and Twilight was certain that she had made a new friend. Contact would be maintained and Twilight had made it clear that Miss Buttercream was welcome to visit at any time. The weight of the world bore down upon Twilight’s back and she began to doubt her own words, everything she had said to Miss Blintz.

The Great Equestrian Dream was in real danger. Twilight had grown up believing that with hard work came the reward of a good life. As an adult though, she saw that what she had grown up believing wasn’t quite as true as she would have liked. Poverty wracked Equestria, but one tribe suffered more than the others. The promise of equality still existed, but the reality of said equality left a lot to be desired.

At least Miss Blintz had a plan. Twilight didn’t even have that at the moment. Bourgogne Blintz’s methods though, those were doing a lot of damage—perhaps too much damage to ignore. A dull flash of anger sparked through Twilight’s mind and she felt an intense dislike for Miss Blintz. It was so strong that it literally left a bad taste in Twilight’s mouth and she was forced to stop pacing.

“We’re in Las Pegasus. And rather than having a good time, we’re stuck in a room watching Twilight pace.” Pinkie Pie pitched over on the sofa, kicked all four legs up into the air, and whined, “I’m bored.”

“Seville, I need you.”

Ears pricking, the yellow-orange stallion sat up straight. “The Royal Back Scratcher is ready to serve, Dollface.”

Somehow, Twilight smiled. Somehow, Twilight meant it. Somehow, the smile was real and sincere. Somehow, it felt good to smile, and it felt even better knowing that, if she asked, she could get her back scratched. There was no truer proof of friendship than a pony (or creature, for that matter) willing to scratch one’s back.

“No, I need you in an official capacity, Seville.”

“Fine, then. Royal Butt Scratcher reporting for duty.”

“Seville… no…” Comically distressed, Twilight shook her head.

“Oh hey…” His ears splayed out sideways, his eyes darted left, right, left, and then came to rest upon Twilight again. “Do you have an itch that needs scratching… on the inside?”

Words departed from Twilight; all of them, at once, decided that it was time for a relaxing vacation on Depot Island. Perhaps some time on the beach was in order. With the communication department of Princess Twilight Sparkle shut down until further notice, it was all she could do to stare at Seville and listen to the sounds of Pinkie Pie and Applejack chuckling.

“She’s kinda cute when she shuts down like that. Look at her.”

“I know, Applejack.”

“I find it reassuring,” the apple farmer continued. “Parts of Twilight have changed, but certain fundamental aspects of her nature remain the same. Moments like this one tell me that Twilight, my friend, the pony that I have come to know and love, has survived her profound ordeal. That long walk home of hers. Look at that blank expression on her face. That… that is Twilight.”

“That’s the face I fell in love with,” Seville confessed.

Twilight’s wingpits moistened a great deal and she felt hot, sweaty, and itchy. Other places also moistened, and thus, she began thinking about the word, ‘moist.’ She shivered; perhaps it was from the air conditioner, the intense scrutiny of her friends, or perhaps because her mind now had the word, ‘moist’ lodged deep in a mental crevice. Yes, that crevice had been moistened, along with another.

Moist, fluffy cake had never been an appealing descriptor for Twilight—something about these words said in a series had bothered her in some vague but undefinable way. But right now, Twilight was very much like a cake; she was, indeed, fluffy, more so with wings—and she was moist. She was a princess pony cake of the moist, fluffy variety, and like any cake, she was in need of icing. Twilight’s only conclusion? Pinkie Pie had broken her brain.

“Seville, I need your services as a reporter,” Twilight somehow managed to say.

“If your face is a case, I’m on it,” he replied without skipping a beat.

That was clever! Twilight’s heart slapped against her ribs to get her attention and yet again, her mouth mysteriously went dry as all of the moisture contained therein went south to other places like a flock of birds in winter. Her brain, unbidden, began to think—vividly—of all the ways that Seville could be on her face.

“I need you to write about Miss Blintz.”

“Everything we just heard about? Unsubstantiated rumour?” Seville’s face became troubled.

“No.” Twilight’s wings peeled away from her sides, revealing sweat-darkened patches of pelt. The sudden rush of cool, frosty air was divine. “We’re going to warn the world about Miss Blintz’s tactics, which she revealed to me as she was trying to ply my confidence. I can tell you, word for word, everything she said, and I need you to print that. The world needs to know what she is up to.”

“Right now, when she’s trying to hold everything together? If’n what we were told was true, Twilight, and I’m inclined to believe that it is, tearin’ that cunt a new one might be a bad idea. Like her or not, she’s a pony that other ponies listen to. She has the magical power of celebrity at her disposal.” Applejack’s ears sagged and an incredulous look crept over her face like slow-poured molasses. “I can’t believe I’m defendin’ her. Is that celebrity magic at work?”

“I don’t want another Mister Mariner,” Twilight offered, sharing her reasoning. “If she has genuine help to offer, that’s great. But she needs to be defanged. She’s… weaponised everything that Cadance uses to heal ponies and that scares me something awful. The truth will go a long way toward dulling her bite. If she’s half as clever as she claims to be, she’ll adapt and pioneer a new approach on the fly. She’ll rise to the top. If bull-baiting, if using psychology and sociology as weapons is all she knows, if those are her only tactics, then she is not the hero that Equestria needs. It’s better to destroy her now before she does some real lasting harm.”

“You’re serious,” Applejack deadpanned.

“I saw Mister Mariner coming,” Twilight replied. “I tried warning everypony. Nopony did anything. It was so frustrating to watch all of Equestria fall down after I had spent so much time shouting out a warning. Celestia as my witness, I see the same sort of threat in Bourgogne Blintz. It’s funny, if you think about it. One of the worst threats to Equestria was an earth pony, because what he had to say resonated with his tribe. If the things he said didn’t hold a grain of truth to them, he could have been dismissed. But what he had to say did hold a grain of truth and he harnessed the power of Equestria’s earth pony population. He spoke to the disenfranchised and the disillusioned. An earth pony caused Equestria to go dark. Bourgogne Blintz could very well do the same. Which is why I am acting now… I learned what one earth pony can do.”

“That’s”—Applejack sat on the sofa, blinking—“I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“If what Bundt Buttercream has to say is true, and I’m willing to believe that it is, the last thing we need is Bourgogne Blintz leading some kind of earth pony revolt. If anypony is going to lead an earth pony revolt, it’s gonna be me. I’ll stage a revolution myself and focus their destructive energy into something positive. Somehow. It’s only an idea… for now. But I’m working on it. Celestia would understand if I turned against her for good reasons. It’s something we’ve discussed as a contingency. A staged coup where I leverage my popularity as the ponies’ princess.”

“It’s true, they have.” Seville glanced at Twilight, but his eyes did not linger for long. “I’m not comfortable with that level of social manipulation. Feels dishonest.”

“We’ll get started tonight,” Twilight said to Seville. “But first, we’re going to look after Pinkie’s needs. She’s bored and distraught. Tomorrow, she needs to be the best Pinkie she can be. So let’s fix that, shall we?”

“Pinks, what do you want to do?” Seville asked.

“Well,” she replied, perking up, “there’s this roller coaster that I know of, and we have a princess so we can cut in line...”

Author's Note

Whatever you do... do not think about how young Bundt is and the fact that she's been doing porn for several years now. Society is still a work in progress.

Chapter 8 (Musical interlude)

The photo was evidence of Twilight’s majesty and Pinkie Pie’s resistance to physics. During a moment of pure speed and intense gravity, a photograph had been snapped of Twilight and her friends on the roller coaster. It was a mechanical marvel, a camera timed and focused to each car as it passed, so only Twilight and her friends could be seen. And what a picture they had taken.

Twilight’s face was stretched, distorted, her cheeks flapped around like a windsock in a hurricane, revealing her teeth all the way back to her molars. Even her eyelids were rippling and the overall effect was that she looked like a mutant alicorn horrorshow. It was, perhaps, the least flattering photo ever taken of her, and she loved it.

All of their faces were gross, distorted, stretched beyond any sense of reality, except for Pinkie’s. Somehow, Pinkie Pie had puckered up and offered up a pouty moue at the camera. She had struck a pose and was exceptionally beautiful—doubly so in comparison to the freakshow horrors beside her, which might have been intentional on Pinkie’s part. For whatever mysterious Pinkie-Reason, gravity did not tug at her cheeks, her eyelids, or her ears.

It was a photo that Twilight would treasure.

In equine society, hats meant something. Wizards were recognisable by their hats and hoods. Twilight, as a princess, wore a crown. Police ponies wore their badges on their hats. Guardsponies wore helmets. Reporters like Seville wore their press badges on hats—in Seville’s case, a fedora. Telegram delivery ponies wore funny little hats that Twilight did not know the name of. Society was demarcated by hats and your position in society was determined by the hat that one wore.

For Twilight, it was something to think about while she studied her friend, Applejack.

Applejack’s hat said a great deal about her, though Twilight wasn’t certain what others might see or think. There was a certain amount of character because of the hat and in Twilight’s eyes, it was an indicator of what you were getting: Applejack was plain and practical. Not many things advertised that they were plain and practical, but Applejack sure did. She lived it, was proud of it, and the hat she wore symbolised pretty much everything one needed to know about her.

Then there were the times when Applejack took her hat off…

A different, hatless pony lurked within Applejack. Celestia too, was entirely a different pony. If she took off her crown and regalia, interesting things tended to happen. Twilight was a different pony if she put her crown on. The moment the cold metal touched her head, a different mood overtook her. Pinkie Pie needed no hat, though she occasionally wore them. Those curls of hers communicated everything one needed to know about Pinkie Pie, a visible indicator that was incredibly informative to those who knew what to look for.

Pinkie Pie had returned to full-on chaotic curly-girly after the roller coaster, too much cotton candy, and a supper consisting of ice cream sundaes. It was not a responsible adult meal, but this was Las Pegasus, and they were free to indulge in bad behaviour. It was expected. Bad behaviour had consequences though—one was never free from those—and now they were stuck with a sugar-bombed Pinkie Pie in the close quarters of the Princess Suite.

‘Twasn’t the worst of fates, at least for those who loved Pinkie Pie.

While Seville was finishing up his report, and Twilight was reflecting upon his fedora that he wore while working, the pink pronker bouncing laps around the fountain began to sing: “Here she comes now sayin' pony pony…”

Twilight braced herself for an impromptu musical number; these happened around Pinkie and it was best if one went with the flow and followed the musical prompts as they happened. It was, perhaps, the strangest, least understood kind of magic.

“Smoosh 'em down, turn around, come on pony.”

A hatless Applejack’s ears pricked.

His forelegs resting upon the table, Seville sang along: “Hey she give me love and I feel all right now.”

Head bobbing, bouncing in time to music that wasn’t there, Pinkie continued, “Come on you gotta toss and turn and feel all right, yeah I feel all right. I said yeah—”

Applejack too, got in on the act. “Yeah?”

“Yeah!” Head still bobbing, Pinkie’s bright eyes twinkled.

Reserved, Applejack played it straight. “Yeah?”

“Yeah!” Pinkie squealed. “Cause you make me feel... so good… so good… so good… so fine… so fine! It's all mine, well I feel all right! I said yeah—”

Twilight couldn’t help herself and snuck a word in before Applejack. “Yeah?”

“Yeah!” Throwing her heart into her performance, Pinkie Pie flung herself around the room, pirouetting in an impossibly graceful manner that belied her well-padded frame. “I love you pony po-po-pony, sure I do!”

“Oh, come on,” sang Seville, his eyebrows bouncing in time to Pinkie’s phantom beat.

“I love you pony po-po-pony, sure I do!” Pinkie did a cartwheel and narrowly avoided a fragile-looking wooden table that sat at the end of the sofa.

“Oh, come on?” Twilight wasn’t sure what was going on, but she followed along anyway.

“Wake it, shake it, pony pony!” Pinkie sang with incredible volume. “Don't stop cookin', 'cause I feel all right now! Don't stop now, come on pony!”

Twilight, lured off of the sofa by an invisible, irresistible force, joined Pinkie in her antics and even tried dancing. She was alone, in private, so how much damage could she cause by attempting to shake a leg? So shake a leg she did and she even gave her backside a bit of a wiggle. Just as Twilight was starting to feel her groove, (the moistness of which was not up for discussion) Pinkie Pie lept on her back. Twilight’s wings flared out in surprise and Pinkie’s chunky thighs squeezed tight against Twilight’s ribs.

“Ride your pony! Ride your pony! Ride your pony, come on! Come on! Pony pony!”

Compelled by strange forces, with a plush, plump Pinkie Pie astride her back, slapping her backside with a hoof, Twilight was ridden off into the sunset of the bedroom.

Author's Note

We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming. Next, on Baking Horse Drama...

Chapter 9

Las Pegasus was a weird place to find whatever remained of the Equestrian Dream, and yet here Twilight Sparkle was, now wondering if it had ever existed. Had it been a commercial product, concocted, branded, and sold to the public at large? A brave step had been taken, a bold, courageous step forward into some bright, unknown future. Equestrian feudalism had once been the shining light of the world and they had experimented with something more progressive. Twilight, optimistic though she was, wasn’t so certain if this qualified as a success. For her, success meant everypony benefitting, and she saw too much evidence of ponies left behind.

Perhaps it was time to take a step back—figuratively and literally. Take what worked from the past and mix it with the lessons learned from the present. But what? But how? Equestrian feudalism had once guaranteed an equal share among the peasants—and even to this day, there were still peasants, the holdouts, those who were perfectly happy, content to live this way. Ponies like Seville’s parents, the ponies of Lulamoon Hollow. Twilight, who had for most of her life championed the cause of progressive democracy, now worried about those who would be left behind. As it had been the case of Mister Mariner, and now Bourgogne Blintz, a louder voice could be purchased, a stronger, more meaningful opinion could be expressed, and the whims of democracy could be influenced by those canny enough to exploit it.

As it was with everything else in her life, Twilight Sparkle began to plan…

The Great Equestrian Bake-Off was a bit of a misnomer, Twilight felt. The name implied a bake-off for Equestrians at large, but only one tribe was allowed to compete. It was a silly thing, really, like the world championships that Equestria held for its sports teams that no other nations competed in. Yet, there was something to be said for the exclusion. With all this in mind, there were other bake-offs, other competitions.

This was, as these things tended to be, a great social filter. Those who did well here tended to do well in other places. Those who succeed here went on to face other social filters and the lucky ones found their way through those as well, until a privileged, lucky few somehow managed to navigate their way to the top of the social plateau. Celebrities rose from these ranks, accomplished chefs, success could be had here. It was a risky social filter, one with no guarantee, no promise, not even the illusion of success could be offered here, unlike in other social filters, such as culinary schools, colleges, and universities. In those places, you had reasonable assurances of success, but failure still happened. Not everypony was a success.

Something had to be done about those left behind.

Twilight studied the faces of those around her, trying to read them, trying to understand them. Every life was a story waiting to be read, to be understood. With every story, there was a lesson to be learned, with every parable, an outcome from which wisdom could be gained. As a princess, as a compassionate equine, Twilight could not ignore these stories. She was a public servant, and as such, she owed these ponies the very best that she could give them.

What did Pinkie Pie want from this, Twilight wondered. She had quit her job—a job that she had worked for as long as Twilight had known her. This job was Pinkie’s identity in the community—for many, she was the personality of Sugarcube Corner. She was synonymous with the sweet treats that could be had there. But Pinkie Pie had walked away from that—she had turned away from her public identity to do what, exactly?

A midlife crisis didn’t have to make sense. Her brother, Shining Armor, he’d been having a midlife crisis for quite some time. Several years in fact, if one believed Cadance. But all of that had changed—quite recently in fact—and Shining Armor now had his head screwed on straight. Of course, this was an extreme example, and various midlife crises could not be fixed with the same method.

Twilight was uncertain of how to help her friend, but she was open to possibilities.

“Pinkie’s nervous.”

“How can you tell, Applejack?” Distracted from her thoughts, Twilight focused on the sturdy, observant apple farmer. “She’s hiding it well.”

“That’s the whole point, Twi. She has to be hiding it. Nopony can be that calm at a moment like this. Keep your eyes peeled for signs of trouble. Seville’s roaming the floor and doing his job, so it is up to us to keep an eye on Pinkie. Come on, they’re opening the catwalks, let’s go.”

The catwalks had strict rules, the most important being to stay within the rails. Nothing could be dropped into the food below. These elevated walkways were some kind of see through floor that wasn’t glass, but was crystal clear, so that the kitchen cubicles below could be seen. For many, walking on the seemingly invisible walkway was nerve wracking, and quite a few ponies hesitated with each step. The grid of pathways allowed a spectator to have complete and total access, a bird’s eye view of everything.

It was a marvel.

When they found Pinkie Pie, she was just waiting for the bell to ring. She bounced in place, flexing her knees, and her humming rose up to be heard in the catwalks above. Upon her head was an immaculately white chef’s toque—a toque blanche, as it was known. Pinkie Pie had said that it had exactly one-hundred pleats, making it a real chef’s toque. Again, Twilight found herself thinking about how hats made a pony into something else.

Pinkie Pie, who took hardly anything serious, was a stickler about her toque.

Her riotous pink curls were contained in a fishnet and her pink pelt was gleaming. Twilight had scrubbed her and brushed her this morning, leaving the pink pony at peak perfection. Alas, poor Pinkie was just as much on display as her food was, and so she had to dress to impress.

“She’s purty, like that, ain’t she Twi.”

Come again?” Distracted, Twilight focused herself and placed her attention upon Applejack.

“She’s purty. Ya c’ain’t have no skinny chef. It ain’t right. Pinkie’s like Mrs. Cake… she’s filled out over the years. Pinkie worries if’n she’s beautiful and really, it’s all a matter of what’s flatterin’. When she’s got on her chef’s whites or she’s all dressed up like this, all that pudge is an asset. She’s absolutely smashing… a mare in her prime, doing what she’s meant to do. All that chub makes everything look right. And she’s a stunner. Every mare has a secret beauty to her. Rarity talks about it all the time. She won’t shut up about it.”

Lips pressing into a tight, firm line, Twilight looked down and gave thought to what Applejack had just said. Down below, Pinkie Pie waved and Twilight waved back, trying to send as much well-wishing as equinely possible with the gesture. Perhaps sensing a beginning, Pinkie Pie slipped into her white coat and then stood there, looking resplendent.

Others were doing the same. Jackets were put on. Toques were adjusted to jaunty angles. It was like watching pegasus ponies prepare for a derby—but different. Down below, one stallion was crying and desperately trying to pull himself together. Twilight smiled down at him, but he didn’t seem to notice. Cameras rolled along on miniature train tracks, a frantic last minute rush to get into position for filming.

Above the crying stallion’s cubical, a unicorn mare comforted a somewhat weepy pegasus filly who reached out for the pony down below. The drama of it all, the sheer spectacle of everything hit Twilight, and she found herself in an odd emotional state that she had no words to describe. Thousands of stories were all unfolding at once and each would reach a different outcome all while sharing one common event.

For some, this was their one shot at some success, no doubt. A chance to be noticed. A means to get ahead. And it was all coming to an end. This was the final bake-off of its kind. The hope that it nurtured, the chance of a better future, would come to an end with it. Staring down at the ponies below, Twilight could not help but feel that it was rather gross and unfair.

“Ponies…” The buttery, silky, seductive voice of Bundt Buttercream could be heard over the public announcement system. It was, as far as voices went, pure desire given sound, something to whet one’s appetite. The only voice that rivaled it was Gosling’s.

Twilight shivered at the idea of the two of them working together; Equestria would collapse into a quivering heap, a puddle of sexual bliss. The mere thought of it caused her wingpits to go damp and her feathers suddenly felt hot and far too itchy against her sides.

“It is time to begin the qualifications,” Miss Buttercream continued, her voice penetrating every ear, sliding in and slipping out, a veritable orgy of aural sex, of which Twilight found herself a participant. “Since this is our final gathering, let’s make this memorable. Be good sports. Be gracious to one another. Remember, if you will, the two Elements that represent us, our champions… who just so happen to be in attendance with us. Laughter and Honesty. Ladies and fellas… begin baking! Make every moment matter!”

A frenetic reaction took place below and a flurry of activity broke out. From this reaction came a swell of sound, a crushing wave that deafened Twilight for a moment. Tension filled the air, a sensation every bit as electric as watching the Wonderbolts defy death yet again. Twilight felt a prickle along her spine and she spread her front hooves wide so that she could have a better, unobstructed view of Pinkie down below.

“She’s doing her lemon zinger cake,” Applejack remarked.

The mere mention of it caused Twilight’s mouth to water in the worst possible way. Pinkie Pie’s lemon pound cake was… well… there were no words in any imagined language to describe it. It was sinfully decadent and showed that, even with a simple pound cake, greatness could be achieved. It was a signature treat, something that Princess Celestia came to Ponyville and stood in line with other ponies to purchase.

“The judges won’t know what hit’em.” Applejack’s nose was almost touching the see-through floor. “Pinkie Pie uses that exotic lemon liqueur that comes from some island whose name I can’t pronounce without looking a fool. I swear to the alicorns, that stuff smells like bottled sunshine. Look, Twi. Her tongue’s already out.”

Indeed it was. Pinkie’s tongue lolled out of the corner of her mouth as she laid out her ingredients in a neat, orderly row, with the wet stuff in one area and the dry stuff in another. A slice of lemon zinger cake sounded good right about now. The lemony tartness followed by the explosion of sweetness, and the glaze… the glaze. Twilight’s eyes glazed over just thinking about the glaze. Licking the spoon—and the bowl—was a sweet, sticky treat reserved for the most special of friends.

Why did this have to be so tense?

It was just baking.

Every muscle in Twilight’s body telegraphed panic through her nerves and these messages jolted her brain. Like Applejack, and so many other ponies around her, her nose was almost touching the floor. The clear material, whatever it was, fogged a little with each breath. Below, Pinkie worked with a surgeon’s careful grace.

“You know, I thought Pinkie was crazy adding sour cream to a pound cake, but she proved me wrong. This was afore you came to town, Twi. I thought that mare was crazy.”

Twilight tried not to think too hard about the caloric density of Pinkie Pie’s pound cakes.

A trolley mounted camera made a pass and Twilight watched as it crept by on rails. No expense had been spared to make this event as memorable as possible. She could feel the love, as evidenced by the planning—planning done in part by Bourgogne Blintz. While her words left much to be desired, her actions had a lot to say. The sheer level of organisation she brought to this event was staggering and Twilight could not help but feel a grudging sense of respect. Great good could be accomplished with Bourgogne Blintz—but first she would have to come around to a better way of doing things.

For some reason, Twilight thought of Starlight.

“Candied lemon peel,” said Applejack, jarring Twilight from her thoughts. “Pinkie Pie makes those herself. It takes about a year or so before they’re just right. You’d never know it, but Pinkie Pie is a powerfully patient pony. She makes her own candied fruit bits, everything from apples to pineapples, and almost all of it takes about a year or so to cure just the way she likes it. She moves it around from place to place, takin’ into account the humidity and what not. She borrows my cellar sometimes, when the conditions are just right.”

“She what?” Twilight cast a sidelong incredulous glance at her friend.

“It’s true, every word.” Applejack crossed her heart with her hoof.

Though she could not say why, Twilight found that she was miffed and just a little bit put out that she was so unaware of Pinkie’s secrets, but Applejack treated them as common knowledge. Pinkie’s secrets were worth knowing and Twilight made a mental note to give the pink pony a thorough—interrogation was too harsh a word, but Twilight was going to risk investigating Pinkie Pie once more.

Hopefully, no furniture moving wagons would lose their payload.

“Princess Twilight Sparkle is in attendance with us,” Bundt Buttercream’s voice said over the public announcement system. “She was actually supposed to be the announcer. Right now, you’d be hearing her lovely voice speaking to all of you, but the plan changed at the last minute. Instead of being locked up in the announcer’s booth and kept away from all of you, she is free to roam the floor and speak to all of you. Please, seek her out. Take a moment to chat her up. Tell her what this means to you. Share your experiences with her. I am positive that the Princess of Friendship would love to learn more about earth pony culture. She’s really friendly and approachable—”

The announcement cut out with a distorted squelch of feedback.

Sensing trouble of the worst sort, Twilight lifted her head and her ears pricked, aggressive. She pawed the catwalk with one front hoof, her wings flared outwards, and her tail flicked, annoyed. If Bundt Buttercream had just been fired, there would be… well, Twilight wasn’t sure what there would be, but she doubted it would be pleasant. There would be… what was it that Applejack called it? A reckoning. If Bourgogne Blintz had just fired a pregnant mare… ooooh! The very thought chapped Twilight’s hide and she immediately begin to think of all the ways to make this right. Starting with hiring Bundt Buttercream in some kind of professional capacity. Some manner of public relations or public outreach position.

Twilight Sparkle was now a peeved pony princess.

Author's Note

Opening volley of shots exchanged...

Chapter 10

In baking, some things could not be hurried and Twilight saw the lull as an excellent time to check up on the Bundt Buttercream situation. Even Applejack agreed that something wasn’t quite right and that somepony (that somepony being Twilight in this instance) needed to get to the bottom of what was going on. The lemon zinger cake had just been put into the oven and near as Twilight could tell, Pinkie Pie seemed just fine.

Which meant that Twilight had at least an hour to get down to the bottom of things.

Her rising levels of annoyance concerned her; Twilight could feel the pressure building and she could sense that events were starting to take on a life of their own. There was chaos here, both within and without. Mistakes were about to be made, she could sense them lurking. Bourgogne Blintz might have just made one. Twilight Sparkle knew she might have made a mistake or two already and was fearful of making more. Each mistake made would only further cause the developing situation to spiral out of control. Before departing, Twilight reminded herself that Bourgogne Blintz was not her enemy—she was just very, very difficult to make friends with at the moment. Challenging, even.

Fearing treachery, Twilight winked away in a magenta flash.

The command center, abuzz with activity, came to an abrupt halt when Twilight appeared in their midst. Many stared, wide-eyed, fearful, because the sudden appearance of an alicorn tended to be cause for alarm. As the aetherfire flickered and faded around Twilight, she put on her best ‘concerned princess’ face.

“Where is Miss Blintz?” she demanded in a firm, calm voice.

Not one pony said anything—nopony dared—but many of them pointed at a heavy soundproof door. A few began to recover and they hurried away about their business, heads down, tails between their legs, ears pinned back, and moving about in the most submissive manner possible. Seeing them, their mannerisms, Twilight remembered a time when she was like them. That time was so long ago—longer than Twilight would ever be able to say—but she kept that memory alive, fearing that she might become cold and dispassionate without it.

“I’m sorry if I startled you. Please, go about your business. The show must go on, ponies!”

She waited, calm, and reassurance rippled through the crowd. A few smiled. Ears rose. Tails untucked. Heads lifted. She stood, unmoving, unwilling to leave until she was assured that everypony was okay. Twilight made it a point to smile back at them and she even waved at a few holdouts that were slow to recover.

When at last things seemed mostly normal, Twilight strode to the soundproof door.

“—we apologise for the interruption, but our announcer’s water just broke and she—”

These words faded into nothingness while Twilight stood in the doorway. Miss Blintz turned off the microphone, flipped several more switches with her hoof, and then glared at Twilight in a fearful, angry way. This did not last long though, as Miss Blintz recovered and went on the offensive before Twilight said anything.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” Miss Blintz’s eyes narrowed as her nostrils grew wide. “How dare you disrupt me while I am working!”

“Miss Buttercream’s water broke?” Twilight’s lips pressed tight together as her jaw muscles clenched.

“Leave, at once!” Miss Blintz demanded.

“Leave, you say? Shall I go check on Miss Buttercream, perhaps? I could leave right now. Which hospital did she go to?” When Miss Blintz started to say something, Twilight offered up a friendly warning: “Choose your next words carefully, Miss Blintz.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” the furious earth pony mare replied. “Get out!”

“You have made a grave mistake, lying like this—”

“Is this how you rule Equestria, Princess? With threats?”

“I thought I’d try your approach at management,” Twilight replied, her natural snark bubbling out unbidden. “Before I was interrupted, I was making a statement. Here’s a threat: I’m about to go check up on Miss Buttercream. And if I find so much as a patch of hair ruffled on her, if she is hurt in any way, shape, or form… or if your actions cause any sort of distress that endangers her foals… I will end you. I have ended far worse than you. You pose no significant threat to me whatsoever, but I will not allow you to do any harm to my subjects. Are we understood?”

Miss Blintz grumbled something unintelligible.

“Yes or no. Are we understood?” Twilight, readying her magic, prepared to flip on all of the right switches on the microphone and the soundboard.

“Understood,” Miss Blintz growled. “Now get out!”

“Gladly,” Twilight replied, bowing her head. “Have a pleasant day!”

Then, without further ado, Twilight vanished.

Berating herself beneath her breath, Twilight Sparkle needed to work on her aim. She had concentrated upon Bundt Buttercream just before winking, but had missed her mark by a considerable distance. Some of the ponies on the platform spooked and scattered, startled by her sudden appearance. She wanted to comfort them—she did, really—but the sight of Bundt Buttercream sitting atop her suitcase thoroughly unnerved poor Twilight.

She marched through the panicked crowd, her tunnel vision only allowing her to see one thing. A scorching wind blew dust and sunlight felt like arrows upon her skin. It had to be more than one-hundred and ten degrees outside and Twilight immediately began to worry for Miss Buttercream’s well-being in this heat.

“I got fired,” Miss Buttercream said to Twilight. “It’s fine though. I kinda wanted it to happen. After I met you and your friends… well, it was more about what I said, that part about whoring myself out. But you and your friends and the good you do. I’m really upset right now and my feelings are all over the place. I left the porn biz so I could raise my foals right, but then I said it myself, I was still whoring myself out. And so I tried to do the right thing, even though it was hard. Now look at me.”

Twilight came to a halt beside the forlorn mare sitting on her suitcase, lowered her head, and looked her in the eye. “Doing the right thing is never easy and I admire you for what you’ve done.”

“Really?”

“I wouldn’t say it, otherwise.”

“You and your friends were so decent,” Miss Buttercream said. “I wasn’t groped, treated as the entertainment, or shamed for what I’ve done. Nopony put me down. Seville, that reporter, he treated me with decency and respect. I looked back on all of it, and my own words about whoring myself out got to me. I woke up this morning and decided that I’d do better… but now, I am ashamed to admit, I’m having some second thoughts. I don’t want to get desperate again. I don’t want to go back to porn work to pay the bills. I’m already feeling the pinch.”

This only told Twilight what she already knew: she had amazing friends.

“How would you like a job?” Twilight asked, without once thinking of the ramifications of having a porn starlet in her employ. She thought about what Miss Blintz had said, about Miss Buttercream’s water breaking, which left her in an irked state. “You did right, even though you knew it might cost you. That’s the kind of pony I want working for me.”

“Would I need to move to Ponyville?”

Chewing on her bottom lip, Twilight gave this some thought. “No,” she said at last, “I am in need of agents in other cities. Princess Celestia has been pressuring me to step up my outreach efforts. I don’t have a job description for you, not just yet. Those in my employ are paid a fair wage, but much is demanded of them. I’ll confess, the workload is exceptional. It’s not easy making the world a better place, Miss Buttercream.”

“I’m about to pop and you’re offering me a job right when I might not be able to work.”

Twilight raised a wing to shield her face from the sun, which was doing its best to sap the life force from her bones. She blinked a few times, squinted, and gave thought to everything that had just happened. “Job security is one of the many causes I champion. Prince Gosling and I, we work hard on labour reforms. Hiring you in your condition allows me to put what I propose into practice. It is beneficial for me and my goals to take advantage of the situation and what it has to offer.”

“You’re a lot more honest than Bourgogne,” Miss Buttercream remarked as she shifted her bulk atop her suitcase in a vain attempt to get comfortable. “That’s a level of exploitation I can live with. If I said yes, when would I start?”

“Right now,” Twilight replied without a second’s hesitation. “I would need you to return with me. Miss Blintz told everypony your water broke. Now, let me make this clear. We’re not going to confront her or antagonise her. Not directly, anyhow. But I want ponies to see that what she said wasn’t true. I don’t want to ruin the bake-off for everypony, but Miss Blintz cannot be allowed to get away with her actions.”

“You’ll protect me?” Miss Buttercream, also assaulted by sunlight, squinted at Twilight. “I’m barred from the premises. She told me that if I stuck around, she’d have me escorted away by security and that if I caused her problems, she’d have me roughed up.”

Twilight’s ears swiveled forwards and after a second of divination, she knew that Miss Buttercream wasn’t lying. There was no indication in the slightest of dishonesty or of even stretching the truth. Either this mare was an accomplished liar with magical means to defeat Twilight’s divinations, or she had told the truth. As was so often the case, Twilight sided with simplicity.

The truth was awful.

Bourgogne Blintz needed to be dealt with, but not in a way that disrupted what might just be the earth ponies’ final glory. They needed this and Twilight knew it. Seville’s article would be hitting the papers, probably in the morning edition tomorrow. With the front page assault and the visible presence of Bundt Buttercream, Bourgogne Blintz’s credibility would be shredded, which is just what Twilight needed to happen.

“You’ll be safe.” Twilight smiled a forced smile and she stuffed her simmering anger into a mental crevice. Now was the time to be a princess, not a mare. It was time to put on a good show for her subjects—while somehow managing to ensure that her subjects continued to have a good time. “So, what do you say, Miss Buttercream?”

“I’m in,” Bundt replied with a half-shrug. “If only to see Miss Blintz get her comeuppance. I lost my hotel room. Also… I need to pee. It’s why I can’t sit still. It’s practically a potty emergency.”

“Say no more!” Grinning from ear to ear, with her depression now on the ropes and pleading for mercy, Twilight yanked a startled, squeaking Bundt Buttercream into the aether with her while focusing her thoughts upon a restroom.

Applejack wasn’t phased in the slightest when the two mares appeared beside her, with one of them grumbling about no rooms being available. She did however, cast a sidelong glance at the pale mossy green earth pony mare while making a face that was distinctly Applejackian in nature, an expression with exquisite eyebrow placement and fine mouth-muscle control.

“Howdy,” she said to the pregnant mare who immediately sat down upon the clear floor of the catwalk.

“No room?” Twilight stomped one hoof and caused the catwalk to wobble alarmingly. “That room was just checked out of not even a half-an-hour ago! No room! Argh!” Then, after a deep, calming breath, “How’s Pinkie doing?”

“I think she’s bored,” Applejack replied.

“Applejack… this is my new assistant. If security happens to come along and hassle her while I’m not around, you have my permission to do… well… you can do whatever needs to be done but try not to hurt the security too badly, okay? They’re just doing their jobs and we don’t need an incident.”

“Broken knees and hobbled fetlocks, gotcha.”

Twilight almost said something, but decided to believe that Applejack was being funny.

Down below, Pinkie Pie squinted into the oven, peering at the cake within with one weathered eye. Twilight took a few deep breaths to calm herself, while thinking about depression. With her blood singing like this and the adrenaline making her ears buzz, she was feeling a whole lot better about things in general. It troubled her, how conflict made everything better, how she needed a struggle in her life.

“I’m proud of you, Twi.”

Confused, Twilight’s head tilted off to one side and she gave Applejack a quizzical expression in response. “You are?”

“Why, yes I am.” The apple farmer took a moment to adjust her hat and then she flashed Twilight a grin.

When Applejack made no attempt to explain, Twilight’s lips puckered into something that was almost a pout. She was stuck trying to figure it out on her own, it seemed. She watched as Applejack slipped a foreleg around Bundt’s withers and then sat down beside her. Hot, itchy, still sweaty from her brief exposure to the out-of-doors, Twilight allowed herself a moment to feel good about what she had done. When she did so, her contorted, tense muzzle and irked expression softened into a smile.

It was time to enjoy the show, if such a thing were still possible.

Author's Note

Twilight Sparkle tries to get a room with a pornstar.... :trollestia:

Chapter 11

Each minute that passed was almost painful torture. Pinkie Pie was glazing her lemon zinger cake; a complicated job that for most, wasn’t complicated at all, but the pink pony’s methods were exquisite. She poked a long wooden kebab stick down into the cracks and crevices found upon the surface of the lemon zinger cake, so that the sweet, sticky glaze could penetrate to the very deepest depths, leading to random mouthfuls of moist, gooey sweetness. These nooks and crannies were worth exploring with one’s tongue and when Twilight thought about doing so, she became rather flustered, all things considered.

Thoughts of tongue-probing into moist, sticky places were far too lewd to bear.

“Ya know, Pinkie Pie’s really leveled off once she started gettin’ laid all regular like,” Applejack remarked. “All that manic energy from celibacy built up and turned into craziness. I must confess, she was unbearable to live with.” Then, mere seconds after her second statement, she seemed to freeze.

Twilight’s thoughts took off, all of them at once, very much like a flock of startled birds. A great many things happened inside of her head, each of them competing, struggling, trying to rise to the top of the mental heap. Applejack was cringing now, doing her best to avoid Twilight’s gaze. Bundt sat in the middle, her eyes darting back and forth between the two friends and her mouth hanging open from confusion in the cutest way possible.

“Dagnabbit, I’ve got so used to just sayin’ whate’er just so happens to be on my mind,” the apple farmer muttered. She sighed, a forlorn sound, and did her best to avoid looking at Twilight.

“Is that”—Twilight licked her lips, which were now as dry as the Las Pegasus sands—“is that what is wrong with me?”

When Applejack did not respond, Twilight plowed onward and poured her heart out to her friend. “I’m still adjusting to having a body again. I was gone for so long that when I came back to it, I really noticed how different it was. I wasn’t a unicorn with wings… I was something else. There is so much about it that doesn’t make sense to me, Applejack.”

“Twi…” Applejack took a deep breath and seemed to commit herself to answering, but was beaten to the punch by Bundt, who said:

“If I don’t get a bit of coochy-smooching on a regular basis, I lose my mind and act a fool.”

The mere act of breathing almost caused Twilight to choke and she sputtered while stars danced in her vision. Applejack heaved a sigh, this one more resigned. The flock of birds that was Twilight’s thoughts crapped everywhere all at once, leaving her mind a dirty place indeed. One thought stood out among the others, and that was the embarrassing discovery made when exploring her inner pegasus: she had clucked during that dreadful moment, because she was somehow a hen deep down inside.

“Twi, I pushed you hard in the right direction, but I wanted you to make the discovery yourself.” Applejack’s eyes were locked upon Pinkie Pie who was still glazing her lemon zinger cake. “We all suspected it. I mean, Cadance and I, in those letters we exchanged, I brought up how much Princess Celestia has changed since she, uh, well, you know… since she started getting serviced on a regular basis. It is a topic of much discussion among us earth ponies, on account of how we know.”

“It sure is,” Bundt agreed, her head bobbing. “Princess Celestia is like a totally different mare now than how she was when I was a filly. I met her once, with Miss Blintz. Just a few months ago, actually. She really annoyed Miss Blintz because she was more focused on my big belly than anything that Miss Blintz had to say. She’s a really nice princess. She made me feel special.”

A tiny, curling tendril of chaos encircled Twilight’s heart…

She began to wonder if her so-called depression was more than just mere depression. Twilight focused on breathing and remaining calm, just as Cadance had taught her. More and more she realised, this body was a stranger to her; the changes were far more profound than mere wings. Lifting one hoof, she flipped it over and began to examine her frog, feeling more and more as though she was a stranger inhabiting this body that wasn’t entirely hers.

Perhaps that was the point: this body wasn’t hers—an alicorn was the ultimate public servant with three tribes inhabiting one body. But she had neglected one third of herself, or perhaps one fourth of herself, depending upon the view of whether or not an alicorn was a fourth, separate tribe unto itself.

The pull of memory took her to dark places—Skyreach being one of them. How long had she roamed those halls? She had been there when the facility was new, when it was just being constructed, and she had been there during its reawakening upon Spear Breaker’s arrival. Not wanting to remember, Twilight jerked her mind into the present and blinked away the ink threatening to overtake her eyes.

She had re-lived those mistakes enough already.

“Please, finish up, ponies. Fifteen minutes until judgment.” The announcer sounded like a colt who had just been violently mugged and left for dead by puberty. His voice cracked with almost every word and he was tragically ill-suited for public address. It was jarring enough to pull Twilight from her thoughts and cause her to become thoroughly distracted. “My name is DJ Double Dip and I’ve been asked to take over announcing duties. Hello, ladies!”

Tilting and turning her head, Twilight glared in annoyance at the nearest loudspeaker.

“Oh, poor Double…” Warm, sincere concern could be seen on Bundt’s face and her ears rose and fell with each breath she took. “That poor colt seems to think he has a voice that makes mares melt. He wants to be a DJ and a porn narrator—”

Applejack butted in to say, “Porn has narration?”

“No,” Bundt replied, “but Double seems to believe that porn needs narration. Nopony can seem to change his mind. I only hired him because he’s so good at setting up sound systems. He’s gifted at that. I think I made a mistake though, because now he seems to think he has porn industry cred.”

Twilight longed to say something about the lives of common ponies, but held her tongue.

Pinkie Pie’s kitchen cubicle was somehow immaculately clean. There were dirty dishes waiting to be carted away, sure, but the countertop had not a speck of flour and nothing was a sticky mess. At the moment, the pink pony was gabbing away at a trolley-mounted camera that had stopped in front of her cubicle.

There was a real tension in the air now, something palpable. Dreams were about to be realised or crushed. Many would not qualify. Those who did qualify might not make it to the third day. Twilight, looking down from the catwalk, could not help but think that this bake-off was a reflection of Equestria at large: so much talent, so much promise, but only a few would rise to the top. Not everypony could be a winner, and she understood the need to weed out mediocrity so that the truly exceptional could shine. What of those who failed to make the cut?

Here, the losers went home sad; in Equestria, they were condemned to poverty or worse.

Twilight felt the pressure—it pressed in from all sides and made it difficult to breathe, a curious psychosomatic reaction. The fear, the suffering, the worry, the distress, all of it became a physical sensation that pressed tight upon her, bearing her down. She had felt this before, but never quite like this. Her connection to other ponies had changed, or it had grown stronger perhaps. Cadance spoke sometimes of the difficulty of being an empath and it was only now that Twilight truly began to understand.

One question rose in Twilight’s mind: which part of her gave her this connection to others?

A griffon approached, a griffon with a curious prosthetic theatrical mustache. Gustave le Grand was followed by a gaggle of judges, and they stopped just a few cubicles away from Pinkie’s. Twilight had mixed feelings about celebrity judges, fearing they had celebrity biases and exotic tastes, but she also understood that they were imminently qualified to judge food. She had met Gustave le Grand several times now and she was always amused by his antics.

He was close now, just five cubicles away from Pinkie’s.

“Gustave le Grand!” Pinkie Pie said while rising into a bipedal stance. “We meet again!”

The griffon remained entirely professional and remained reserved in the face of Pinkie Pie’s theatrics. A dozen judges and critics crowded behind him while he examined Pinkie Pie’s lemon zinger cake. The griffon tilted his head to one side, then the other, then back again. Reaching up with his talons, he scratched his neck while clearing his throat.

“A lemon cake?” The griffon blinked. “A rather humble lemon cake, yez? Eet eez… quite plain looking. Not much for prezentation.”

“Not just any lemon cake, but the best lemon cake you will ever eat,” Pinkie replied, bubbling over with her own natural confidence. “It doesn’t need to look snazzy, my lemon zinger cake is perfectly capable of speaking for itself.”

“Zat eez a bold claim, Mizz Pie.”

“Have some.” Pinkie Pie, still standing on her hind legs, gestured at the cake on the counter with her right front hoof.

“Eet eez quite ztrange that a Pie would zerve me cake,” Gustave said to Pinkie while stroking his false-mustache.

“I hold no bigotry towards my baked goods,” Pinkie replied, and this got the gaggle of judges giggling. “The Royal Pony Sisters though…” Her words faded into a soft chuckle that made her jiggle beneath her white jacket.

“Arroz Amandine!” Gustave snapped his talons. “Begin zee inzpection.”

A stern, hard-faced unicorn mare brandishing a sharp knife emerged from the gaggle and she moved forward to do Gustave’s bidding. Lowering her head, she examined the cake from countertop level, turned the plate around a few times to see it from different angles, and then leaning in a little closer, she sniffed.

“Es solo una tarta de limón,” the hard-faced mare said while making a few quick cuts with her knife. When cut open, the cake bled out gooey glaze and the mare jerked her head back in surprise. “¡Este pastel sangra!”

“Could we speak something other than burro!” one of the judges snapped. “This is the Great Equestrian Bake-Off. Not the burro bake-off. I didn’t come here to sample refried beans and peasant corn tortillas.”

Up on the catwalk, Twilight wore an an annoyed scowl.

Ignoring her fellow judge, Arroz Amandine sniffed the cake again, examined a sliced off sliver, and gave the cake itself a squeeze. More gooey lemon ooze dribbled out and she scraped some up upon her knife to have a better look at it. Twilight understood that the unicorn mare was taking a sort of scientific approach, and wondered what the mare might have learned from her thorough examination. What data was she gathering?

The mare popped a sliver into her mouth and Twilight, tense with anticipation, watched as the mare succumbed to bliss. Her knees wobbled and her front legs actually banged together. Ears went limp, eyes closed, and the stiffness of her spine took a well deserved vacation. When she swallowed, her whole body shiver-shuddered.

“You swallowed,” an earth pony mare said to Arroz Amandine. “We’re supposed to spit, you know that. We have thousands of entries to sample.”

“You try spitting this out.” Arroz Amandine, no longer a hard-faced mare, but more of a melted-butter mare, jammed a sliver of cake into the mouth of the mare who chastised her.

The effect was immediate and spectacular: she melted.

Pinkie Pie, looking rather pleased with herself, bounced in place, her padded frame wiggling with her every movement. She watched as more of the judges sampled her cake and Twilight, watching from the catwalk, noted that nopony spat out their tiny bite of cake. She took this as a good sign, but like Pinkie, tensed up when Gustave le Grand shoved everypony aside to try a bite himself.

“My cake has a lot to say today,” said Pinkie Pie while the griffon popped a sliver of cake into his beak.

The griffon, like the rest of the judges, shared a similar reaction. He stood with his eyes closed, his claws clicking upon the floor, and his tail formed a curious question mark behind him. Arroz Amandine, after glancing around with shifty eyes, ate another sliver when she thought nopony was looking. But Twilight saw it though, and she took it as a promising sign that Pinkie would qualify. A humble lemon cake prepared to perfection was a pretty good opener, and Twilight wondered what else Pinkie Pie had planned to wow the judges.

When Gustave recovered from the delicious sliver of cake, a silent conversation seemed to take place with the judges. Each of them looked at one another, nodded, and when all of them seemed to reach some sort of agreement, the ridiculously mustached griffon turned to face Pinkie Pie.

“Plain prezentation,” he said while pulling out a blue token from a pocket of his chef’s whites. “But extraordinary cake. Fifty pointz for Pinkie Pie.”

Almost frantic with tension, Twilight tugged on Applejack’s leg and squeezed her friend’s fetlock in her own. “Is that good or bad? It’s just fifty points. Did Pinkie qualify? Is everything okay?”

“If you get points, you qualify.” Applejack turned to look Twilight in the eye. “You start with either twenty-five, fifty, seventy-five, or a hundred points. Pinkie done got herself a middle-of-the-road opener, which ain’t bad. I’m pretty certain that she knew that she’d qualify with that there cake of hers and I reckon she has a plan to make up for more points later. There’s another contest planned for today, but near as I can tell, nopony knows what it is just yet.”

“So Pinkie Pie… she took a safe bet?”

“Yeah, Twi. Exactly.”

“Smart.”

“Pinkie is smarter than ponies give her credit for.” Applejack pulled her leg free from Twilight’s iron grip. “Now… ‘bout that leftover cake, Twilight.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll flip you for it,” Applejack offered, followed by a quick flick of her orange tongue over her lips, “but if’n you land on your head it ain’t my fault.”

Author's Note

:ajsmug: - "I'll flip you for it..."

Chapter 13

The bathroom tiles felt remarkably cool against her hot, almost feverish skin, and Twilight shivered a bit as she spread out over the floor. So much had happened in such a short span of time. If Twilight had a bit more presence of mind, she might have realised that she was experiencing time again and felt better about it, but this fact escaped her notice. The ennui, the crushing, crippling sense of boredom that was the bane of her existence had returned, only now, she was somewhat more aware of the fact that it wasn’t boredom at all—but it sure felt that way.

Tribalism—actual honest-to-alicorns tribalism—had just taken place and she had failed to notice right up to the point where it was impossible to ignore. She, Twilight Sparkle, with her fine mind, had been stupid and utterly oblivious; at least, it sure felt that way. Even worse, it felt as though she had let her friends down. At a moment when she should have been protecting them, standing up for them, she hadn’t even known that there was trouble. Even worse, she had fled the scene and this complicated things in the most horrendous way. Now, she had to work through hundreds of imagined scenarios in her head before she could face her friends again, and doing so would be torture.

Tears flowed, leaving her cheeks moistened and the tiles damp. As bad as everything was, she wasn’t exactly crying or sobbing—which was terrible. The slow leak of tears did nothing, it brought no satisfaction, no catharsis, and she desperately needed some means of release. But the sobs, no matter how much she desired them, would not come. She felt too pathetic, too weary to sob, and so everything remained bottled up inside, trapped by some dreadful mental cork that she could not pop.

When her barrel began to hitch in an unbearable way, and the sobs would not come, she wished that Spike was with her. Rolling over onto her back, her legs all askew, she thought of Spike, she thought of C.H.O.M.P., and she wondered if she was oblivious to some terrible suffering that Spike endured as a dragon living in pony society. The thought was almost too much to bear. Why did Spike need a support group? Was she not supporting him? It was possible. She was that oblivious and there was undeniable proof.

Suddenly, there was a paper pony looking down at her, and Twilight blinked a few times, startled to see herself. What did one say to one’s self during a moment like this? She had shown up unannounced, unwanted, and Twilight was in no mood to talk to herself. Yet here she was, facing herself down, a pony with two distinct parts.

Twilight sniffled and tried to make her barrel stop hitching, all while blinking up at herself. “I sent you away. You’re the sum of my experiences when I wasn’t me, but somepony else. In this body, I want my experiences to be my own. There are things I want to feel and have happen on my own. As me. Go away!”

The paper pony’s face crinkled and the rustle-crackle of stiff, dry paper filled the bathroom. Paper wings with paper feathers twitched against hard paper sides. The faint hint of ink could be seen flowing through a paper horn and two eyes made of bright, glossy black ink blinked down at Twilight on the floor.

“But I have information… I have knowledge that is relevant to the situation and I—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Twilight said to herself, “it’s not my knowledge. It’s not my wisdom. That’s why you are you and I am me. We’re not the same pony, you and I. Now go away!”

“Thousands of years of knowledge, the sum of which is immeasurable—”

“Not my knowledge.” Twilight cut herself off for a moment and considered. “Well, maybe it is, I was there after all, but this body wasn’t. Now go away! We spent thousands of years together, you and I, and now I want some time to be me again! Just me! Not us, not you, not Eternity, just me! Little confused Twilight who is still trying to figure out this awful, terrible, horrible, no-good world!”

“Twilight, you can’t just trim off thousands of years of experience, knowledge, and wisdom. You need to learn to accept me—”

“No!” Twilight shrieked while her body spasmed. “You’re a book I haven’t read yet! I haven’t looked ahead! As a book, you will remain closed! If I let too much of you into my head, I’ll never be normal again! Now go away and leave me alone!”

With the rustle of parchment, the paper pony vanished, leaving flesh and blood Twilight to wallow in her misery.

Twilight’s body seemed determined to burn up from within. She was hot all over, with an itchy prickle that was almost too much to bear. So hot was she in fact, that she had to keep rolling over the tile floor to find new cool spots, because if she lay in one spot for too long, the floor turned too warm for comfort.

There were moments when she had tried to get in touch with her inner earth pony. All that time spent with Maud and learning how to tap into earth pony magic, how to reach deep into the earth and touch the fiery places—but that was magic. It was easier, in some ways, to try and explore magic, but there was some fundamental aspect of herself that she had neglected. She had learned how to tap into vast reserves of colossal strength—but other, more vital aspects were still unknown.

As was often the case in times of trouble, Twilight thought of Discord. Once, long ago, when they weren’t quite friends yet, Discord had done terrible things. He had stolen her horn—not just her horn, but Rarity’s as well. From Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy, he took their wings. But from Applejack and Pinkie Pie? Nothing was taken. Nothing within them was seen as threatening enough to take—and so it was with earth ponies at large. Overlooked and uninteresting. It was bad enough that Discord held this position—but far, far worse that Twilight operated under similar principles. Upon gaining wings, that was all that she had focused upon, all that she recognised, the visual, external change that had been done to her body.

Her friend, Tarnish, was essentially an earth pony with a horn. To anypony looking at him, he was a freakishly tall, gangly, dark chocolate-brown unicorn—all neck and legs. But to anypony who studied magic, to anypony who understood the ebb and flow of magic itself, Tarnish was no unicorn, not even in the slightest. Alas, poor Tarnish was not well liked by his fellow unicorns and Twilight could not help but wonder if he would have spotted trouble in the diner.

Of course he would, she determined, and then he would have said something devastating, because that was the sort of pony he was. Tarnish, like so many of her friends, no longer fit the behavioural patterns of the common equine. His experiences had turned him into something else entirely. He wasn’t alone. Moondancer too, shared this extreme transformation. In fact, most of Twilight’s inner circle had been altered to some degree, though not all to such extremes.

Just as Twilight was getting into the groove of castigating herself, the bathroom door opened and Seville sauntered in. She resented him for his intrusion, but was also relieved to see him. Sprawled on the floor, her legs all askew, she did nothing to preserve her modesty. At this point, she couldn’t be bothered and wanted to feel as uncomfortable as possible, because she deserved it.

“Nice to see your mother raised you right,” she grumbled and her words caused his ears to twitch. “Just barge in while a mare is in the bathroom, why don’t ya?”

“Look, I got picked to come up here and look after you, and Pinkie Pie made me Pinkie Pie swear that I would let myself into the bathroom. She didn’t want me getting stuck on the other side of the door due to my noble intentions.”

Twilight started to retort, but the words died on the tip of her tongue. Poor Seville had no choice but to face an awkward situation. Pinkie Pie had a way of pressuring others to do her bidding. What of Applejack? What was her part in this? What might she have said to Seville? She was sprawled out on the bathroom floor, wallowing in her own self-pity, and here he was, the noble reporter-errant come to check up on her.

With no words to be said, Twilight whinnied and got one in return from Seville.

He sat down beside her, close enough so that Twilight could feel the heat from his body. Squirming, she thought about wiggling away and was just about to do so when Seville grabbed her. There was a scramble as he tried to pull her closer and Twilight remembered to be as gentle as possible in her efforts to escape. Her halfhearted attempts to wriggle free only served to somehow make her seem even more pathetic and after a brief struggle, she gave up so Seville could hold her.

After a few seconds, she realised the heat between them was not unpleasant. In fact, far from it. It was not the torturous experience she expected and she found herself settling against him, as awkward as it was. And it was awkward—make no mistake. The struggle to reach this point replayed in her head and she was all-too aware of the fact that parts of him had brushed up against her—troubling parts with implications that set her mind racing.

For a brief moment, all Twilight could think about was Seville having cooties.

As Seville began to stroke her neck, she shivered. Now, she felt cold; her damp, sweaty places felt chilly and clammy. Much to her own shock, she found that she wanted to rub those parts against him so she could feel his warmth. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, and her nostrils filled with his scent—a sensory experience that robbed her of willpower.

An almost sleepy sensation overcame her, leaving her eyelids heavy, and pressing her hoof against his body, she allowed it to wander, touching him, feeling him with her frog. He wasn’t like Pinkie in the slightest. Lightly muscled and of lean build, Seville had both a hardness and a softness to him. The sound of his breathing was mesmerising and his scent—his scent was growing stronger.

Feeling a hard ridge of flesh, her hoof paused and she pressed her frog against the lumpy-bumpy place. “There’s a scar,” she murmured to him, her lips every bit as thick and heavy as her eyelids.

“I got on a train with Goose,” he replied while his own hooves began to wander. “I’ve bled for what I believe in.”

“I have scars too…” For some unknown reason, this exchange was reassuring, it was comforting like nothing else. “All my friends have scars. Even Rarity. She uses makeup to hide them. Reaching out with her magic, she guided Seville’s hoof to a place just beneath her right wing where a raised crescent could be found and she felt him rubbing it. “I used to think our scars took away from us. Normal ponies, they stay safe in their cosy little towers—or houses for some… I guess. Horrific injuries are avoided. And normal ponies eschew those with scars because they are dangerous. When bad things happen, it changes a pony.”

When her hoof wandered a bit more, she found other scars, other puckers of skin. Seville had endured much for the sake of friendship, and his scars were proof. He had even thrown himself in between Gosling and a would-be assassin—taking a blow that would have most certainly been fatal to a pegasus, but as an earth pony, Seville had survived. Durable creatures, earth ponies. Stocky, hardy little equines with stout hearts.

For some reason, she thought of Maud.

“My friends and I would go out on adventures… that seemed like so long ago… we would go out and find trouble… or trouble would find us…” Twilight breathed deep of Seville’s scent and enjoyed the sensation of lightheadedness that resulted. “We’d get beaten bloody… battered… swollen noses, black eyes, contusions, lacerations, and punctures. Rarity learned how to sew us back together and she was better at stitching than any surgeon or doctor I know. But we’d come home after an adventure and we… we were the dangerous ponies that others avoided. We had scars. We left the safety of our houses and ventured into the wilds.”

“I’m a timid creature—”

“Seville, how can you say that?” Twilight pulled away so she could look Seville in the eye. “You’ve been in actual wars. You’ve been in conflicts armed with nothing but a camera. You were there when the Grittish Isles were reclaimed. The Straits of Griffonstone… how can you say that you’re timid?”

“Because I am, that’s why. It’s because I’ve been in those places that I appreciate home and never want to leave it. The world is dangerous and I’ve had bullets whizzing around me and things exploding and everything was on fire and airships were exploding and I was pretty sure the ship I was on was going to go sink too. It’s a long, long ways down to the ground when you’re that high up and there’s nowhere to run when the ship’s on fire.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she pulled Seville into an embrace, knowing that she had almost lost him before even having him. He was a bit smaller than she was, lighter, she was heavier and bulkier by far, but he was strong enough to support her. Now, it no longer mattered what might be touching between them, the awkwardness had lost its potency. For the first time, Twilight allowed it to happen without her mind running away with the implications.

Slipping her foreleg around his neck, she found another scar, a place where a bullet had exited. Closing her eyes, she rubbed her cheek against the hard angle of his jaw while allowing her underside to come completely to rest against him. No more awkward friendship hugs where she left her entire lower half a respectful, comfortable distance away. As the embrace intensified, Twilight had a troubling thought enter her mind unbidden.

As the Princess of Friendship, was love difficult for her?

Friendship was easy, but the transition into something more than friendship, love proved to be quite difficult. Was she doomed to friendship? She was aware of the jokes behind her back about her being Princess Friendzone. The knowledge stung, but there wasn’t much she could do about it, given the current state of affairs. Moving forward had been extraordinarily difficult.

Listening to the static crackle that occured between them, she murmured the words, “I don’t wanna be Princess Friendzone no more.”

Seville did not respond.

“Why haven’t you been more aggressive with me?” Twilight asked.

“I don’t follow,” he replied, confused.

“Right now, you could probably take me right here on the bathroom floor, and I’m not sure that I’d stop you.”

“Am I being blamed for something?”

Now it was Twilight’s turn to be confused. “Huh?”

“About this difficulty we seem to have in connecting… am I being blamed?”

“No!” Twilight’s eyes fluttered open and she could feel Seville’s heart thudding against his ribs.

“It’s just… a lot of ponies do blame me for not being, uh, assertive enough.”

Twilight’s own heart hammered against her ribs.

“Don’t get the wrong idea, Twilight. Nopony is telling me to, uh, well, you know. Even your mother told me to be bolder.”

Heaving a sigh, Twilight slouched against Seville. “So why haven’t you been bolder? Like right now. This is almost fronking. I mean, we’re exchanging cooties right now.”

“Well,” Seville began, “I could probably take you right now… I mean, let’s be honest. That smell—”

There was a smell? Twilight sniffed but tried to make it appear that she was not doing so.

“—says yes. And right now, I really, really want to fronk you. Won’t lie.”

“So if you want to fronk me right now, why haven’t you? Why not be more aggressive?”

“Physically, I’m sure you’d be glad to go. But emotionally? Yes, I could probably fronk you silly right now and you might even enjoy it, but I’m pretty sure I would only ever fronk you once if that happened. Logically speaking, I can’t fronk you silly because that would hurt my long term goals.”

Brows furrowing, Twilight’s mind drew a blank. “I don’t understand. How could not fronking me right now be beneficial?”

Seville drew in a deep breath, his barrel expanded greatly, and he replied, “Because I want to keep fronking you. Over and over. Without end. I want to spend the rest of my life mattress dancing with you. I want to have my dirty, dirty way with you, repeatedly, and I want you to have your dirty, dirty way with me. If I took you right now, I could have you, but I would also lose you… probably. So I am going to continue to be the timid, cautious pony I am, until I can have what I want without consequences.”

The sheer brazenness of it all caused Twilight’s ears to burn like candles.

At least Seville was honest and there was comfort in that. He had plans—of course he did—and while she was certain that he had planned more than just fronking her, she could not help but feel distressed that the seeming focus of his plan revolved around… repeated insertion. A part of her felt flattered; she was the object of sexual desire. Another part felt alarmed; she was the desired target of biological imperatives and this… this was complicated. Too complicated for words or thoughts, even.

This went beyond mere friendship and Twilight peered ahead into the vast gulf of the future. Seville had his own wants, needs, and desires. So did Pinkie. And Twilight… she had her own vision of what she wanted the future to be. Joining with Seville and Pinkie would mean… a change to her plans. Of course, it would also mean a real change to their plans as well. Everypony involved would have to play a difficult game of give and take. Yes, this most certainly went beyond mere common, simple friendship. This involved a commitment greater than any friendship demanded and she was mystified by the sheer scope of it all. So this is what the Princess of Love dealt with every day.

Twilight found that she was quite terrified by all of this. Friendship allowed her to keep free agency and her individuality; she was free to come and go, to determine her own future as a lone, singular individual. Love required more than that, demanded more of her. Friendship was comfortable (even when it was not) because it never asked more from her than she was willing to give. But love—love meant giving up a part of herself.

Clinging to Seville, Twilight wrestled with deep thoughts.

If friendship was an agreement, then love was a contract.

A contract written on paper, in ink.

Maybe she’d been wrong to send herself away.

She’d already made a sacrifice. A rather big one all things considered. As the Princess of Friendship, she’d felt obligated to do so. She’d taken one for the team. It was either her or Sumac, and she had cast aside her own future without so much as a second thought for his sake. Perhaps this love thing wasn’t so complicated after all. She had been the one to boop him on his nose and seal his fate, preserving him from a future where he had no choice. It all seemed like such simple decisions at the time.

Making sacrifices for those you loved wasn’t so hard.

Feeling as though she had accomplished something, that she had achieved some new plateau of understanding, Twilight Sparkle changed the subject to something she didn’t understand. “Seville… that waitress… I feel so blind and stupid. I had no idea what was going on until… until everything just felt so wrong.”

Seville grunted out a wordless response.

“All of you were making a joke about it.”

“Well, we can’t get angry about it.”

“Why not?” Twilight asked, feeling vulnerable for exposing her ignorance.

“Because, if we get angry about it and demand better treatment, we get called tribalists.”

“How does that work?” Twilight’s ear twitched against Seville’s sturdy jaw, slapping him against his cheek.

“Because we get accused of being aggressive… of having a chip on our shoulder. For looking for trouble where there is none. For disrupting tribal unity with our angry, baseless outbursts. We see problems that aren’t really there, because we earth ponies secretly hate unicorns and pegasus ponies. Because we’re earth ponies. Because we’re jealous. The moment we make a fuss about our lousy treatment, we’re the tribalists. Because the moment we mention unicorn supremacy, we’re bigots that won’t let go of the mistakes of the past and being the bigots that we are, we want all unicorns to be deeply ashamed of what they did… and the pegasus ponies too.”

Twilight realised that she did not—could not—understand.

“So we can’t protest our treatment… our abuse. We can’t complain about our position in society. Not without bringing a shitstorm of accusations down upon our own heads. So most of us have taken up a passive-aggressive position… and we make jokes about it. We can’t bring up the past… that pegasus ponies and unicorn ponies kept us as slaves and that we grew food in exchange for their protection. Sure, Equestrian feudalism came along and made life better… but I don’t see how or why we’re supposed to be grateful, because we still ended up on the bottom. I suppose being a peasant is a pretty big step up from being a slave. Maybe we should be grateful for what we were given… but most of us are pretty disillusioned.”

No matter how she swallowed, Twilight could not get rid of the lump in her throat.

“Applejack and I saw that waitress coming from a mile away. We knew exactly what sort of pony she was.”

Feeling queasy, Twilight thought of Pinkie Pie… the Element of Laughter. What motivated Pinkie Pie to be funny? A life downtrodden? In context with everything that Seville had just said, unsettling implications manifested. Tail twitching, back muscles spasming, Twilight began feeling hot and prickly again.

“You’ve met my mother, Twilight. That shook you up pretty good, didn’t it?”

Indeed, it had. The constant kowtowing, the bowing, the scraping, the constant, never-ending genuflecting, Twilight found out what it felt like to be Princess Celestia. It was a miserable, grating experience and now, she saw it with totally different eyes. Seville’s mother made constant reminders to her son; don’t be arrogant, don’t be aggressive, keep your eyes down, keep those ears down, don’t disturb the princess, do everything you are bidden, obey every command of the princess…

Don’t be uppity, Twilight’s own voice said within her head. She winced.

“How can I be a good friend to you if I can’t even see the trouble when it happens?”

In response, she felt Seville squeeze her. It was an aggressive squeeze that caused their bodies to shift together in the most intimate of ways, and as close as she had been to him just a while ago, she found that she could be closer still. This felt right though, but it also felt wrong. She couldn’t get close enough; she wanted to be a part of him, to share his skin, to get inside of his head, his thoughts, to be of one body and mind.

“Everything I need from you, I’m getting right now,” Seville replied.

“I’m starving.” Twilight blurted out the words without thinking and her whole body tensed as she feared sounding insensitive.

“We ditched the diner, it was a bad scene. Want to join the others?”

Twilight sniffled a few times before nodding and saying, “Yeah.”

She rubbed her cheek against him once more, but then his body shifted; first her cheek brushed up against his jaw, then his muzzle, then she felt his lips. When she turned her head, her own lips touched his and then before she knew what was going on, she was kissing him. Who had been the kisser and the kissee? Hard to say. It happened so fast.

A cautious advance was made with her tongue; Twilight felt odd being the aggressor, but it happened this way sometimes. She never quite knew when it was appropriate. There, on the gleaming white tile of the bathroom of the Princess Suite, Twilight Sparkle enjoyed one of the most fantastic, most fulfilling kisses of her life. She threw her forelegs around his neck with reckless abandon and then did her level best to somehow merge with him, conscious the whole time of what rose to attention between them.

For the very first time, she found that she did not mind, at least for now.

Author's Note

:trollestia: - It takes a brave little optimist to date Princess Friendzone.

Chapter 14

The revolving buffet seemed as complicated as it was simple: a truly enormous circular conveyor belt laden with food moved at a slow, glacial pace, and you grabbed what you wanted from it as it passed by. In the middle was a staging area where a group of unicorns kept the plates flying to fill the available empty spaces on the conveyor belt. Everything was made of chrome, shiny plastics, and gleaming glass, a stunning display of beautiful ultra-modern neo-futuristic art-deco that Twilight was certain Rarity would have something to say about.

She perched atop a stool and rested her elbows against the padded rest of the dining counter. Before, when she was a unicorn, she never perched anywhere; but since gaining wings, she perched. It just felt natural, normal, when sitting did not. Seville sat beside her on her left, and Pinkie—on her right—was already stuffing her face with an endless stream of desserts delivered by conveyor.

“Somepony showered,” Applejack remarked around a mouthful of cottage cheese and minced fruit. “Together.”

In response, Twilight felt a hot flush and cast a sidelong glance at Seville, who was also still somewhat damp. Things grew heated between them—one thing in particular had risen like mercury in a thermometer—and a cool shower had done much to calm everything down. As hot prickles crept up the back of her neck, Twilight gnawed on her bottom lip.

“It’s good that you’re finally getting over those hangups, Twi. I’m proud of you.”

It took a second, but Twilight realised that Applejack wasn’t teasing her. There was nothing snide about her words, no sarcasm, there was nothing there but gentle encouragement and an acknowledgement of the struggle. It felt pretty good—no—it felt great and Twilight’s appetite roared to life like a fussy baby dragon just woke from his nap.

Twilight grabbed the first thing that caught her eye: a wheat-meatball hoagie slathered in marinara and curls of melted cheese. The plate had a protruding chubby, somewhat-squishy handle, perfect for grip by fetlock. Just as Twilight was getting ready to gobble her sandwich, she saw a beautifully prepared eggplant parmesan—but before she could claim it, Seville grabbed it. Disappointed, she eyeballed the conveyor belt for something else that might satisfy.

“There’s gonna be a supermarket stampede.” Applejack’s last few words were muffled when she wiped her mouth with her foreleg. “The second event involves picking somepony from the audience to work with ya… they did it in honour of the Princess of Friendship.”

Ears pricking, Twilight turned to look at Pinkie beside her, hopeful. “Can I be your assistant?”

Pinkie froze. It was such a profound effect that her blue eyes even glazed over. The entirety of her body went rigid, every muscle drew tight, and all of this stood out in sharp contrast to her ears, which went limp. Staring down at her plate, Pinkie Pie did not turn to look at Twilight when she replied, “You’re not an earth pony.”

Twilight felt a crushing weight bear down upon her and she slumped against the padded edge of the counter. As bad as she felt though, Twilight was aware that Pinkie Pie somehow felt worse, and somehow, Twilight found the strength to reach out and slip a foreleg around Pinkie’s withers.

“Oh, this is bad… I wonder how many friendships this might have ended?” Shaking her head, Pinkie leaned over on her stool, knowing that Twilight would support her. “I never thought of how it might feel to others to be rejected… or having to reject somepony… or having to reject a friend… help, this feels bad.”

“I’m pretty certain it’s meant to feel bad,” muttered Applejack, her green eyes casting a leaden stare. “I’d say that bloviating thundercunt knew exactly what to do to cause the most damage, given how she mentioned the Princess of Friendship during the announcement.”

Twilight, holding Pinkie, glanced around her to look at Applejack. “Jackie, do you really believe that?”

“If you believe in the worst of ponies, you’ll never be disappointed, Twi.”

“This really hurts.” Pinkie Pie leaned against Twilight even more, forcing Twilight to assert some strength to keep her friend propped up.

Jaw firming, Twilight refused to let this be an issue. “I’m a big filly… I shower with my coltfriend and everything… and I can deal with rejection. It’s important to maintain the integrity of the tradition. If I want to bake with you, we can do it at home, where it is a lot more fun and there’s a lot less pressure.”

“That’s nice, Twi, but now I’m aware of how this might hurt others.” Pinkie’s tongue snaked out, licked a glob of frosting on her nose, and then was slurped back in. “Now I’m wondering if we’re wrong for doing what we do.”

Giving her friend a squeeze, Twilight nodded as her tummy rumbled in protest. “It’s good to have awareness, Pinkie, and empathy for others. Finish your cake, you’ll feel better.”

“I already asked Applejack to be my partner. She was there and you and Seville were upstairs. It just felt right at the time, you know?” Pinkie Pie picked herself up, sat up on her own stool, and leaned against the counter. “I learned something by accident.”

“Something like this is a friendship test.” Twilight, starving, eyeballed her hoagie and her mouth watered. She was torn between the need for food and the need to comfort her friend. “If this wrecks a friendship, it probably wasn’t a very strong friendship to begin with. Being rejected hurts, but I understand that I can’t be included in everything my friends do, for a variety of reasons. Now get your head back into the game, Pinkie, and focus on winning.”

The pink mare seemed to perk up a bit, and took a hesitant bite of pink-frosted pink bubblegum-scented cake. On Twilight’s left, Seville pulled another eggplant parmesan off of the conveyor and went to work destroying it. Applejack had already returned to eating her cottage cheese, and beside Applejack, Bundt Buttercream stacked her seventeenth empty plate atop the previous sixteen.

Twilight Sparkle tore into her hoagie just as another serving of eggplant parmesan circled within reach…

“So,” Twilight began, “how does a supermarket stampede work?”

“Well, Twi,” Applejack replied while rubbing her stomach, “a big fake supermarket is set up and you have to run into there. There’s usually a timer involved and you have to grab all of the ingredients you need, and that’s part of the contest, ‘cause you don’t know what you’re gonna find.”

“So you and Pinkie are going to need to communicate?” Reaching down, Twilight rubbed her own stomach, and wished that she hadn’t eaten so much eggplant parmesan. Now, every time she burped, which was often, she tasted garlic and tomatoes.

“Yeah.” Applejack nodded. “We don’t know what we’re going to find, exactly, and we’ll only get one run through the supermarket, so if she and I are gonna bake something, we’ll need to get all the right stuff with no mistakes… no goof-ups. We’re going into this blind.”

“It sounds like you’ve done this before—”

“Oh, I have!” A broad grin split Applejack’s face and her freckles were shoved far back upon her cheeks. “But never with Pinkie. Fluttershy and I got to be contestants together at the Fillydelphia Friendship Frolic and we had ourselves a lovely time. We made those teacakes she’s known for.”

“I sent you on that trip.” Twilight, almost drowsy from eating far too much food, tried to recall the specifics, but that day seemed like it was so long ago. “Everypony else was busy, myself included, but you and Fluttershy were available. You know… Applejack… you and Flutters have become rather close over the years.” She recalled with some fondness how Fluttershy and Applejack had paired up together to gobble down cheese quesadillas.

A guarded expression appeared on Applejack’s face. “It just turns out we had a lot more in common than we thought, that’s all. Ponies change as they get older, Twi. Priorities change. What you want from life changes too. Flutters and I settled down and became homebodies while everypony else just kinda…” The orange earth pony spread her front legs in a wide gesture indicating two directions, but she did not finish her sentence.

“Yeah, but—”

“Twilight, don’t go there.” Anger flashed like incontinent, pissy thunderheads in Applejack’s eyes. “All of Ponyville gossips about it. I’m aware of that. I know what ponies say. Why can’t two mares just be close without everypony having to say stuff? I had to set Sumac straight once after he done got himself an earful of gossip. It’s destructive, is what it is. Flutters and I, we’re more than friends, but we’re not that. I don’t know what we are.” Folding her forelegs over her barrel, the apple farmer fell silent and scowled.

Twilight, aware that there were extraordinary levels of friendship, chose not to push the issue. “So… this supermarket stampede… it sounds like a good test of friendship.”

Applejack’s grin did not return. “It is.”

“Applejack—” Twilight paused when her friend’s eyebrow rose in a dangerous manner. Cautious, she tried again. “Applejack, do you hold some resentment towards the others?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” A truly sour expression took over Applejack’s face.

“You and Rainbow were so close as friends and rivals—”

“We’re still close.”

Twilight, aware that she tread on thin ice, began to wonder if this conversation was worth it. She almost brought up the fact that Applejack had just said she was a homebody and that the others… the others were most decidedly not homebodies. Twilight wondered if Applejack’s friendship with Fluttershy had more to do with Applejack trying to show the others that they weren’t needed… perhaps to even make them jealous… but there was no good way to put these thoughts into words.

Perhaps Applejack was trying to show the others what they were missing by being the very best friend she could be. The most supportive, most attentive, very bestest bestie that anypony could hope for or ask for. Or maybe, Applejack and Fluttershy had just naturally settled in together as they had aged.

Springing forth from the fertile soil of doubt, another tiny tendril of chaos encircled Twilight’s heart.

“Here comes the others,” Applejack said while looking in their direction.

By chance, Pinkie Pie was coming back from registration, while Bundt was returning from the restroom, and they had wound up together. Seville, of course, was doing his job. Bundt and Pinkie were laughing about something and Twilight could see that they would be the very best of friends, those two. Casting one final glance at Applejack, Twilight decided it was best to drop the issue.

The shopping buggy was one of the new models made of steel and aluminium, and not some rickety, old-fashioned archaic wooden cart with creaky wooden wheels. Mounted to the front was a sign advertising Hector Halfacre’s Humungo-Mart. For Twilight, the name caused some distress: hector meant to bully and it disturbed her that parents would give such a name to a pony. Perhaps there was another meaning that she was unaware of.

Pinkie Pie, humming to herself, broke into actual song: “I don't care much for pickin' fruit and plowin' fields ain't such a hoot. No matter what I try, I cannot fix this busted water chute! I've got so many chores to do, it's no fun being me… but it has to be my destiny, 'cause it's what my cutie mark is telling me.”

“Shut up, Pinkie… I don’t need to be reminded of that time.”

Undaunted, Pinkie Pie leaned up against Applejack and continued singing: “Lookie here at what I made, I think that it's a dress. I know it doesn't look like much, I'm under some distress. Could y'all give me a hand here and help me fix this mess? My destiny is not pretty, but it's what my cutie mark is tellin' me.”

Applejack’s deadpan expression displayed the timeless qualities that could be found upon her face, as well as showcasing her natural weary stoicism. Pinkie Pie was all smiles and bright, cheerful twinkling eyes, while Applejack was decidedly less so. Pinkie Pie persisted while Applejack endured. So it was, the dynamic of one of the great friendships of the ages.

Just as Pinkie was about to sing another line, Applejack interrupted and said, “Help.”

“Help?” Pinkie Pie, startled out of song, stood there, blinking and trying to recover.

“I need somepony—”

“Help?”

“Not just anypony—”

“Help!”

“You know I need somepony—”

“HELP!” Pinkie Pie belted out the word with enough force to make Applejack’s eyes squeeze shut.

“When I was younger, so much younger than today… I never needed anypony's help in any way. But now those days are gone, I'm not so self assured—”

“But now you’ve found you’ve changed your mind and opened up the doors?” Pinkie Pie asked in sing-song.

It was then that Twilight realised it would be a long afternoon for Applejack.

Author's Note

So... I wonder who will spot the cruel and dramatic irony to be found in this chapter.

Chapter 15

With Bundt Buttercream upstairs, safe, secured in their shared room so that she might have a much-needed nap, and Seville working the floor as a reporter, Twilight found herself alone in a crowd. Something about the energy of the crowd felt off, though she could not say how. There was something almost angry, or hostile, or resentful in the air. For Twilight, it was like flying into clouds that held the potential to become a feral thunderstorm. The energy was there, lurking, waiting, and given the right circumstances it could transform into something dreadful.

Twilight wished that she had Cadance’s well-developed sense of empathy.

The catwalks were crowded, more so than this morning even, as many of the contestants had become spectators. Below, the supermarket—a curious construction within the hotel—awaited sacking. Supermarkets were relatively new still; grocers, dry goods, and general stores were still the dominant shopping experience for most. But ponies were starting to demand all manner of goods to be found all under one roof. She had first seen one in the world beyond the mirror and that one… that one had been confounding. Never had she seen so much stuff, so much variety, so many choices and options… all in a building as large as a warehouse.

Twilight had seen society grow—as well as watching it end.

The stampede was ready to go, at least the first wave. Only a hundred would go at a time, for a fine state of controlled chaos guaranteed to give a good show. Pinkie Pie and Applejack were in the second stampede and the supermarket would need to be restocked before they did their run. By Twilight’s own estimation, the contest would continue well into the evening, given the sheer number of contestants.

“This is DJ Double Dip, the smooth, silky voice of everything hip! Our first supermarket stampede is about to take place and the contestants are all lined up and ready to race!”

Hearing that awful voice, Twilight cringed so hard that an involuntary groan escaped.

“This is a shout-out to the Princess of Friendship! Can I be your friend… with benefits?”

For a second or so, Twilight thought about scrubbing this moment from reality, but then, with a resigned sigh, she chose to live with its existence. Princess Celestia got regular proposals—some of them far less than classy—and if she could deal with it, then so too, could Twilight. But then came the second thoughts when she realised that everypony around her was now staring at her.

Yep, this was awkward.

She had options, at least. She could pop into the sound booth and set DJ Double Dip straight—on air, no less—but she wasn’t sure what that would accomplish. The experience was absolutely mortifying and somehow, the public humiliation that came with it felt like just about the worst thing that had ever happened, even though far worse things had, in fact, happened to Twilight. One curious and satisfying solution popped into her mind: she could get her brother to go and beat up that snotty little punk—no, that was stupid, no matter how good it felt to think about.

Perhaps Shining Armor would send Dim in his stead…

There was nothing she could do but live with it.

“Miss Sparkle?” The feminine voice had a contradictory hesitant confidence as well as having a distinct Manehattanite accent. “In the Hearth’s Warming interview, written by Seville Orange, you stated on the record that you prefer Miss Sparkle as a means of address.”

Hailed in such a manner, with such a powerful reminder, Twilight found herself remembering Hearth’s Warming; Seville was there, because of course he was, and she had drank just a little too much wine, because of course she had. At some point, she had flung herself down upon a pile of cushions and demanded that Seville make a front page headline about her… and so he had, because of course he did. That bit of back and forth, the intimacy of it, the exchange of words, of thoughts, of feelings, it had been one of the most romantic moments of her life—or maybe romantic was the wrong word. But it satisfied like nothing else. It had cemented something between herself and her reporter-errant. Hours and hours of wordplay, all committed to paper with ink.

“My name is Satsuma Orange,” the mare said while Twilight turned around to face her. “My friends call me Uma.”

Yep, she was an Orange, all right. Almost the same shade as Seville, but brighter, more vivid. The lurking accent was from the Broncs, it had to be—Twilight had listened to Gosling long enough to know. Like Pinkie Pie, she was a bit heavy set, but also like Pinkie Pie, she was a stunner who wore it well. There was an awful lot of Applejack to be seen in the mare.

“Hello, Uma,” Twilight said in a calculated bid to put the mare at ease.

The stocky mare blushed and her eyes twinkled in a fetching, winsome way. When she smiled, Twilight saw even more of Seville in her; perhaps this was something common to Oranges, because she had seen these features in Seville’s mother. Satsuma shuffled on her hooves for a bit, but then did an admirable job of pulling herself together.

“I was hoping to speak to you, Miss Sparkle.”

“My friends call me Twilight.”

Satsuma Orange took a deep breath, perhaps to steady herself or to gather her courage. “Twilight, I was hoping I could speak with you.”

Below, the stampeding pseudo-shoppers ransacked the supermarket.

“Don’t let this be taken away from us,” Satsuma Orange said to Twilight. “Do something… as a princess, I mean. I don’t mean to tell you what to do, but you have the power to save us. I don’t know if anypony else has talked to you about this… or why it is so important.”

At that moment, Twilight gained a keen awareness that the ponies surrounding her were no longer watching the stampede. She could feel their eyes upon her, so many eyes, and what was sure to be hundreds of ears now pivoted in her direction to hear better over the commotion taking place down below.

“Uma, why don’t you tell me why this is so important. Help me to understand. What is your perspective on all this? Share with me. Tell me. I’m glad to listen.”

Satsuma’s eyes darted around the crowd, nervous, and her tongue flicked over her lips to moisten them. Quite a number of ponies came closer and as the crowd pressed in, Twilight could feel the squeeze—she and Satsuma Orange were getting juiced. There was quite a bit of bravery in the earth pony mare and Twilight found herself fascinated.

“What if I told you it wasn’t even about baking for most of us, but a means to an end, a sort of yardstick of physical perfection?” She sucked in a deep breath and with the eyes and ears of the crowd upon her, she continued, “I mean, baking does have a lot to do with it… I’m a baker, or I was… I guess I still am… it’s complicated. But baking allows us earth ponies to showcase what we’re capable of, because we’re doing the impossible.”

Twilight found herself intrigued.

“Hey, Twilight, you ever try to crack an egg without magic?” Satsuma asked. Without waiting for a response, the mare plowed onwards. “It took me ten years of practice to do it with regularity and speed. You have to grip it in the fetlock just so. Squeeze too hard, and when you go to crack it, you end up with a big mess in your fetlock. Don’t squeeze hard enough, and the egg, shell and all, falls into your food, and oy vey, what a mess. Who likes cakes with eggshells? Nopony, that’s who. When you crack the egg, you have to twist your hoof in just the right way to spread the shell apart without dropping it… it’s an art, Twilight, and for some of us, it is something that we invest a significant part of our lives in so that we can do what unicorns do without thinking.”

There were murmurs from the crowd around Twilight.

“And that’s just the eggs, Twilight. Just the eggs. Oy vey. That’s just one little thing. Making a nice cake is so much more than cracking an egg.” Satsuma rolled her eyes.

For the first time, Twilight had an inkling that there was more to this contest than she had first assumed. Everything that Satsuma had said was compelling. It wasn’t just baking, but the struggle. So there was a reason, but Twilight wanted to know more, the hows and the whys of it all.

“So, the contest is more about self-improvement than about baking—”

“Yes!” Satsuma blurted out. “And then we get unicorns in these contests who aren’t allowed to use their magic and they make a mess of things, they whine, they cry, they piss and they moan, and they say all of these horrible, horrible things about how much it sucks to try and get any work done, and how impossible it is, and how terrible and unfair life is. And they do it without never once thinking about how insulting it is to us! That’s why we don’t want them here! The most alicorn-awful tribalist things come out of their mouths and they don’t even know how insulting they are!”

She made a spitting sound three times, an act that reminded Twilight of Gosling’s mother.

“We don’t mind the pegasus ponies so much in these contests, but we can’t allow them to compete with us because that means we have to allow the unicorns too and that’s always when the trouble starts, oy vey! The pegasus ponies, they know the struggle. Even with those wings of theirs, so many of them aren’t agile at all. So it comes down to hard work… and the pegasus ponies, they too, they get sick of the whining and the crying and all of the insulting things the unicorns say about actually having to work for something.”

For Twilight, the problem began to reveal itself.

“My husband gave up his magic for a week to try and better understand me,” a mare in the crowd said. “He said the most awful things about how terrible it was to be so helpless… and he kept saying the most infuriating stuff. I’ve spent my whole life this way and just a few days in, he kept talking about how he was gonna die because of how hard his life had become. I had to toss his sorry ass into the river and then set him straight with a good talk about being sensitive, because he was an unbearable jerkass! I love him, and I’m still married to him, but I had to set him straight on the matter!”

“Yeah!” many ponies said at once and there was much stomping of hooves upon the catwalks.

“I hate all that talk about how much it sucks to live a life of drudgery,” a pegasus stallion said. “That’s our lives they talk about! We have to work hard for everything we do and they disrespect us with every word they say!”

There was something ugly in the crowd now, something almost cold.

“When we bake, it is a contest for how we deal with the world,” an old mare with rickety knees said to Twilight. “It shows off how clever we are and how we’ve adapted.”

“I lost my bakery because of so-called tribal unity, and I don’t want to lose our last refuge in the name of tribal unity.” Anger glittered in Satsuma’s eyes and there was a hardness to her face now.

“Wait...” Twilight raised her hoof and she forced herself to remain calm. This crowd was getting ugly and there was something in the air itself that reminded her of Skyreach. Twilight, of all ponies, understood how hatred could take on a life of its own. “How did you lose your bakery due to tribal unity? I’d really like to know. If you were wronged somehow, I’d like to fix it.”

“My neighborhood is gentrifying,” Satsuma replied, only somewhat mollified by Twilight’s willingness to listen. “It’s being taken over by unicorns and they’re moving in and taking over the jobs. I ran a bakery… a pretty successful bakery. I started off small like most bakers do and when it came time to hire help, I hired my fellow earth ponies who had been put out of work. What I didn’t do was hire unicorns, because the last thing I wanted as a boss is to create tension in my workplace. Most of my hires had lost their job to a unicorn. Doing things the earth pony way was a major selling point for my business.”

Twilight could feel a strange, unpleasant tension in the crowd.

“Somepony complained,” Satsuma continued, her voice now gritty and low. “Suddenly, because I’m trying to preserve my neighborhood and keep my neighbors employed, I’m the tribalist. Suddenly, I’m overrun with bureaucrats who are telling me that I’m violating all these crown-mandated statutes on unity and fairness. It doesn’t matter that I’m trying to save jobs, or to keep my neighbors from falling into the gutter… they demanded that I fire half of my workforce and replace them with unicorns. When I refused, when I refused to fire my loyal and dedicated employees, they shut me down.”

“That’s terrible,” Twilight said without thinking.

The murmurs of the crowd filled her ears now and the press of bodies around her left Twilight hot, flustered, and sweaty. A hot dreadful prickle crept up and down her spine and painful muscle spasms caused her wings to slap against her sides. She made a valiant effort to think of something better to say, but the words, the words that she desperately wanted to say, these words avoided her for whatever reason. Perhaps they sensed the change in the crowd and knew a bad scene as it developed.

Those laws had been put in place to protect earth ponies…

Twilight looked into the eyes of those who surrounded her and never had she ever felt more vulnerable than right now. She had wings and a horn. Every possible advantage had been given to her. As for these ponies, they had to struggle to gain any advantage at all and they were about to lose something precious to them, something they held dear. A level and fair playing field wasn’t much, but when you had nothing, a little bit of something held far more value.

Or something to that effect.

“I could have kept my bakery,” Satsuma said, her voice now flat and devoid of feeling. “I could have kept my bakery, fired my friends, hired a few unicorns, and received a payment from the Crown for maintaining unity standards—”

“But those laws were put into place to help earth ponies,” Twilight said, interrupting.

“I lost my job because of those laws.” One stallion stepped forwards, his ears pricked and his short tail swishing from side to side, slapping his stocky legs. “One unicorn was hired to satisfy the mandate and then after a year, there was downsizing and corporate restructuring. Ten of us got laid off… I feel bad for ol’ Jam Jar though… he’s not getting paid for doing ten ponies’ worth of work.”

“Uma, I’m going to find a way to make things right,” Twilight said to the mare. “You have my word as a princess.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Satsuma turned a hard, flinty stare upon Twilight. “These laws… these unity directives… all these fairness mandates… they all came from the last promise to make things better. Now we’re here, and now… with our last bake-off… our last bastion… the very last thing that represents our values being threatened by the laws made to protect it.”

Twilight did not know what to do.

“It’s not fair,” a youngish pegasus filly said while clinging to the leg of what was assumed to be her earth pony father. “When I grow up, I’ll always have work because there’s always weather jobs and delivery jobs for pegasus ponies. But my father… he keeps getting laid off.”

Gritting her teeth, Twilight decided that now was not the best time to mention that unicorns had completely replaced the pegasus weather teams in Canterlot. So many eyes were focused upon her. Some were hopeful, some angry, others sad. There were earth ponies, pegasus ponies… and even unicorns in the crowd. Unicorns that were here, now, listening, learning, understanding. A faint, flickering flame of hope kindled within Twilight’s breast.

She thought of the mare that had thrown her husband into a river.

Perhaps awareness was a better approach than mandates.

It wasn’t a great solution, perhaps—it could fail spectacularly—but it might be a good start. Or maybe awareness already existed, and she was oblivious. But if she was oblivious, then that only proved her point: more awareness was needed. Beneath Twilight’s hooves, down below the see-through catwalks, the supermarket was almost a demolition derby, something that almost matched the violent spectacle of hippodrome chariot racing. It happened without her noticing.

“You’re a princess. You could save our bake-off with a word.” Satsuma’s ears angled forward, aggressive. “But then you’d have the face the heat… there’d be accusations of favouritism… of tribalism. You’d be run through the wringer with accusations of favouring earth ponies over other tribes and I’d imagine that the scandal would do lasting, maybe even permanent damage to your authority and your position. So don’t make promises that you can’t keep, Miss Sparkle. All your credibility would be tanked.” The mare paused, blinked, and then added, “But if you do nothing at all, you send a pretty clear message to all of us… letting us know that we’re not worth it. It’s just politics. Trust us, we understand.”

Satsuma wiped her eyes with her foreleg and then, before Twilight could find the words she wanted to say, Satsuma Orange departed. The crowd parted before her, letting her pass, and just about every face present became rather solemn. Twilight could feel her guts clenching, the heat that burned within made her skin sting, and there was a terrible metallic taste upon her tongue.

Rather than flee the uncomfortable scene, Twilight decided to face the crowd…

Author's Note

So... Twilight now has a few tendrils of chaos around her heart and the pressure is building.

Chapter 16

The hot flashes were becoming quite unbearable and for Twilight, it felt as though she was getting some kind of heat rash beneath her wings. She was a princess with no guards, no wall of armor keeping the public away from her. Of course, the guards really didn’t protect the princesses, no. It was the other way around: the guards protected the public from the princesses in the event that somepony was stupid enough to put everypony at risk by forcing the princesses to defend themselves.

Twilight had some rather intense mixed feelings about guards in general.

She was the Public Princess, the accessible princess that wasn’t surrounded at all times by clanking steel. Or in the case of Princess Cadance, only one guard was needed—Dim. Somehow, Dim was worse than a whole cadre of guards and he caused Cadance to be downright unapproachable. Of course, Dim also granted a certain level of freedom to Skyla and Flurry that they might not have otherwise.

Twilight wondered, what if she had foals? Who would keep them safe? Would they be free to play and frolic? Even as she entertained the question in her mind, she already knew the truth. The Royal Brood lived in a fortified military complex, a place surrounded by guards and warded with magical protections—yet, there had been incidents. There had been attempts. There had even been attempts on Skyla and Flurry—and Dim had thwarted those on multiple occasions. War had changed the Kommissar and one disturbed his calm at their peril.

Perhaps settling down to start a family was a complication that she didn’t need right now in her life. Her authority had just been expanded, to what degree she was uncertain. There was her school to run, a sorcerer to keep up with, Trixie Lulamoon’s intriguing idea of reviving the Clock Face Fiefdoms, and the occasional kerfuffle with Grogar’s forces of evil when they decided to drop in for tea unannounced. Twilight was a busy princess who hardly even had time to maintain her friendships, as evidenced by her friends growing further and further apart as the years passed.

Yet another tendril of chaos encircled her heart and gave it a cruel squeeze.

“Princess?”

Twilight’s ears pricked at the sound of the somewhat lispy voice coming from behind her. She turned about, mindful of her size and the fact that the voice had traveled up to her ears. Her hooves made solid thumps against the catwalk and she angled her head to look down.

“Smart Cookie, don’t bother the princess!”

Flexing her legs, Twilight extended her wing, kneeled down a bit, and pulled little Smart Cookie closer, which caused the nearby mare—presumably his mother—to make whinnies of distress. The earth pony colt was little, stout, a tiny little keg with legs that looked up at her with wide, worshipful eyes.

“Hi there,” Twilight said to the colt. “What’s your name?”

“Call me Smarty,” the colt replied. “My Mum-Mum only uses my whole name when she’s freakin’ out.”

“You sound smart.” Twilight cast a quick glance at the mare who was prancing in place. “How old are you, Smarty?”

“Six.”

It was a tiny six, a really teeny tiny six by Twilight’s estimation.

“My daddies have me read your reading list so I’ll grow up smart.”

“Daddies?” It was an odd detail to seize upon, but seize upon it Twilight did.

“My husbands,” the earth pony mare said, skittish, and she drew closer. “One of them is gay. The other is a little less gay. They wanted a family. I met them for the first time on the day I married them. It was one of those big come one, come all mass weddings that Princess Cadance throws. They wanted a family and I was itching to settle down, and so we reached an agreement.”

“I’m not one to judge.” Twilight smiled, trying to put the nervous mare at ease.

“But others do… judge. I was rather young when we married. Really young, actually. But I knew what I wanted in life. Ponies talked. Ponies wouldn’t shut up, actually. A young filly in the presence of two much older confirmed bachelors. Awful things were said.” The mare hesitated to move closer, and continued to shuffle-step in place. “Ponies keep telling me I need to take my son and leave.”

Twilight felt an apology was in order and she summoned up her heartfelt sincerity. “I’m sorry. Sounds like it’s been difficult for you. Do try to calm down though.”

“I couldn’t think of a better place for a filly my age to be,” the mare said, continuing to express herself in a nervous, halting manner. “They were good to me. Treated me like I was their princess. After the wedding, I felt safe enough to go home with them. They gave me a wonderful life and I gave them Smart Cookie.”

“Smarty, do you love your dads?” Twilight asked.

The colt nodded.

“Do you like having extra parents?”

Again, the colt nodded. “They do voices when it is story time before bed.”

“They’re voice actors in the film industry,” the mare said, explaining what her son had said. “My name is Apricot Sandie.” At long last, the mare relaxed with a final nervous huff. “My son has always wanted to meet you.”

“Is that so, Smart Cookie?” Reaching out, Twilight gave him a tickle with her wing and delighted in the sound of the colt’s laughter. Feeling emboldened, she lifted him with her magic and brought him up so she could see him eye to eye. So far, everything was okay, and there seemed to be no visible distress from being picked up.

“You beat up the bad guys,” said the colt in a matter-of-fact way. “Kerpow!”

Fighting back a smile, Twilight nodded. “I sure do.”

“Mum-Mum says that monsters are trying to stop the bake-off and make the good things go away. Are you gonna save us?” The bold, fearless colt looked Twilight right in the eye. “A good kerpow or two should set things right. Like Daring Do and Crown Agent Cocoa! Smash face!”

At a loss for words, Twilight didn’t know what to say.

Troubled, Twilight thought of Skyreach—four friends, impossible odds, and hatred given life. How would Tarnish deal with Bourgogne Blintz? Not kindly. Mooks, contract killers, foalnappers, and tribalists… these were the things that set Mister Teapot off. Or worse, caused him to slip into one of his violent states of denial, where he repeatedly shouted, “NO!” while smashing stuff to bits. Which somehow made a diplomatic approach all the more important: the world was filled with violent reactions.

“I wish it was as simple as picking a fight.” Twilight, unsure of how to express herself, faced the daunting task of having to explain this to one so young. Glancing at Apricot Sandie, she saw worry and fear in her eyes.

“You can’t save us?” Smart Cookie looked more confused than sad. “But you’re a princess.”

“As a princess, I have to be careful that I don’t hurt others when I’m saving somepony. It means I have to be careful. Cautious.” Twilight’s ears fell. She made it a point to be everypony’s friend—she was the Princess of Friendship, after all—and she had made it a point to remain as neutral as possible so she could always be a mediator. More than that, she didn’t want to offend anypony. It was hard to be friends with a pony you’ve offended. So other than her stance regarding rotten reporters, she kept a guarded, inoffensive position so she would remain liked.

Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, Princess Cadance, Prince Gosling, Prince Dim, Prince Shining Armor, Prince Blueblood; the Royals, by and large, were plagued with scandal and buffeted from all sides by an angry public. Twilight, for the most part, remained popular and scandal free, but she made it a point to avoid causing trouble.

Gosling’s policy was such that he avoided most adults outright and focused upon foals, like Smart Cookie. Twilight could see the wisdom in such a policy. She studied the small light brown colt with dark reddish-brown speckles. He would grow to be handsome. His mother was a bit more orange than reddish-brown.

“I want to fix things,” Twilight said to the colt, “but I’m not sure how. I want to make things fair, because things aren’t fair, but I somehow have to make things fair for everypony. I don’t want anypony hurt, because that would hurt me.”

“Sometimes, my daddies fight.” The colt’s wide eyes cast a sidelong glance in his mother's direction. “Mum-Mum threatens them with timeout.”

“Does that work?”

In response, the colt nodded. “She makes them talk and reminds them that we’re family.”

“I think they’re about to start the run, Smarty. Don’t you want to watch?” Apricot Sandie took a bold step closer. “Thank you for being patient and kind to my son. He’s very outgoing.”

With a half nod, Twilight placed the colt upon his mother’s back, and then, reaching out her wing, she touched him one last time. It all seemed so simple for him, and she envied his uncomplicated existence. Monsters were things that one pummeled into submission—and not something that one lived in fear of offending. What would strong, bold action accomplish?

“Keep reading,” Twilight said to Smart Cookie.

“On my birthday, I get a new reading list!” The colt buried his face into his mother’s mane and clung to her neck.

“Goodbye!” Twilight wing-waved and she watched, somewhat dismayed, as Apricot Sandie took this opportunity to depart. It wasn’t like she had answers, or a lot to say, but having the little colt around was nice—comforting somehow.

“Heya, Dollface!”

The familiar voice almost caused Twilight to jump out of her skin.

“I have so many stories.” Seville’s grin was extra-wide beneath his green fedora. “I ran out of recording rods. Need to go up to our room to stash the ones I’m carrying.”

At the mention of recording rods, Twilight was reminded of Skyreach. The crystalline rods held voices from the past, reminders of dark times. Vinyl Scratch had revived the old technology and now, Seville used them to make his work as a reporter easier. He could record conversations, a true boon for an earth pony reporter.

Though gone, the dreadful legacy of Skyreach remained.

“Dollface? You okay? You got that faraway look on your pretty face.”

“I’m sorry…”

“You look shook up, beautiful.”

“I am shook up, ya mug.”

“Hey, what’s the big idea… why I oughta... ”

Though she wanted to be solemn and serious, Twilight could not help but smile.

“Pinks and Jackie are about to make their run. Jackie is gonna be running point, I think. She’ll clear a path for Pinks and the cart. It’s gonna be rough down there.”

Seville. Careful, cautious, plodding Seville. Gosling’s Fluttershy, except he wasn’t quite the Fluttershy of reporters. No, he was more Applejack when it came to reporting, brutal honesty and tenacity. Then again, there were some elements of Fluttershy in that—when riled, Flutters was incredibly dangerous. Here she was again trying to sort somepony into a role she understood and was familiar with.

“You’ll be a Doctor of Journalism soon,” she remarked.

“I woulda had it by now if I was a unicorn,” he replied. “Takes me forever to get anything done. I just have to work a little harder and I’ll have it.”

“There’s been some interruptions.” Twilight pulled one of Seville’s bags from his neck and slung it over her own. The immense weight was hardly noticeable and she allowed it to settle into a comfortable position against the bulk of her barrel. “I’ve been one of them. The war has slowed down your work.”

“The war has given me something to work with.” Seville’s grin transformed into a tight, drawn line when his lips pressed together while he stood there, thinking. After a short time, he continued, “Wars make or break reporters. Some of us rise to prominence while the war rages, but then history looks unfavourably upon us for being shills. Others remain unpopular voices, but history smiles upon us. That’s my goal… I want history to remember me. I’m playin’ the long game.”

Twilight thought back to what Seville said on the train.

“What if history remembered you as my husband?” Twilight asked of her companion. “Would that count? Would that satisfy you?”

“That depends.” Seville looked Twilight in the eye for a moment, and then turned his attention to the scene unfolding beneath him as the contestants lined up. “All the more reason to finish my doctoral work. If I’m going to be remembered as your husband, I want to be remembered the right way… being remembered as the magnificent, rakishly handsome stud who kept your bed warm isn’t appealing to me.”

Twilight snorted out a mighty blast that blew Seville’s hat crooked.

“Hey, what’s the big idea?” The stoic earth pony did nothing to fix his hat.

“Seville, I feel stuck.”

“Welcome to Skidsville, Dollface.”

“I don’t see a way of trying to fix this problem without creating more problems. It’s daunting, Seville. I’m really frustrated right now. Since I know the problem exists, I can’t turn away, but I also can’t face it head on… because I don’t know how. Ponies want something from me, and I’m not sure I can give it to them. I don’t know how to make things better without making them worse.”

“Dame, it’s a rough world. Welcome to being the rest of us.”

“I’m the only royal who isn’t surrounded on all sides by scandal and outrage. I have the highest approval ratings and everything. I am Equestria’s most liked princess. I’m the most popular princess… and I think that’s a problem. I’m so busy trying to be everypony’s friend. I don’t rock the boat. I don’t make waves. I am paralysed by the very idea of everypony suddenly hating me.”

“Celestia is still dealing with the fallout of seizing strategic assets during the Mariner Incident.” Seville sighed, a weary sound. “She said the anger would die out in a generation or three. For now though, her approval rating and general satisfaction score are in the toilet. Although… for those who do support her, her approval has never been higher since they started tracking these numbers. The old bird still has loyal followers, of which I am one.”

When Seville brushed up against her, Twilight nickered and then allowed herself to remain pressed against him, making no effort to pull away. They had started as friends; Gosling somehow wrangled them into dancing. There was some awkwardness there in the beginning, because Twilight was already a mature mare and Seville was an innocent, wide-eyed, idealistic colt fresh off the farm. Seville grew into the stallion he was now, a bastion of truth and Equestrian ideals, and Twilight had watched him grow.

Twilight wondered if Seville became all that he was just to impress her.

“I try to remain likable, if I can. As a reporter, I have to. I need ponies to talk to me if I want to have a job. But there have been moments when I’ve had to take a stand. Do what was right. And because of that, I’ve made ponies angry. I’ve made Celestia angry, I’ve had Luna furious with me, Cadance and Shining Armor were a bit miffed with me for a while… and there was the incident where I held Blueblood’s hooves to the fire. I had to do it though. Blue was cracking down on bureaucrats that did nothing, but he was being too lenient on those who had courted his favour. He thanked me for it later, but he was still pretty mad for a time.”

“You’ve even made me angry,” Twilight said, knowing that Seville would appreciate her honesty.

“I know, and I still feel pretty bad about that. You had it coming, dragging your hooves like that.”

“I wasn’t dragging my hooves,” Twilight retorted, annoyed. “I was taking a cautious approach.”

A deep resonating wicker could be heard in Seville’s barrel.

“Look, I wasn’t dragging my hooves. I was trying to learn more about the issue before committing to reform. The reading material was just awful.” Twilight did not like the look that Seville was giving her, not at all, and it was at this moment that she knew why she valued his friendship: he would always hold her accountable.

“Here we go,” Seville announced. “They’re starting!”

Author's Note

Nothing feels accomplished. It's like being stuck in a morass.

Chapter 17

Twilight wasn’t sure what Pinkie Pie and Applejack were cooking, but what a pair they made. Having listened to others, having learned from what was said, Twilight watched the two mares and observed their dexterity. From the looks of things, Pinkie Pie seemed a little more agile than Applejack, but that was expected. Perhaps in a farm setting, Applejack might have the upper hoof.

One thing was for certain: Applejack had terrific knife skills, and sliced apples with ease.

Watching the two mares from up above, Twilight remembered how clumsy the two were when she had first met them. They had all been much younger then. Now, as older, mature mares, there was a certain confidence in their movements, a certain assurance, and a surprising amount of grace. She had noticed how clumsy they were, all those years ago, so why hadn’t she noticed their gradual transition into gracefulness? Was she careless? Inattentive? A bad friend? Clueless?

“Seville, sometimes… I worry that, as the Princess of Friendship, I might not be the best friend.”

“Sometimes, you’re not,” he replied without skipping a beat. “Sometimes, I’m not the best friend. Sometimes… sometimes Pinkie Pie goes loco in the coco. What makes you a good friend is that you have moments like this one, like you’re having right now, where you know that things might not be quite right and that you could be doing better. That… that right there is what makes you a great and wonderful friend. You never shy away from doing better.”

Hearing this, Twilight did not know what to say, but there was a sudden fire in her loins.

“You know, Twilight, I’ve been thinking.” Seville, while speaking, did not take his eyes off of the two mares working below. “I’m glad we’ve had this long courtship of ours. Sometimes, when ponies meet, they are so focused on falling in love… don’t get me wrong, there’s been some of that… but you and I… we… we build a solid friendship before rushing madly into love. I wouldn’t trade a moment of it.”

“You mean that?” she found herself asking while her ears pricked erect.

“Toots, I wouldn’t’ve said it otherwise. Whirlwind romance is fun. The poets write about it, songs are made about it, and all those trashy novels are all about the mad race of love, with a hymen standing in as the finish line ribbon.”

For a moment, Twilight didn’t know how to respond. A curious warmth spread through her belly, the inside of her thighs felt sweaty, her dock felt too tight, and the muscles of her croup spasmed in a weird, unknown way. But then, she laughed. It came bubbling out like fizzy foam from a shook up soda bottle and left her with a pleasant lightheadedness. There was no need to be uptight, because that was funny.

Before Seville could resume speaking, Pinkie Pie shouted up from down below, “Go upstairs and fronk each other! Now is the time! Now!”

Mortified, Twilight felt her stomach tie itself into knots. “Miss Buttercream is in our room!”

“She’s a professional,” Pinkie shouted back. “Just imagine the advice she can give you! Just ask and be polite!”

Twilight felt her mouth go dry and beside her, Seville was chuckling in a soft, delightful way that Twilight would never tire of hearing. Everything was almost fine, but then she noticed the ponies all around her, all of them with wide, bright, excited eyes and wider, broader smiles. The sheer number of encouraging nods, waggled eyebrows, and the overall interest they showed in her sex life caused Twilight to start sweating like a horse.

“As some of you might know, this is my fiancé,” Twilight said to the ponies around her, trying to explain herself.

“Engagement is like milk,” an old, wrinkled, withered mare shouted from some distance away. “If you let it sit for too long, it spoils. Oy vey!”

Biting her lip, this was not the response Twilight had anticipated.

Seville, somehow cool under pressure, never even lifted his head. He never looked up. Somehow, his attention remained focused on the two mares down below. Still chewing her lip, Twilight found herself hating him just a teensy-weensy bit. Seville Orange didn’t seem at all bothered by the enraptured masses that had to be thinking about his sex life right now—real or otherwise imagined. Twilight knew all too well what these ponies had to be thinking and the mental imagery that was sure to accompany it. Just the thought of it made her nethers clench up so tight that she was certain that an orifice back there had just collapsed in upon itself.

“Just go upstairs and schtup already!” the wrinkly old mare hollered.

The most analytical part of her mind took over and she was both curious and dumbfounded by her reaction to this. She was Twilight Fronking Sparkle. Destroyer of Tirek. She had committed orbital bombardment. Alone, she had sank entire fleets and left behind scorched, blackened bones where armies once gathered. Element of Magic. The living, breathing, ink-blooded embodiment of magic. Once, she had boiled away a significant portion of an ocean.

So why was this so hard?

Twilight took a direct approach. “Just what is it that you want from me?” She lifted her head, braced her legs, and drew herself up to a more commanding posture. “State your reasoning, plainly and clearly.”

“Have some foals already,” the old mare bellowed in response.

“Yeah,” another old mare added, “how can you claim to be fit to rule when you haven’t had foals? That’s some ruling right there. Try being a mother. Princess? Pshaw! Ptoo! Ptoo! Ptoo! That’s nothing compared to quieting a colicky foal.”

“The other princesses have shown they have what it takes,” an older, greying stallion remarked.

“What could you possibly know of our daily struggle?” a young earth pony mare asked. “What do we have in common? What common perspective do we share? You and I… near as I can tell, we share nothing in common. You have wings and a horn. I can’t even begin to understand that. But if you had foals like I do, I’d know that you and I would have something we can talk about. Common ground. We earth ponies are big on common ground. Get it? Ground? Earth ponies.” Rolling her eyes, the young mare waved her hoof.

“You told us to have foals… that it is our patriotic duty. Future soldiers and workers. You mention that every time you give one of your big patriotic princess speeches.”

“That.. that I did.” Twilight felt her calm coming back. Hearing what they wanted might not be pleasant, but it was a relief. “So, uh, since we’re being honest and straightforward here, how do all of you feel about Seville?”

An unnatural, eerie silence descended upon the crowd.

Glancing about, Twilight could see them thinking. Not many were watching the events happening below. Hundreds of eyes were focused upon her, many of them thoughtful, some of them worshipful, but she saw nothing that resembled disapproval, which was an immense relief. The fact that they were so thoughtful was rather a hopeful thing, she realised. They had given her something to think about, and she had given them something to cogitate over in return.

Tit for tat.

“We wise guys gots the Goose and I gotta say, it feels pretty good, yous knows what I’m saying?” The pegasus who responded looked as awkward on the outside as Twilight felt on the inside, and his eyes nervously darted from side to side to see if everything was cool.

Another stallion, an earth pony, offered up one raised hoof, and after a moment of hesitation, the pegasus bumped it. In the midst of all this division, all this derision, all this tension, Twilight saw some hopeful signs of unity. This was why Twilight disliked guards; it was difficult, if not downright impossible, to have meaningful conversations from behind a wall of armor. Ponies were too nervous to speak their minds, for whatever reason.

“It’d be nice to have a voice close to a princess’ ear,” an awkward looking older filly with braces said. “These are trying times. I ask my Ma all the time, ‘Who speaks for us?’ And my Ma, she shakes her head and she gets mad, ‘cause there’s no good answer. It’s rough being us.”

“Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, she married a unicorn!”

“And the Royal Pony Sisters married a pegasus!”

“The Bastard Prince has Princess Celestia’s secretary! Rumour has it that she schtups him! Oy vey!”

“Prince Dim married a monster!” This caused ripples of awkward silence to radiate outward.

After the silence persisted for a time, it was broken with, “Yuck.”

Twilight, clever pony that she was, was getting a fine education into what the common Equestrian thought of their royals and the choices made. She almost said something about the monster remark, but was fearful of breaking her fragile connection with the crowd. Still, it bothered her in a terrible way and she longed to set ponies straight on the issue.

“Having more alicorns is nice,” an old, knobby kneed stallion said, “but I could overlook that if it meant one of us being a consort. Eh?”

“Maybe Princess Flurry can give us alicorns… she was born one!”

“Yeah!”

“More alicorns would be good!”

“But if you could hurry up and marry Seville, that’d be nice. We’d appreciate that! We want our moment! We want our time to shine! We want our bragging rights!”

“Yeah!”

“Seville,” Twilight said beneath her breath, unsure if he could hear her, “you’ve got to be feeling the pressure right about now.”

She now had an inkling of what her subjects wanted. Being a public servant, she owed them a measure of happiness and it was her sworn duty to protect their interests to the best of her ability. Her mind began assembling the various bits and pieces together, and sealed them in place with logic and rationality. By marrying and having foals, Twilight reckoned, it would be a level playing field for Seville—at least in the eyes of her subjects. Shining Armor had magic and was a brilliant commander. Gosling was a handsome bit of eye candy and was considered a great negotiator.

Seville… his advantage was what ponies believed that earth ponies did best: raise a family. Little by little, Twilight made the pieces fit. Little by little, her resentment for what they had said fell away from her. These were common ponies, with common dreams, who all shared common experiences, and this is what they knew. She couldn’t fault them for that.

Turning her head, she affixed a critical eye upon Seville. He was rough. Unlike Shining Armor, who had a shield to defend him, and Gosling, who had the good fortune of being magically attractive because it made others happy, Seville had no such advantages. He had scars—many of them—and his hide was like parchment, with each scar being a written word carved into his flesh as a reminder of his deeds. Seville was honest, like Applejack was honest, and he was an everypony.

Seville was the voice of his tribe, Twilight realised. He never shied away from how bad it was. He never candy-coated anything. He told the truth, even when the truth was what nopony wanted to hear. Squinting, Twilight tried to see what the earth ponies saw in Seville. She tried to see why he was well-loved and respected. Even Pinkie Pie had to see it.

Blinking, Twilight didn’t see it, because it wasn’t something that could be seen, but she had an idea of what it was. At least, she had some manner of epiphany. Seville represented an earth pony ideal: he was an intellectual. Among intellectuals, it didn’t matter if you had wings, or a horn, or even scales and firebreath. Seville had sought out a form of equality that mattered. If he had never revealed his face in public, nopony would have any idea who—or what—Seville was, and through his words he would be judged. Seville had slipped the surly bonds of tribe and found a means to express himself on equal hoofing.

Within Twilight’s breast, the fires of love became a raging inferno.

If one judged Seville upon the merits of what he had to say, any external tribal adornment was unnecessary. Seville was his words, his opinions, the gentle, simple way that he explained complex issues in simple terms. He had a knack for taking even the toughest issues, breaking them down to their most basic components, and making them understandable. Seville—through print—used the newspaper to educate, elucidate, elaborate, and emancipate.

Surrounded by her subjects, Twilight had a glimpse of the future, and it involved extensive education reform… directed exclusively at earth ponies. Even as she thought about it, she saw the issues with it, the outcry that would come. As it was now, most earth ponies got the short end of the stick when it came to education. Dropouts were a real problem. Literacy rates were lowest among earth ponies. She and Gosling had discussed this issue at length—red-eyed conversations in the wee hours of morning in the dark hours just before dawn when sane, normal ponies were sleeping.

She had, after all, just been given carte blanche authority; so why not use it?

Perhaps it was the best shot at equality.

It wasn’t favouritism when one tribe was clearly struggling more than the others. If anything, the pegasus ponies and the unicorns could be blamed here. Friends were supposed to save friends if a friend was in trouble. One tribe was floundering and was in dire need of help. Helping them wasn’t breaking the bonds of equality, it was maintaining them. Already, Twilight could see the sheer enormity of her task looming before her.

Thankfully, she already had some partners.

Author's Note

The faint, sweet, glorious light of hope... that shines the brightest just before it gets darkest.

Chapter 18

Applejack and Pinkie Pie were working with tweezers held in their mouths to arrange apple slices into a blooming flower bud. Each thin slice formed a sort of petal and the careful arrangement was time consuming. Thankfully, there were no time constraints and the judges roamed the floor, searching for finished projects. Twilight marvelled at the intricate, time consuming work being done, and was both shocked and surprised by how dextrous Pinkie’s lips were.

Pinkie Pie could do incredible things while kissing…

Now that the thought had entered her mind, Twilight couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Twilight watched, her attention divided, with her nose almost touching the see-through floor. She remained close to Seville, not minding that he was deep within her equinal space. Twilight wanted there to be overlap between them, but achieving that directive was remarkably complicated. There was a certain electric thrill in touching both Seville and Pinkie Pie in intimate, overly familiar ways.

Down below, Applejack and Pinkie Pie laboured away at their intricate task. Each slice of apple had been softened a bit, enough so that they could be bent, shaped, safely and without breaking. The apple slice petals were arranged tight in the middle, with a great deal of complicated overlap, and this density relaxed a bit as the bloom expanded.

To nibble sweetly upon the tender bloom…

Twilight was struck by another hot flash, but this one wasn’t so unpleasant. Something about blooms, blossoms, thin, tender petals, something about this caused her to contemplate her femininity. Up to this point in her life, it was an occasional indulgence; a nice dress for a ball, or gala; an afternoon in the spa with friends; trying out new manestyles; it was always an activity, typically something scheduled. Something planned. It was, at best, a pleasurable leisure activity, and at worst, a distraction. There were times when she absolutely hated being a mare—the sheer biology of it all was overwhelming, as well as being demeaning and degrading on occasion. Not that she wanted to be a stallion, either; that had its own particular challenges and Twilight knew that she was ill-equipped to deal with those. Being made of paper had some distinct advantages.

But then there were times like now, when she wanted to be a mare. When she wanted to be feminine. She wanted Seville to say pleasant, meaningful things into her ear; perhaps something about her intellect… or to casually mention how pretty she was. Twilight, who had spent most of her life ignoring her physical aspects to focus upon more intellectual pursuits, wanted to hear some appreciation for her physical form and gender. Why? It seemed so foolish and illogical… yet, here she was, thinking about it, obsessing over it.

Alas, there was no good reason why. It defied logic and rationality. Over the years, Twilight had forged an almost ironclad sense of utilitarianism and pragmatism—only to find herself being lured away from it by the promise of nonsensical, frivolous, silly things. All of Twilight’s thoughts and emotions worked themselves into one big bellowy whinny, which then escaped.

Very much like a yawn, the whinny spread in a contagious manner through the crowd.

Hearing hooves clomping on the catwalk, Twilight’s ears pivoted towards the sound and then she turned to look just as a tiny grinning earth pony filly approached. A pegasus mare—presumably the filly’s mother—stood a short, respectful distance away, flashing an apologetic smile.

“Hiya, Princess!” The filly’s greeting was delivered with a distinctly nasal voice. “Wanna hear a secret?”

Casting a glance at the pegasus mare, Twilight saw her shrug. The filly looked up and Twilight, looking down, wondered what the filly might have to say. Why share a secret? Foals shared silly secrets; time and time again, Twilight had been regaled with tales about pilfered cookie jars, stolen candy, mommies and daddies dressing up in strange costumes, foals had so many things to say, things they believed were secrets.

“Come closer,” requested the filly in a congested, nasal whisper.

Twilight lowered her head down, wary but curious.

“No, closer.” The filly took a step closer and almost tripped over her own hooves.

Twilight, overcome by her own curiousity, lowered her head down until her ear was less than an inch away from the filly’s muzzle, and she waited for the big secret to be revealed. The filly took a deep breath, which tickled Twilight’s ear. Silence. The worst of all outcomes. Was she having second thoughts? Twilight needed to know. She had to know. What secrets did the filly hold? Why was there a delay? Who did this to a princess, anyhow?

“Butts.”

It was a perfect deadpan delivery, but the filly’s composure did not hold. A giggle escaped, followed by a torrent of laughter while Twilight lifted her head. Shaking her head from side to side, her eyes rolling with astounding, fluid movement, Twilight sighed and then noticed the pegasus mare was struggling to hold herself together. A wing whipped out, there was a rustle of feathers, and then the mare, the filly’s mother no doubt, covered her face. Much sniggering came from behind the wing and a merry, devious twinkle could be seen in the mare’s eyes.

A hearty chuckle could be heard coming from Seville.

“Butts, you say…” Twilight took a deep breath during a particularly raucous peal of laughter that came from the filly. The worst thing happened; her mouth tried to betray her and she had to fight to keep the corners of her mouth under control. “What’s so funny about butts?”

“Pegasus ponies have the funniest butts,” the filly said between bleats of laughter.

“Is that so?” Twilight adopted the demeanour of a schoolmarm, which was basically her impression of Princess Celestia.

“Mama says that’s where clouds come from.”

Clouds of what? Twilight thought to herself.

“Mama also says that the sun shines out of Princess Celestia’s butt. But she uses a naughty word. She says it when somepony asks her a dumb question and she’ll tell them, ‘Does the sun shine out of Princess Celestia’s…’ you know.”

A resonating snort escaped from Twilight and she almost lost it completely.

“Dad is a scientist,” the filly said to Twilight. “He works in Canterlot sometimes. He says our butts are a marvel of biology. We have built in fumigators so spiders won’t make nests in our tails and lay eggs. He’s pretty smart, my dad.”

Something almost like a whimper came from Seville, followed by a raspy wheeze.

“Dad says that monsters won’t destroy the world, they won’t get the chance. He says pony butts are going to destroy the world. And cows. And other animals with fermenting guts. He says there’s too many of us now and even more of us are happening every day, and our butts are changing the, uh, comp… compos—”

“Composition?” Twilight said, trying to be helpful.

“Yeah, he says our butts are changing the composition of the atmosphere.”

Flabbergasted, Twilight stood at a loss for words.

“Dad is a butt scientist and he studies butts every day. Ponies think my dad is crazy. He loves to study Mama’s butt. We talk about butts a lot in our house, and all the things butts do. Butts do crazy stuff. I like saying the word ‘butts.’ It’s a great word. Butts.”

“Come on, Peony, I think you’ve pestered the princess enough.”

“Buh-bye!” The filly, Peony, raised one hoof and waved. “Maybe you could think about making my dad the Princess of Butt Studies?”

“I’ll, uh, ask around,” Twilight managed to say while also remembering to wave. “Goodbye, Peony.”

Humming to herself, little Peony pranced off to be with her mother once more.

Below, perfection bloomed. Perfection blossomed. The blooming apple blossom tart sat cooling on the counter and it was one of the most beautiful, most perfect things Twilight had ever seen. She was almost certain that the Golden Ratio had been applied to it in a multitude of ways. The red of the unpeeled apple slices gave it the appearance of a gorgeous rosebud.

Pinkie Pie and Applejack were artisans. They had done with time, dedication, and hard work a task that Twilight wasn’t sure that she could do. Oh, she might mimic the results, but she doubted that she could replicate the sheer perfection of what had been accomplished. And yet, another unicorn, a skilled, accomplished unicorn, might do all of this in mere seconds.

Twilight began to think of the consequences. This was an act that took time, effort, and skill. The tart, the end result of said work, would be expensive in a bakery; it would be a confection intended for special occasions, such as birthdays, weddings, and anniversaries. If enough unicorns began selling magically created blooming apple blossom tarts, the price would go down to almost nothing; the cost of the ingredients. The rarity, the aspect that made it special, would also go away; it would become commonplace, just one more thing on the menu to eat. Though it was difficult to put into words, into coherent thoughts, Twilight began to understand the problem here. Who would pay for perfection when they could get one that was good enough to be indistinguishable at a much lower price?

Twilight had never before contemplated the negatives to mass production.

Staring at the tart, she understood that she lacked a certain appreciation for the good things in life, the sweet treats that were meant to be special. For Applejack, ice cream meant filling up a churn with rock salt and ice, plus all of the ice cream ingredients, and then cranking away at it until there was sweet, delicious ice cream. For Twilight, it was taking a few raw ingredients and casting a spell—something her father had taught her how to do as a filly. There was no real effort in the act, no real work, so ice cream had always been a commonplace treat for her, while it was something that Applejack only whipped up for special occasions that warranted it.

Twilight now understood; the earth pony way of life was all about appreciating the rewards of hard work. It really, truly, totally and completely clicked into place. It was a concept that she was aware of, and had been for the longest time, but it was only now, at this moment, that she truly understood it. Dismissing it, discounting it, demeaning it, you undermined an earth pony’s very existence.

Yet, there was no going back. No stopping mass production. No stopping the supermarket, which had tubs of ice cream that could be enjoyed by anypony, at any time, a sweet, creamy, delicious treat no longer in need of a special occasion. Why work for it when you could have it now? Supermarkets and mass production threatened to utterly destroy the neighborhood bakery and other neighborhood industries. The shared hard work of the community was going to be severely devalued—and then what?

Twilight had her first glimmer of understanding about why so many earth ponies feared and hated money. Ponies like Seville’s parents, who favoured the peasant way of life and lived in absolute terror of money. They worked—hard work—and in return, they were housed, fed, and all of their basic needs were met. It was, by Twilight’s own estimation, a comfortable existence. Never once did they have to wonder what their time and effort was worth, they lived with the happy assurance that they were valued and that their labour meant something. They, and the other Oranges who lived on the communal orange farm, had never felt the sting of having their labour devalued or degraded.

They just bucked oranges all day and slept soundly in their comfortable beds at night.

Seville’s parents heard the siren’s call of capitalism and said, “No thanks.”

The ponies of Lulamoon Hollow were adamant about preserving their way of life. No mere communal farm, Lulamoon Hollow was a preserve, a sanctuary, and to visit that place meant going back in time. The peasantry held a surprising amount of power there, a tremendous amount of power. Sumac Apple had agreed to be their go-between, their representative to the outside world, the one who handled the dirty, disgusting task of finances, and Twilight suspected that Sumac had a better grasp upon this situation than she did.

But Twilight was only getting started.

Late to the game, she had a lot of catching up to do.

Pinkie Pie was smiling, but it was a forced smile. For the second time this day, the gaggle of judges poured into her cubicle to cast their judgment. Above, Twilight waited with bated breath, and when the tension ramped up to the point of being utterly unbearable, she pressed herself up against Seville.

“Nice seeing ya again, Gustave le Grand.” The strain could be heard in Pinkie’s voice.

The theatrical griffon did not respond, but was focused upon the tart. Squinting with one critical eye, he looked at it from every angle, even turning it a few times to take in every conceivable detail. His fellow judges leaned in and they too, scrutinised Pinkie’s tart. How many baked goods had they seen this day? How many tidbits sampled? Twilight wondered how they stayed focused, how they remained objective. Surely, at the end of the day, as the afternoon stretched into evening, they had to be sick of staring at and tasting food.

“Dare we cut this?” Arroz Amandine asked.

“We must,” another replied.

“Cut it,” commanded Gustave le Grand.

“Yes, let us discern the nature of perfection and see if it goes beyond the surface.”

Once more brandishing her knife, Arroz sliced a triangle from the tart and laid it out upon a plate. Somehow, the slice did not fall apart. Astonished, Twilight gasped. How did the slices of apple hold together? How did it retain its shape? From the looks of things, Twilight was not alone, as the judges also marvelled at the resiliency of the now-sliced tart.

Beside Pinkie, Applejack looked more than a little sweaty.

“Extraordinary.” A fat stallion examined the tart with his head tilted back so that he might peer through his bifocal spectacles. “I have never seen a more visually appealing dessert.”

One of the judges took a picture of both the tart and the slice, capturing both of them on film. A delightful, runny brown ooze was now seeping from the slice and spreading over the white plate. Gustave leaned against the counter and absentmindedly drummed his claws against the surface while he contemplated the tart.

After a good deal of looking, the griffon peeled away one thin slice of apple, which came off whole, firm, and did not break. It was not mushy, limp, nor lifeless. With a flick of his talons, he flipped it into his beak and then just stood there, doing nothing, nothing at all. As if on cue, the others also tried a bite. Much thoughtful chewing took place, no doubt to determine factors like mouth feel and what not.

Twilight felt faint. She needed to know. Had to know. This anticipation was killing her. Unable to stop herself, she squirmed and when she could not get comfortable, she wickered in protest of the cruelty of the world. How would the judges judge? What if a judge didn’t like apples? Or tarts in general? How could food judges be non-biased against foods they disliked?

Not one bit of tart was spit out into the little paper collection cups that waited.

“That exquisite spicy bite,” a judge said to both Pinkie Pie and Applejack. “Is that rum?”

“It’s how we softened the apples,” Applejack replied, “so we could shape ‘em. It also preserves them and keeps them from turning too brown, so you have that nice, pleasant white colour that ya see.”

“Iz clever.” Gustave nodded and then, before anypony could stop him, he sampled another bite.

“I was wondering how the apples were so fresh and white looking, and not pasty.” Arroz Amandine peeled off another slice of apple and held it up so that she might have a better look. “It’s not mealy in the slightest.”

“Nuttin’ is worse than a mealy apple pie,” Applejack remarked while her hooves did a nervous shuffle.

With Applejack’s statement still hanging in the air, the judges pulled into a tight huddle and began to converse amongst themselves. Twilight strained to listen, but all she could hear was the roar of dull noise all around her. Her hearing was, perhaps, a bit too good, and she was deafened in this situation. Applejack was looking downright damp at the moment and Pinkie Pie… poor Pinkie Pie. Every warning sign was present and accounted for.

Soft whispers were being exchanged and Gustave snatched up another thin slice of apple from the triangle of tart. Impaled on a claw, he held it in front of him while the hushed discussion continued. The insides of Twilight’s thighs drew tight, painfully so, and the muscles that powered her wings felt as though they would crush her ribs. Faces grew stern and there seemed to be an argument, or at least a heated discussion taking place.

“Think of the extraordinary effort,” an earth pony judge said in a voice loud enough to be heard, and this caused the rest of the judges to go silent.

From above, Applejack could be seen chewing on her lip and Twilight worried that her friend might draw blood. The judges returned to their heated discussion. Pinkie’s legs were twitchy enough to make her curls bounce and she couldn’t hold her tail still. Up on the catwalk, Twilight felt as though she couldn’t breathe, and several ponies around her were chewing on their hooves. Seville didn’t seem disturbed in the slightest, but he didn’t get ruffled until something exploded or somepony suggested he get on a train with Gosling. Of course, Seville had trotted through active war zones armed with nothing but a camera.

Reaching into his white jacket, Gustave le Grande pulled out something that flashed gold in the harsh white lights. When he put it down beside the tart, there was a distinct metallic thunk of metal striking wood. Turning his head, he looked Pinkie Pie in the eye for a moment, then glanced at Applejack. No words were said, but a solemn, dignified nod was offered.

Twilight could only see the gold chip for but a moment, then her vision went blurry, obscured by the sudden manifestation of excessive eye moisture.

As a group, the judges departed, saying nothing, but celebrity chef Arroz Amandine offered up both a wave and a smile. Pinkie watched them, smiling, her whole body trembling, but her composure would not—could not hold. The forced smile plastered across her face began to crumble. Bit by bit it fell away and her blue eyes turned glassy.

The deluge struck with terrific force.

Rearing up, she flung her forelegs around Applejack’s neck and began bawling. It was an awful sound, heartbreaking like nothing else. Pinkie’s hind legs gave away and her hindquarters hit the gleaming tile floor with a muffled whump. Applejack, the stoic, endured all of this for a time, unmoving, but then she finally reacted and pulled Pinkie into a tight hug. The pink mare was bawling with enough force that she honked and each one caused the ponies up on the catwalk to jump—Twilight included.

As for Applejack, well… she was known to cry on the inside.

Author's Note

Chapter 19

When Twilight kissed Pinkie’s cheek, it was still damp and somewhat salty. Pinkie Pie started to say something, her mouth opened, and there was a sound, but then the hitching of her barrel started anew. Robbed of speech, Pinkie Pie flung herself against Twilight and sniffled. Sitting on the other side of Pinkie Pie, Seville did his best to console her, but in spite of his best efforts, the tears continued their steady trickle.

“Jackie, you okay?” Seville asked while giving Pinkie a squeeze.

“I’m fine.” A pause. “Mostly. It’s hard to see Pinkie this way.”

“Yeah… cheer up, Pinks, you won.” With a deft motion of his hoof, Seville swept Pinkie’s wet, clingy mane away from her eyes. “We should retire back to our room. There’s a pregnant mare up there that’d love to eat that.” His eyes glanced in the direction of the tart and then in Twilight’s direction. “I think Pinks could use some peace and quiet. What say you, my little Sugar Sparkle?”

For a second, it felt as though she had swallowed her own uvula and Twilight let out a little cough. Sugar Sparkle? That was a new one. It caught her completely off guard and truth be told, it felt pretty good to be addressed in such a manner. Applejack sniffled a bit, wiped her eyes with her foreleg, and then managed an honest smile.

“Shucks, I have all those silly blue ribbons of mine, but not a one of them feel as important as this does. All those rodeos will keep going forever. But this… this is an end. Feels like a mighty good end.”

At this, Pinkie Pie began bawling again, this time with incredible volume.

“Good going, Jackie.”

“How was I supposed to know?”

“Poor Pinks… she quit her job. She stopped taking her pill.” Seville’s eyebrow arched beneath the crooked brim of his weathered fedora and the corners of his mouth were tugged downwards, which caused his chin to dimple. “No wonder her emotions are a mess. Come on, let’s get her upstairs so we can get her sorted out.”

A sleepy Bundt Buttercream yawned as she emerged from the bathroom. Eyes closed, Pinkie Pie stood with her face over the air conditioning vent, and she seemed to be recovering. Over at the table, Seville was sorting out the crystalline recording rods; the ones that held a recording had a vivid blue glow about them. With Bundt now out of the bathroom, Applejack slipped through the door with a sheepish, apologetic grin.

Twilight’s memories clouded the present and yet again, she found herself thinking of Skyreach. Transfixed by Seville’s recording rods, she now had an unfocused, blank stare and vacant expression. A means to end all wars, a means to turn hatred and aggression against itself; a brilliant weapon gone terribly, horribly wrong. Something that had begun with good intentions, the best of intentions, but ended with hatred given life and body. Twilight shivered and her lower jaw quivered while she swallowed, trying to work up some saliva to end the dryness that had turned her tongue to leather.

A way to enforce harmony, a means to coerce unity. What was meant to be a magical solution to compel creatures to live together and end conflict held the potential to end all life. Twilight could see the merits of what lead to the ill-fated decision. How sound the idea must have seemed at the time. Create a force that discouraged conflict and pacified aggression, with the only means to stop it being to live in total and absolute peace. But living in peace did nothing to quell the secret hatred that existed in the hearts of many, the subtle undertones of aggression in almost everything. The centaurs believed in such simple goodness—how it must have hurt them to realise the secret wellsprings of hatred that existed in their creations.

Twilight knew what hatred lurked in the hearts of her fellow equines, and it pained her. Four friends had battled that hatred; Tarnished Teapot, Daring Do, Rainbow Dash, and Vinyl Scratch. Four fast friends whose incredible friendship reinforced everything that Twilight wanted to believe. Stout hearted, resolute, unflappable, unbreakable friendship. Together, they had faced the horrors of Skyreach and ultimately, they struck down hatred given life and form.

Just like the Founders of Equestria, they had done so with friendship.

That hatred had tried to find purchase within them, it had tried to take root. It burrowed into their very souls, searching for the sense of tribalism, a powerful source of conflict that it could feed upon. It could not be found. Even the teeniest, tiniest mote of tribal-based hatred would have been their undoing—their end. The hatred had come looking for something to eat, something to consume, and had come away hungry.

It was a relief to Twilight to know at least four ponies unblemished by hatred.

She had proof.

Remarkable proof.

“Twilight? You feeling alright?”

Eyelids fluttering, she turned to look at Seville, startled from her thoughts.

“You had that thousand-yard stare again. That look that ponies get after seeing war and death.” Several wrinkles appeared on Seville’s brow while he studied Twilight’s face.

“I was just thinking about how fortunate I am to know some truly extraordinary ponies.” It was an honest enough response; not the whole truth, but not exactly a lie either. Seville was looking at her with such a fierce intensity that it made her cheeks grow hot. The look of concern upon his face touched her in some profound way that she could never express. She had seen many expressions upon his face; lust, desire, mirth, longing. But moments like this one, and faces like the one he wore right now, Twilight knew that she was loved. No mere conquest, no prize.

The affirmation was fulfilling in ways that she never knew she needed until now.

Reaching out her left front hoof, she booped Seville on the nose.

“Why I oughta…” he said, grumbling whilst she pulled away.

“Boss, if you don’t mind me saying”—Bundt offered up an awkward grin—“you’ve found quite a special fella.”

Twilight found herself blushing.

“It’s rare to find a gentlepony.” Bundt held her breath, eased herself into a chair, sat down, and let out her held breath in an enormous huff. “Or maybe it’s just me. I’ve only met the worst sorts. Might be the industry.”

“Goose and I, we have something in common. We’re terrified of our mothers.” Seville’s eyes darted around the room, perhaps as if he worried that his mother might pop out of hiding at any given second. “Don’t get me wrong, my Pops, he can be a scary guy when he’s got the angries, but my Ma… alicorns preserve me. She’s relentless. I’m pretty sure that Gosling’s Ma, Sleet, I think she’d tear me a new one if I screwed up. His Ma and my Ma would take turns.”

Eyebrow arching, Twilight cast a curious glance at Seville.

“Don’t look at me like that, Dollface. You’ve met my mother. I live in a castle with princesses. I’m in a relationship with one. And you know how my Ma is. If I step one hoof outta line, she’s gonna finish breaking that crack that I have in my ass. And Sleet? Sleet has wings. Sleet is certain death from above.”

“I haven’t met too many fellas afraid of their mothers,” Bundt said to nopony in particular. “In fact, most of the guys I know treat their mothers like garbage. No respect at all. And if I was to be completely honest, some of those mares were kinda trashy. I feel bad for saying it, but it’s true. I think I’ve been exposed to a different class of pony for most of my life.”

“Don’t get me wrong or get the wrong idea,” said Seville, his eyes narrow and thoughtful. “My Ma, she’s not abusive. She’s just… well… she’s... “ His words trailed off into a sigh, he shrugged, and shook his head from side to side. “I don’t know how to say it without making her sound bad. She holds me accountable by any means necessary. My actions determine the means and what is necessary. I don’t ever want to give her an excuse to set me straight, because I know she will.”

“And that’s why you’re the fine, understanding pony that you are today.” Bundt’s head bobbed up and down. “I can dig that. Look what it’s got you.”

“Yeah.” Seville’s eyes cast a quick glance in Pinkie’s direction, and then Twilight’s.

For some reason, Twilight thought of Sumac’s fear of his own mothers, all three of them.

“If I was to do something questionable to Twilight or Pinks… or do something to jeopardise my good standing with the Royal Pony Sisters, my Ma would plant me in a shallow grave beneath an orange tree. I guess that sounds bad? Maybe it is.” Seville rubbed the side of his neck where his camera brace often rested. “The point is, I know how to avoid it. All I gotta do is behave myself and treat mares with the same respect I give my mother and everything is fine.”

“That’s not such a bad thing.” Bundt rested her front hooves upon the rounded curve of her stomach, sighed, and then squirmed in her chair in an attempt to get comfortable.

“My mother keeps Tarnish on the straight and narrow,” Pinkie Pie said from where she stood over the air conditioning vent. “My not-so-special somepony… I don’t think his mother raised him right.”

“Feeling better, Pinks?”

“Yeah… I just got super-emotional there for a bit.” Pinkie turned her body around and parked her hindquarters over the vent in the floor. “I still felt kinda bad that Twilight couldn’t join me and then Applejack and I did all that work and then the gold chip happened and I was still pretty unsettled about Twilight not being able to join the fun and everything felt super-weird. For a minute there, I was really conflicted about getting a gold chip, but, now, I’m okay. I think. Maybe? Hard to tell.”

“Anything I can do to help?” Seville asked, his face concerned, solemn.

“Wanna help me make a cream pie?” Pinkie replied with equal seriousness.

The sudden coughing fit almost knocked Twilight right out of her chair and when she went to breathe, all she could do was splutter. Stars danced in her vision, stars that bore a remarkable resemblance to her cutie mark. Shrill laughter could be heard over the sound of her coughing and spluttering, but only just barely.

“Nope. No, not okay. Not okay at all. Here we go.” Pinkie Pie shook her head from side to side, and then, with the same suddenness that it had started with, she was bawling her eyes out once more.

“It feels weird, being around decent ponies, ya know?”

No, Twilight didn’t know and she looked up from her trough of salad. Her new assistant was distressed, visibly so, and Twilight wasn’t sure how to respond. Perhaps the best thing she could do right now was listen, because there was a lesson here, uncomfortable though it might be. Twilight maintained a stable of decent ponies, helpers that did her bidding, and for the first time, she wondered if they were a sort of insulating barrier.

“Like, Bourgogne Blintz, she’s fairly decent and professional, but she’s not nice. There’s a coldness there. And some of those stallions she’s got working for her? I was terrified of being caught alone in a room with them. Real aggressive types. Power broker types. They truly believe the world owes them something. They don’t know how to take no as an answer, which is why Bourgogne employs them. No is just an invitation for aggressive negotiations, as they’re fond of saying, and this is applied to just about every aspect of their lives.”

Applejack was still grazing, but her eyes now focused on Bundt.

“I find it very strange how safe I feel around Seville.” Bundt wiped her muzzle with her foreleg and her face flushed dark with extra colour. “Life is a funny thing. I grew up never feeling safe. I had my Ma’s stories as all the reason I needed to trust nopony. The big city is a jungle, ya know? A big concrete jungle.”

“It is,” Seville said, his words soft-spoken.

“I barely know you all, but I feel like I can relax.”

Now, Twilight just felt awkward.

“When I was a filly, I traveled to Manehattan,” Applejack said while lifting her head from her salad trough. “Thought maybe big city life was for me. I had this notion that it’d be fantastic and there’d be glamour. So I packed up and left to stay with some family. The Oranges.” Her eyes darted in Seville’s direction, lingered for a time, and then returned to Bundt. “When I’s at the train station, a strange mare approached me and asked me if I wanted to make a few bits. She said I could meet her friends and become a movie star.” The apple farmer fell silent, and her lips pressed into a tight, straight line.

Twilight’s appetite came dangerously close to departing with all due haste.

“We got the same hustle,” Bundt replied. “From the looks of things, you said no. I said yes.” She shrugged and for a time, her mouth moved but no words came out. After a few seconds of struggling, she finally managed to say, “I had no idea what I was getting into. Ma never asked where I got the bits I brought home. We needed them just to keep the rent paid and the lights on. It’s just capitalism, ya know? I had something that somepony else wanted, and I learned how to trade it for bits. I got smart fast. Now here I am… in a strange place.”

Rather than be angry, sad, or depressed, rather than allow hopelessness to sink in, Twilight summoned up her pragmatic nature. Bundt was an asset. She had knowledge unique to her experience. This knowledge, like all knowledge, was valuable. Twilight was canny enough to exploit it, but she also knew that she had to be exceedingly careful so that Bundt would never feel exploited. There had been enough ruthless exploitation already and Bundt had suffered enough. Twilight, staring down at her salad, began to think of ways of getting her new assistant to feel that her experiences were a valuable, indispensable asset.

Had Bourgogne Blintz done the same?

The thought left Twilight troubled. There was a difference though; Twilight wanted what was best for all ponies, including Bundt, while Bourgogne only wanted to push her own agenda. Starlight Glimmer came to mind and Twilight’s thought’s went to dark, unwanted places. Cults of personality were dangerous things. As dangerous as Starlight had been, Mister Mariner had been even more dangerous. He had taken Starlight’s message, cleaned it up, packaged it for neat, tidy consumption, and then had sold it to the masses. The desperate, disenfranchised masses. Starlight and Mariner both were the strange mare in the train station, preying upon those who faced uncertainty.

Twilight understood that if she gave everypony a future somehow, the strange mare would have no takers. But that was the tricky, difficult part; assuring everypony a future. The world was changing faster than society could keep up. Outside of Equestria, the world was a terrible, dreadful place. She had seen it, witnessed it, and now lived in fear of it. But Equestria was at risk too. It couldn’t run forever on the memories of past glories. The glorious heydays of Feudal Equestria were now barely even memories for most. Holdouts like Seville’s parents were few and far between. Equestria’s Civil War? Soon, that generation would be gone, and with it, the lessons painfully learned. Equestria was coasting, waiting for the next big thing.

Trixie Lulamoon insisted that a return to feudalistic roots was the only thing that could save them…

Could the past survive a collision with the future?

“I want to help you, Twilight Sparkle.”

Jolted from her thoughts, Twilight focused upon her new assistant.

“I want to help make society decent again. I want this.” She gestured at the ponies gathered around the table. “It should be like this for everypony. Whatever it is that you have planned, I want to be a part of it. It feels so good just to feel safe again. Everypony deserves this, ya know?”

“Miss Buttercream… you and I are going to do extraordinary things together.”

Author's Note

And now we move on...

Chapter 20

“You know,” said Seville while eyeballing his breakfast, “sometimes, I think about how mundane my life is and I get depressed.”

Twilight, having been to the decidedly mundane world beyond the mirror, cast a sidelong glance at the stallion beside her. “You ride back and forth to Canterlot in a blimp and you’re in love with a magical pony princess.”

This got a shrug out of Seville, there was something that was almost a ‘harrumph,’ and then with his most deadpan delivery he replied, “The blimp is kinda boring. As for the magical pony princess—”

“Hey!” Twilight snapped, and she knew that she had to speak to Seville in a language he understood. “What’s the big idea? Why I oughta…” Raising her hoof, she waved it back and forth in front of Seville’s nose, causing his eyes to follow it.

Across the table, Bundt and Pinkie Pie were snickering, while Applejack watched with casual interest, no doubt waiting for the scene to play out. Unexpectedly, Twilight found that this banter put her in an excellent mood. Reaching out, she patted Seville on the cheek and then returned her attention to her breakfast.

“No, really.” Seville eased his bulk to rest against the edge of the table and stared down at his food. “All those stories yesterday. Listening to all those earth ponies. We all share so many of the same frustrations. There’s things I’d like to do. Or just do better. But I’m stuck being me.”

“That’s the way of it,” Applejack muttered. “Apple Bloom hit a moment of crisis while in university. She got fed up and had a pretty bad reaction. Came home to Sweet Apple Acres and that just made everything worse. I told her she had to make peace with it, ‘cause what choice did she have? I told her what she needed to hear, but I don’t s’pose it helped.”

“That’s why I like staying with my sister, Maud. There’s usually a unicorn around.” Pinkie Pie, who seemed to be of good cheer this morning, had a tremendous glob of oatmeal clinging to her nostril.

“And now, there’s a unicorn at Sweet Apple Acres.” A truly sour expression crept over Applejack’s face. “Shucks, I like Sugar Belle… but I worry about us gettin’ lazy. If’n you don’t use it, you lose it.”

“I don’t understand.” Twilight leaned over the table and regarded her friend Applejack with a thoughtful frown.

“It starts with a little bit of laziness. You get a unicorn to open a difficult jar, or maybe cast one of them repair spells on something. But it’s more insidious than that—”

Twilight leaned forwards a bit more. “Insidious?”

“Dadgummit, I read.” Applejack jerked her head back and let out a mighty snort. “It’s more insidious than that, as I was saying. If’n you ain’t careful, soon, you stop doing things for yerself. All that fine control starts to go away. And that’s the cost of laziness. Those difficult jars? You can’t open them. You traded away fine control for convenience. Soon, the unicorn is doing everything and you… you’re helpless. Then, you’re dependent on them, and that’s the worst.”

“Applejack, there is no shame in asking a friend for help—”

“Yeah, there is.” Ears angling forwards, Applejack narrowed her eyes while her expression turned stubborn. “Friends ain’t always there. You gotta do things on your own. I don’t wanna do things faster, or easier. It’s like that friendship lesson with the cider. In the long run, magic only messes things up and makes life more complicated. Our way, the earth pony way, proved to be the best way.”

“Do you really believe that?” an astonished Twilight asked.

“Yes.” There was no hesitation. “Having Sugar Belle around has only confirmed my worst suspicions. Even worse, she’s using her wiles to weedle her way into Big Mac’s head and it won’t be long afore he’s helpless. I don’t want that for my brother. I hate it. I hate every goldurn minute of it and there ain’t nothing I can do about it ‘cept watch.”

“Applejack, I—”

“I woke up in a mood to be real honest, Twi… something ‘bout being round these ponies, it’s set me off.” Green eyes glittering, Applejack’s intense frown turned somewhat apologetic, but retained its stubborn quality. “The stink of desperation is in the air, Twilight. It’s a bad scene. Everything is coming to an end and this feels more like a goodbye party.”

Before Twilight could respond, Pinkie Pie said, “It kinda does.” These words came out as a prolonged sigh.

Freaked out and a little alarmed, Twilight turned to face Bundt and asked, “Does it?”

Averting her eyes, Bundt managed a nervous nod of agreement, but said nothing.

“A goodbye party?” Twilight glanced around the table, feeling like the odd pony out.

“When this is gone, what else do we have?” Pinkie Pie squirmed in her seat and she too, could not look Twilight in the eye. “This was our time to shine in the sun, but now there’s a rotten cloud hanging over it and no pegasus pony to make it go away. The picnic is over. My Pinkie Sense tells me that I am surrounded by depressed ponies who no longer know or understand their purpose. I just try to block it out and focus on what I came to do, but it’s hard. Jackie is right… this feels like an end.”

“Seville…” Twilight turned all of her attention on him with the hopes that he would somehow make it better.

“Toots, I’m writing a memorial. The gig is up. The scene is dead. The body’s not yet cold, but we’ve gathered to remember a life well lived. I’m here to collect stories of how it was, so not everything is forgotten.”

Just as Twilight was about to ask a series of questions, there was a heavy knocking upon the door.

When Twilight pulled open the door, she saw a red-eyed, panting Bourgogne Blintz. Already knowing why Miss Blintz was here, she used magic to silence the mare before she could begin shouting and Twilight took a moment to draw in a deep breath so that she herself could remain calm. Though jittery on the inside, Twilight appeared cool on the outside.

“Accuse me of lying and I’ll summon Wardens to sort you out. Not one word of slander, not one accusation of lying. Do so, and I will further wreak your utter and absolute ruination. Something tells me that you lack the understanding of what I am fully capable of. There’s a reason why I’m a princess, and you… you’re the figurehead of a cult of celebrity. Nod if you understand.”

“Wow”—Applejack’s voice came from behind Twilight—“that’s ruthless.”

“That’s the freshest, newest asshole I’ve seen torn all year,” Bundt remarked.

Directing a baleful, hateful stare at Twilight, Miss Blintz nodded.

Relaxing her magic, Twilight waited.

Miss Blintz’s mouth opened, there was a gasp, but then no words came out. She tried again, then again, but remained speechless. Twilight, patient, waited. Whatever it was that Miss Blintz had to say, she was clearly having some second thoughts. It was almost amusing, and the Snarkle Sharkle that lurked within wanted to show its toothy smile, but Twilight remained stony and stoic.

“You’re smart enough to save yourself.” Twilight drew herself up to her full height and looked down upon Miss Blintz.

“Miss Blintz… a word of advice.” Seville was, as usual, unflappably polite. “Never pick a fight with ponies who buy ink by the barrel. I’d tip my hat to you and say good day, but I’m currently hatless. My apologies.”

Unseen by Twilight, Pinkie Pie somehow produced a weathered green fedora and with a toss of perfect kinesthetic control, made it land upon Seville’s head. Meanwhile, Twilight struggled to contain the Snarkle Sharkle, which was proving far more difficult than previously anticipated. As for Miss Blintz, she was still doing her best fish impression.

“Boss, do you want me to schedule you a meeting for later? Miss Blintz seems at a loss for words. Just say the words, boss, and I’ll send her packing.”

“I appreciate that, Miss Buttercream, but I’ve got this.”

“You…” Bourgogne Blintz almost spat out the word. “I confided in you. I told you the truth with the hopes that you would be smart enough to understand. I wanted to bring you on board. What I revealed was meant to allow us to cooperate… so we could be friends, you and I! I had no idea that you’d stoop so low as to betray me.”

“Seems to me that you don’t understand how friends work,” Twilight replied in her best schoolmarm voice. “If you treat your friends anything like you treat your employees, I’d venture a guess that you are about to face a great deal of trouble—alone.” The Snarkle Sharkle surfaced, a dreadful leviathan that lurked within the deepest, darkest, snarkiest depths of Twilight Sparkle. “I’d insult your friends like you did mine, but I don’t think you have any.”

“Ooooh… I wish my sister was here.” Pinkie’s exaggerated whisper carried across the room. “Or my niece, Pebble.”

“I revealed the truth to you so that we’d understand each other.” The crimson spiderwebs in Bourgogne Blintz’s eyes seemed to grow thicker, they intensified, and now, the whole of her body trembled. “My great work… the great cause… you don’t even know what you’ve done. How could you do this? You’ve hobbled all of us! Every earth pony present for this bake-off… I was working to secure for us some kind of future—”

“Your methods are trash.” Twilight’s calm interruption silenced Miss Blintz. “I am absolutely certain that you’ve done more harm than good. You… you’ve weaponised Princess Cadance’s great work. You’ve taken her efforts to make the world a better, more loving, more compassionate place, and you’ve used those methods to bull-bait others, to browbeat them, to inflict great, unspeakable harm. Random harm… just to discern who you’re dealing with, as you put it in your own words. The gig is up, Miss Blintz. You’ve been defanged. I encourage you to continue your activism, but do so with better methods. Do no harm.”

“You say do no harm, but what of the harm done to me, you… you.. you hypocrite! By harming me, you’ve harmed all of us! You’ve harmed the cause! You… you’ve set us back! I worked for us! For our future! You could have approached me and you and I could have settled our differences in private, but you… you… you just had to do this! Did you promise to suck his fucking cock in exchange for a spot on the front page? Don’t think I’ll go quietly!”

Biting her lip, Twilight slammed the door in Miss Blintz’s face.

“Don’t think I’ll go quietly!” Miss Blintz shouted through the door.

Then, then there was silence.

When Twilight turned around, she saw her friends staring at her, each of them with their own expression, a different reaction upon each face. Silence lurked in the hallway beyond the door, dreadful—but appreciated—silence. She stretched out her wings, spreading them wide, and then flexed them to try and ease the tension in her tendons. The burble of the water in the fountain before her offered no comfort and only served as a distraction.

Seville—who took off his hat, he was sitting at the table after all—let out a resigned, weary sigh and said, “That could hurt me. Well, us. That could hurt us. If she plants that idea in the mind of the public, it’ll be difficult to make it go away. You and I… we… you and I… are…” Words failed the earnest reporter and his head bowed, defeated.

Pinkie Pie spoke, and it was almost a whine. “It’s gonna be a long day.”

Bundt Buttercream, rather unperturbed by everything, shrugged and then brushed her mane away from her eyes with her foreleg. “I bet she rubbed her eyes with onions. I’ve watched her do it to prepare for big emotional confrontations. She gave me lots of advice on how to manipulate others, how to use my charms as a mare, and how to play upon the sympathy of others. Boss, if it makes you feel any better, I think you were being played.”

A disgruntled whinny escaped Twilight, and she stood pawing the floor.

“Are you shittin’ me?” An incredulous Applejack leaned over and gave Bundt a good stern stare. “Tell me you’re shittin’ me.”

“I’m telling the truth.” Bundt sucked in a deep breath, almost wheezing, and looked Applejack right in the eye. “I’m telling the truth. Really and truly. I’m finally around decent ponies and I don’t wanna risk losing what I have, here. Like my job. I think my boss would know if I was lying.”

“Sumbitch.” Rolling her eyes, Applejack shoved her bowl away and almost knocked over her glass. “If’n I ever meet that thundercunt ever again, me, Bucky McGillicuddy and Kicks McGee are gonna work her her sorry ass over until she has something furreal to cry about. I’ll buck her to Princess Luna’s moon.”

“This changes nothing. Pinkie, you’re going to be the very best baker you can be, and we’re all here for you.” Twilight took yet another deep, calming breath, just as Cadance had taught her. “Applejack, stick close to Bundt. After what just happened, Miss Blintz might do something petty and stupid. Seville… if you can… check out the mood and opinions of the earth ponies. I want to know how they feel after this morning’s newspaper. Once I know the reaction and opinion, I’ll have a better idea of what to do next, should this situation continue to develop.”

Applejack and Seville exchanged a glance with one another, then both looked at Twilight. Together, as if on cue, they nodded.

“We have a long day ahead of us, and we must make the most of it.”

Author's Note

Here we go now...

Chapter 21

Twilight, as was so often the case, was surrounded by an exceptional number of foals, as well as a few adults. The Princess of Friendship Story Hour was a mighty popular event and she had found a quiet corner for all to come and gather. Today’s story was a real favourite among foals and adults of all ages, Hitut the Unlikeable Elephant, a story about an elephant who had trouble making friends. This book had first come to Twilight’s attention when Sumac Apple had asked her to read it to him one day.

She was soon to reach the part that was a crowd-favourite, the part with the crocodile witch doctor, one exceptionally gassy elephant who had trouble making friends, a cork, and a brave spider named Anansi who flew across the ocean while riding the previously mentioned cork. For some baffling reason, foals really, truly loved this part of the story.

There were already giggles of anticipation and Twilight could not hold back her smile. The trick to reading to foals was to find a book they wanted to listen to. You couldn’t read them books about thaumaton agitation and expect to hold their attention for long. So, Twilight had exposed herself to quite a number of silly books during her many Princess of Friendship Story Hours.

She had their rapt attention, their love, their worship and adoration. So many bright eyes looked up at her. Little ears were pricked and pivoted front-facing, to hear her every word. It was during these precious moments that Twilight most felt like both a librarian and a princess. She was living the dream. In this, there was both fulfillment and enrichment.

“And so it came to pass, the brave, courageous little spider known as Anansi boarded the cork and prepared for his trans-oceanic flight…”

With a sigh, Twilight Sparkle closed Hitut the Unlikeable Elephant and there was a soft, muted sound that was unique to well-loved books being shut. She looked at the crowd, trying to read their faces, trying to gage their moods, and noticed that there were a few more adults here than before. After a few moments, she determined that she still had their attention, and she saw an opportunity to teach.

“Some friendships are more challenging than others. Like Hitut… he was an unlikeable elephant through no real fault of his own. But a zebra did what others had not, and tried to be Hitut’s friend. This led to a remarkable series of events that ultimately brought Anansi’s unique magic to Equestria. Anybody who has studied my friendship principles can see the similarities here.”

“I study those in school,” a colt near the front row said.

“Some of the best friendships you can have are the ones that challenge you. The ones that are not easy. Sometimes, you have to come out of your comfort zone, and when you do this, you have a chance to grow as a pony. We equines become stressed and have severe anxiety responses when we’re put in unfamiliar, uncomfortable situations. It is part of our nature as a species, but it is not impossible to overcome. There was a time in my life when I would have been absolutely paralysed trying to talk to a crowd of strangers… like all of you. But as the Princess of Friendship, I have no choice but to deal with crowds.”

They were thinking. Most of them. Even some of the adults. She saw this as a good sign.

“Do any of you have a tough friendship that takes some work? Raise those hooves!”

Far fewer hooves raised than Twilight had hoped, had expected. Not many at all. But a few raised hooves were better than no raised hooves, so she forced her smile to stay right where it was. Scanning the crowd, she found an earth pony filly that seemed far more eager than the others, a foal just bursting to share.

“You,” Twilight called out while pointing at the filly.

“Me?” she (the filly) asked.

“Yes, you.” Twilight nodded.

“I made friends with the only pegasus in my school!” The filly’s natural exuberance left her voice rather shrill. “He’s a colt, and he’s kinda gross. But he’s smart! He’s an egghead, like me! In fact, he’s the only other egghead and we can be smart together, which is neat. He has a lizard cutie mark and he wants to study dragons and reptiles.”

“Tell me,” Twilight said, taking in every spoken word of the filly, “What do you want to study? Do you know yet?”

Put on the spot, the filly squirmed as many heads turned to look at her. “My cutie mark is three test tubes, which is kinda generic and science-y, which means I can be anything and do anything. It’s kinda gross and super yucky, but I want to study the reproductive sciences.” A long pause took place and the filly’s face darkened considerably. In a low, squeaky voice she added, “Sex science.”

Twilight blinked. There would surely be some tense, uncomfortable study-buddy sessions later on, and she sympathised with the filly’s parents. Oh, that would get awkward soonish, if it wasn’t already. What a brave little filly, to share what she had shared. What a courageous friendship, becoming friends with the only pegasus in her school.

And a colt, no less. Twilight had seen the great divide herself; little colts and little fillies tended to stay far, far apart, though there were exceptions. That is, until they hit a certain age and then keeping them apart became a challenge. The change was sudden, rather off-putting, and happened with no real warning. As a teacher, as an educator, she lived in fear of it. But as a scientist, she rather enjoyed observing it.

“You”—she pointed at a colt and her sudden attention caused him a great deal of alarm—“tell us about your friendship challenge.”

The colt’s ears pinned back, almost fearful, and his eyes darted around, meeting the gaze of the foals who now stared at him, waiting to hear what he had to say. His sheepish, fearful expression persisted for a time, but then Twilight saw courage creep into his expression. He sat on his haunches, rubbing his front hooves together, and after taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes.

“My best friend is a burro.” The colt’s eyes opened in a cautious manner and he looked around.

Much to Twilight’s dismay, she saw disgust in far too many faces—mostly adults. Perhaps her hopes best rested in the young. But the young learned these behaviours, these reactions from somewhere. Now, she saw anger in the little colt’s face, and this anger turned to outright defiance. Pride swelled in Twilight’s heart.

“I don’t care what my mom says, or how she punishes me. Dad says I’m doing right.”

“It can be very difficult to know that you are disappointing your mother.” Twilight’s sympathy caused her heart to ache for the colt. “Sometimes, doing right is very hard. Sometimes, it will get you punished. It is a difficult path to tread, because sometimes it is very difficult to know what is right. Especially when a parent, a teacher, or somepony that you trust a great deal tells you that what you are doing is wrong.”

Everything was interrupted by a pegasus mare swooping in and coming to a hovering halt just in front of Twilight.

“They’re shutting us down!” the mare hollered, almost breathless. “They’re shutting us down! Princess, save us!”

“Who’s shutting what down?” Twilight demanded while she rose into a standing position.

“The directors! Miss Blintz is gone! She left and took her organisation team with her! Now the directors are shutting us down! The bake-off has been cancelled! They’re gonna pull financing! Nopony will be paid!”

Gasps could be heard in the crowd.

“Do something!” Clutching her front hooves together, the pegasus mare cast a pleading stare upon Twilight. “Please, Princess, do something! It can’t end this way! This is the last one!”

“I apologise for the unexpected interruption of our friendship lesson.” Twilight spread her wings and her horn ignited with a fierce glow. “If you will excuse me, I have to go and do some princessing. I really am sorry for cutting this short. Remember, kids… be good… and make friends!”

Then, with a crackle and a flash of magenta light, Twilight departed for the command center.

Twilight exploded into existence amongst a panicked herd of equines. There was outright hysteria going on—screaming, shouting, and sobbing. What little that Twilight could make out was about not getting paid. Her sudden appearance did nothing to help matters and many of the ponies fell to the ground in supplication. Papers swirled in the air like autumn leaves and folders were scattered all over the floor, their contents spilling out.

“Where?” Twilight’s voice was a thunderclap that caused the structure around her to tremble, as if it too was also afraid of the angered alicorn.

“Follow me,” a brave mare said and she gestured with her foreleg.

After folding her wings against her sides, Twilight allowed herself to be led down a hall with opulent wainscotting and brass trim. Frightened, hysterical ponies scurried out of her way and a clear path opened up as if by magic. Panicked ponies prostrated, pleaing prone. She didn’t have time to comfort them, to explain to them that she was here to save them. For now, they had a role to play, with them as supplicants, and her as the princess.

The hallway terminated in a pair of double doors, which did not budge when Twilight tried to open them. This was the doors’ mistake, being locked when an angry princess approached. She didn’t bother unlocking them, no, with a gentle telekinetic tap, she blasted the doors right off of their hinges and then stormed inside to the meeting beyond.

Stepping over the felled doors, Twilight entered into the rather generic-but-opulent meeting room for executive types. A massive ornate table ran the length of the room, with plush, overstuffed chairs along each side. Making a split-second decision, Twilight chose the table, and with a single flap of her wings, lept up atop it. The doors, compelled by some unseen force, got up and put themselves back upon their hinges and with a click, locked themselves.

There would be no escaping here…

“This is a private meeting—”

“Yes,” Twilight said, interrupting. “A private meeting. With me. Now tell me, what is going on. Why are you doing what you are doing?”

“We owe you no explanation,” the one who had mentioned this was a private meeting replied. There was a dreadful tremour in his voice, a hint of the terror within.

“That’s where you are wrong.” Twilight thumped her hoof against the table and sent ripples through the many water glasses. “I might not be Princess Celestia, or Princess Luna, but I am your princess. Refuse to answer me at your own peril.”

“The rule of royalty is not what it once was. We owe you nothing.”

In spite of herself, Twilight chuckled, rolled her eyes, and replied, “Fine. The hard way.”

Swivelling her head about, she selected a pony at random, and cast a spell of Compelling Truth. For a second, the stallion glowed, illuminated by magic, and there was a gasp from the others. Nothing happened, not right away, but Twilight was a patient pony. Tapping one hoof upon the table, she waited.

Then, the stallion blurted out, “I pay rent colts to spank me and I tell them about how much I hate the missus at home.” Startled, he covered his mouth with his hoof and there were alarmed gasps around the table.

A battle took place as the stallion struggled to contain himself, but more came out: “I write my rent colt visits off as a business expense and I cheat on my taxes!”

“Fascinating,” Twilight remarked with perfect deadpan delivery. “Anything else you wish to tell me?”

“Yes!” the stallion nodded, while he had clearly tried to say, “No.” His face contorted in agony and though he kept trying to cram his hooves into his mouth, they kept pulling away. “I recently contracted genital warts! I think I might have given them to the missus. I really hate her, but her father is rich and all I have is because of him. And her! And oh, how I hate them both!”

When she relaxed her magic to end the spell, the traumatised executive began sobbing.

“Now,” she began again, “who wants to tell me what is going on?”

“We’re cutting our losses,” a nervous mare replied. “Bourgogne Blintz cancelled all contracts and departed. With the contracts undone, we’re no longer under any obligation to continue financing.”

“But it is more than just that,” a stallion said when the mare had finished speaking. “We’ve sunk assets into this bake-off. The ovens, the pots, the pans, the utensils, this is all advertising, really, for our products. With the contracts gone, now is the time to recover our assets, so we can sell them as ‘lightly used.’ Any further wear and tear is a detriment to our bottom lines. Please, show some understanding. We’re the victims here.”

One of Twilight’s eyebrows arched in a manner truly Applejackian.

“Bourgogne Blintz stiffed all of us,” another said, clearly seizing upon this opportunity for sympathy. “She even cancelled the payroll services and no doubt, some lawyer will come to us seeking payment. This isn’t fair to us.”

“Yeah!” A hopeful looking mare nodded. “It’s not fair that she skipped town and we’re getting stuck with the bill.”

“This isn’t over.” Twilight’s voice was icy with weird calm. “I’m not letting you end this for the sake of your bottom line. I will reimburse you for everything—”

“You assume that we’ll sell to you. We have a right to choose our buyer!” One stallion made a bold stance. “We don’t owe you anything. We’re not obligated to surrender our goods to you. It’s about time that somepony stood up to the tyranny of the princesses. I almost went bankrupt when Princess Celestia ‘put her hoof down’ against Mariner and his ilk.”

“Yeah,” another said, “I’d rather have buyers compete and see who will give me the best offer. No offense… but the Crown barely pays fair market value.”

“There is the sentimental value to think of,” a mare interjected. “These goods were used in the last bake-off of its kind. Collectors will pay a premium to have them. We’ll get far better prices at auction than we will from the Crown.”

“Sounds to me like you’ll be getting a significant amount of money.” Twilight glanced around, meeting what few eyes stared directly at her. She watched them squirm, realising their own admission and how it could be used against them. “Why not let the bake-off finish? Or do you want to cash in on victimhood so you can make out like bandits from what is sure to be scandal and outrage?”

“I refuse to be bought out.” One stallion crossed his forelegs over his barrel and leaned back in his chair. “Equestria needs to progress beyond the antiquated trappings of royalty. Businesses and corporations cannot be bossed around like lowly peasants. We are the real wealth of Equestria, and it is about time that the Crown recognises who the real power is.”

Hearing this caused Twilight to cluck her tongue, and she shook her head from side to side. When most of the rest of the gathered ponies began to nod in agreement, Twilight pitied them, but was also furious with them. So, it seemed, they were going to force her hoof. That was fine. She was a big girl and she could take a bit of roughing up. She felt no need to remind them that she, a princess, had defeated Tirek—an act that allowed civilisation to continue—which allowed them to have customers and consumers. Having the world end or to have civilisation collapse would be a real downer on the ol’ bottom line.

Twilight realised that she was going to have to make a terrible choice.

Author's Note

:trollestia: - Twilight, it's a trap!

Chapter 22

“This is a matter of negotiation,” Twilight said in a booming, commanding voice. “I’ll do everything in my power to make this fair, if you’ll allow me. In fact, I’m willing to give you one-hundred percent of brand new market value. I’m confident that my offer is a good deal.” She glanced around to gauge their reactions and her gaze fell upon an earth pony who had a fierce glare.

“My name is Jolt Sparkheim, of the Sparkheim Industrial Consumer Goods Consortium. We manufacture the ovens and much of the electrical appliances to be found here. I can tell you right up front, my answer is a firm and resounding ‘no.’ We’ve also supplied the cameras, the film, much of the audio equipment, and in short, we’re primarily responsible for making this possible. I will not have my rights intruded upon. Now, respect my decision… and go.”

Twilight waited, but it seemed that the others didn’t have much to say. She wondered if they feared reprisal; anypony who cooperated with her might have trouble doing business with the Sparkheim Industrial Consumer Goods Consortium in the future. Or they could be raked over the coals by their shareholders. Twilight was a firm believer that the stock market was a dreadful mistake, and she longed to abolish it—if only she was allowed to do so. Compound interest was a force that might one day destroy all of Equestria.

“For too long, Princess Celestia has been smashing any successful business that has grown too large. My own family lives in fear of what she might do to us. We’re a family business and the inevitable attack that is coming is an attack on family. My family.” Jolt pressed his front hooves together just below his chin and took a deep breath. “Princess Celestia’s active efforts to ‘bust all trusts’ has certainly busted our trust in her. I have seen whole families gutted and left destitute because of her efforts. Whole livelihoods destroyed. We have rights! We’re the movers and shakers that provide the wealth that makes Equestria what it is.”

Extending her wing, Twilight pointed at Jolt with her primaries. “Very well, let’s talk about rights, shall we? You’ve convinced me to come around to your way of thinking. Perhaps a mistake has been made. So let’s have a conversation about rights.” Glancing about, Twilight was forced to hide a truly wicked grin when she saw the light of hope flare to life in the eyes staring up at her.

“You… a princess talking about rights. Do these even matter to you? We, your subjects, we only have the rights you see fit to give us and these rights are subject to change without notice, at a whim. It’s intolerable.” A mare with her forelegs folded over her barrel stared up at Twilight with nothing but raw contempt.

“Your rights end when you begin hurting others.” Twilight’s words held a remarkable calm and her expression was that of a patient schoolmarm. “To that end, let’s talk about the rights of workers. If I were to conduct a thorough investigation of your companies right now, how many violations would I find? How many health and safety violations would I uncover? Or better yet, how about I turn my mother loose and let her investigate? I think we all know what she did to Equestria’s bureaucracy. So much corruption uncovered. What might she find during an investigation of your business practices?”

Nopony, not even Jolt, would meet her eye now. Each of them looked away, staring off in different directions. Twilight fought to control her anger, because somehow, this response was worse than being stared at with contempt. This was practically an admission of guilt—at least by her own estimation. This was an acknowledgement that things weren’t on the level and they were fully aware of the violations. Not a single one of them could look her in the eye.

“So… who wants to cooperate… I’ll give you fifty percent of market value… new.”

When there were no takers, Twilight let out an audible sigh. “Fine. Let’s keep talking about rights, shall we? Consumer and customer rights. Can any one of you look me in the eye and tell me that the company that you represent is fully honest and transparent in their dealings? Come on… surely somepony works for a company that seeks the betterment of Equestria.” She waited, allowing the moment to stretch into something almost agonising. “No? Really? Nopony? So let me get this straight, you’re demanding your rights—and that’s fine, I respect that, I really do—but all of you seem aware that you’re complicit in violating the rights of others. Shall I have Seville run a front page story encouraging the public at large to come to me for a face-to-face meeting so they can tell me how they’ve had their rights violated?”

Finally looking Twilight in the eye, Jolt spat out the words, “Fuck you, cunt.”

“So… your rights are important, but the rights of your workers? Not so much. Your rights are paramount… but the rights of consumers and customers? Not worth your time, apparently. Don’t think this won’t go unanswered. I will give you twenty-five percent of used market value”—she pointed at Jolt once more with her extended primaries—“except for you. One percent of used market value and as an extra added bonus, I’m going to be the one dismantling your company now that I’m in charge of domestic policy. It will be learning a experience, I’m sure. I’m not going to just rip your company apart, Mister Sparkheim… no, I am going to let the legal system tear you to shreds after I empower your employees, your consumers, and your customers. I will see every shady dealing uncovered and every slimy act accounted for. I will have every dirty dealing ferreted out. I want to let the little ponies know that they have rights and that I want to protect them. I can think of no better way to send that message.”

“This did not go as planned,” a mare said in a harsh whisper to Jolt Sparkheim, who sat beside her. “You promised—”

“Shut up!”

Intrigued, Twilight wondered what had been promised, but did not press the issue. She began to walk the length of the table, looking down and studying different faces as she passed. After the length of the table had been walked, she turned around and began to go the other direction.

“Princess Celestia stays very busy with the war and the world at large,” she said, sharing her thoughts aloud. “I’ve been a bit bored lately. In my own little demesne, things run like a well-oiled machine. It doesn’t require much effort on my part. So… I guess you could say that I’m a mare in need of a hobby. I want all of you to go back to your companies, to your corporations, and I want you to tell them that I am coming… I’m on the warpath. Clean up your acts and run a responsible business. Businesses should not be run like corrupt fiefdoms. Give me a reason, and I burn you to the ground. Do good, do right, run your businesses with the Virtues, and the Crown will do business with you. Behave contrary to the Virtues… and I will make it my equinal mission to destroy you.”

“Uh”—one stallion raised his hoof, as if he was a colt attending school once more—“what are the Virtues?”

“I’m glad you asked,” Twilight replied, while smiling a broad, friendly smile in his direction. “Laughter, Loyalty, Honesty, Generousity, Kindness, and Magic. Keep your employees and your customers happy. Be attentive to their needs and you will have their devotion in return. Be honest and forthwith in your dealings. Be generous… it won’t kill you to help an imperiled bake-off. Be nice… see, if you had been nice to me, you’d’ve all left here with one-hundred percent new market value for your goods. That’d’ve been magical, wouldn’t you agree?”

“So you’re proposing that we sacrifice our bottom lines for goodwill?” the stallion asked.

“Yes!” Twilight offered up an enthusiastic nod with her exuberant response.

“And what would be the tangible market value that we’d get in return for that? I mean, I’m going to have to come up with a proposal for the board. They’re going to want facts and figures, not vague promises. I need something to work with.”

“Tangible market value, you ask.” Twilight’s body went still, but her eyes swept over the room. She drew in a deep breath, one eyebrow arched, and she replied, “What is the tangible market value of your continued existence? This is a market like any other. If I burn down enough businesses, I’m pretty sure the free market will come up with a solution—the burn proof business that operates with altruism and respects the Virtues. It will be a very favourable market for them too, because disreputable businesses will be getting shook down at every turn.”

“That… uh…” The stallion shifted in his seat. “That represents a complicated variable, but I think I can work something out.”

“Smart.” Taking a cue from Prince Gosling, Twilight feathergunned the clever stallion and clucked her tongue. “All of you are dismissed. Free to go. Go and tell your boards and your executives that there is a new princess in town. See ya!”

The sound booth had been abandoned, with the headset left to rest upon the machine covered in many switches and blinky lights. Twilight—her blood still singing in her ears—realised that she stood upon the precipice of the moment that would forever define her princesshood. She had just started a fight—a really big fight—but she still had little ponies to look after.

They needed reassurance.

Reaching out with her mind, Twilight cast her special conjure pony spell, and then she was no longer alone in the sound booth. Seville was fine, but Bundt was slow to recover. Twilight plopped Bundt down into a chair, smiled at Seville, and reminded herself that everything was going to be fine. She had her friends with her.

“Miss Buttercream, I’m putting you in charge. You told me that you hired a lot of the staff. Can you run this operation?” Twilight waited for her assistant to recover herself.

Bundt squirmed in her chair, rubbed her stomach, and let out a tiny squeak.

“Sugar Sparkle, have you been a naughty filly?” Seville asked.

Grinning, Twilight did not respond.

“It is true… I brought in a lot of ponies from the biz. Camera operators and boom operators. Ponies that know how to put on a production. They wanted some decent work for a change of pace.”

“But can you run the show? Do they trust you? Can the show go on?” Twilight’s ears pricked in anticipation of an answer. “It’s okay to tell me no, Miss Buttercream. It won’t impact your job. I won’t push you into doing something you’re incapable of doing.”

“Honest?” Bundt’s eyes glimmered with concern.

“You’re with decent ponies, remember?”

“I am.” A change settled over Bundt’s face and her ears rose in a slow, cautious manner. “I don’t know if I can run the show, but I’m willing to try. I’m more of an actress, in the show sense. But these ponies, I’ve worked with some of them for a very long time. We know how to run a show. We can make it happen, I think.”

“Even if we fail and this blows up in our faces, you’re still my assistant,” Twilight said to Bundt, offering whatever reassurance she could. “We’ll pick up the pieces together. I think you’ll find that I have a different way of doing things. I am asking a lot of you though, to be fair. I apologise for the sudden application of intense pressure.”

“Boss, I’ll find a way.”

“Good.” Twilight turned to Seville. “I need you to do that thing you do with Gosling during the broadcasts.”

“That thing I do—”

“Yes, that thing you do.” Twilight looked into Seville’s eyes, a risky move. “Restore faith and trust. Seville, you’ve become a voice of truth and reassurance. You’re Equestria’s pioneer for radio journalism. So I need you to sit down in this sound booth and do that thing you do.”

“But that thing I do works because Goose is with me. He’s the fall pony and I’m the straight guy. I hold him accountable for everything he says in front of the microphone and the listeners eat that up because they like hearing a royal being taken to task by a commoner. They think the heckling is hilarious.”

This gave Twilight pause, but she knew the show had to go on. “Seville Orange… your best friend saved you. I know that you and Gosling are close. Besties. Brothers, even. Luna has called you brothers many times. Gosling’s foals call you their uncle. This… this is a crisis, and I need for you to step up and be your own pony. You need to come out of Gosling’s shadow.”

Some of the colour drained from Seville’s face, and he looked more than a little sweaty. “I’m just an earth pony, Twilight. I owe him everything. Everything I am and everything I’ve done is because he stepped in and saved me. Goose… he’s… carried me.” There was a hard gulp and then he added, “I couldn’t’ve made it to where I am without him, I don’t think. He’s carried me up to the clouds with him.”

“Seville…” Twilight reached out with her wings, wrapped them around his neck, and pulled him closer, until she stood neck to neck with him. “I was once that way with Celestia. Perhaps I still am. One day, she did something terrible to me. She sent me to Ponyville. Alone. I didn’t have her shadow to retreat to and feel safe. I didn’t have her reassurance. I came pretty close to convincing myself that I couldn’t function without her.”

Mindful that Bundt was watching and listening, Twilight allowed her cheek to brush up against Seville’s neck. “This is your Ponyville, Seville, and Gosling is your Celestia. These ponies need you. I need you. I’m pretty sure that Bundt needs you. I need you to get on the air and I need you to put an end to the panic. I need everypony to know that the show must go on, that everypony is going to be paid, and that nothing has changed. Everything will continue as planned. Can you do that?”

“Yeah… for you, I can do that. I think.”

“Good.” Unable to stop herself, Twilight chuckled and remembered the meeting with Seville’s parents. “We’re good at panicked reactions. When you introduced me and Pinkie to your mother and she flipped her lid at the idea of you dating a princess, you smoothed everything over by telling your mom that we were engaged. And just like that, we were engaged. We never got around to sorting that little detail out. There was never even a formal declaration. So, let’s just play this by ear and whatever will happen will happen.”

“I still can’t believe I said that… or that you went along with it.” Seville shuffled a bit and then his weight came to rest against Twilight.

“It made me happy to hear you say it,” Twilight confessed as she pulled away.

Sighing, Twilight sat down in a chair beside Bundt, slipped the headset over her ears, and then adjusted the microphone in front of her muzzle. A few switches were flipped, the vacuum tubes in the equipment radiated a rosy, cheerful glow, and there was a faint hum as everything powered up.

“Hello, my little ponies,” Twilight said into the microphone. “This is your princess speaking. You might have heard that the bake-off was cancelled, but this isn’t true. Bourgogne Blintz just tried to do as much damage as she could going out the door. Everything will continue as planned. Everypony will be paid, as promised. As your princess, I want you to know that I care about all of you and I want you to be happy. Please, enjoy the bake-off. Make the most of it. In a moment, Seville Orange, the trusted voice of truth and integrity will be signing on and perhaps, if I can manage it, the Element of Honesty might be joining him as well. Please, continue to have a good time and enjoy your day. This is your princess, signing off.”

With a flick of magic, Twilight flipped the switch.

“It feels good to be working with decent ponies,” Bundt remarked. “I’m gonna go save a bake-off if it’s the last thing I do.”

“I’ll do what needs to be done, but it better get me kisses.” Seville’s eyes darted around, no doubt to gain an understanding of the many switches, dials, and control knobs.

“And I’ll be out on the floor, doing what I can,” Twilight added. “We’ve got this!”

Author's Note

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, slouches towards Canterlot to be born?

Twilight has endeared herself to the corporate types. She just wants to be friends.

Chapter 23

Organisation had saved the day. In the sound booth, Seville Orange worked to reassure everypony. Bundt Buttercream brought calm and some sense of order to the command center. The promise of being paid had done much to assuage the fears of the gathered great many. Already, the celebrity chefs had stopped by, and, when informed that a paycheck was coming, they had returned to patrol the floor—a major moment of relief, the sort where one could take a deep breath and have one’s various sphincters unclench.

Twilight felt pretty good about herself, but was still angry: she still spoiled for a fight. The blood had only just begun to sing in her ears and her heart still hammered against the anvil of her ribs. It had been a while since the last big fight and Twilight thought about her ennui—her depression. Raining down death from above should not be a cure for depression, yet here she was, revelling in her own victory while lamenting that it wasn’t much of a fight at all.

There was a problem, one that she wasn’t fully prepared to admit that she had.

Being of a clever mind, Twilight understood there had to be a good reason why Celestia hadn’t made much headway on this issue and she was looking forward to gaining an understanding of why. She refused to believe it was because her mentor was incapable; no, clearly there were factors involved that Celestia kept to herself. Twilight, being the sort of pony she was, was almost giddy with the prospect of learning something new and exciting.

“Majesty?”

Her thoughts interrupted, Twilight turned to face the pegasus trying to get her attention.

“I am Legal Dispatcher Booker Worthwood and I’m here to represent the legal interests of the collective whose assets you’ve acquired.” His ears pinned back, submissive, and he wore a well-practiced expression of utter passivity.

These were new words to Twilight and she looked the passive pegasus in the eye. “Legal Dispatcher? Are you a lawyer?”

“No.” The pegasus gave his head a gentle wag. “But I am a bit more than a notary public. Something in the middle. A legal clerk with considerable powers. My position as a dispatcher goes back to the earliest days of the Pegasus Pony Tribe. We were the messengers of war, the negotiators of peace, and the brokers of treaties. When Equestria was founded, we pegasus ponies chose to keep this position of mediation and we acted as the go-betweens for the unicorns and the earth ponies.”

“Fascinating.” Twilight found herself quite curious. “This is the first time I’ve ever heard of this. Wait a tick… Worthwood… Worthwood… the famous earth pony family Worthwood? Tree farmers and maple syrup. One of the big families of Vanhoover.”

“Princess Celestia recently took on our logging interests, our furniture factories, and our food services division.” Booker’s ears stood up and there was a bright twinkle in his eye.

Just as Twilight was about to say something in defense of her mentor, Booker continued, “It was the greatest day of my life. I’d really like to have the chance to thank her face to face, but I stay very busy.”

All of Twilight’s would-be words escaped in a confused huff.

Perhaps because of the confused expression that Twilight now wore, the pegasus laughed, a gentle, inoffensive sound, a neutral laugh of peculiar quality. Twilight, being Twilight, recovered herself rapidly and put on her best, most confident, most self-assured smile. Then, she too laughed a bit, because, why not? Booker seemed friendly enough and his professional demeanour was quite pleasant.

“You’ll have to forgive me, Mister Worthwood, but I’ve only ever heard negatives about Princess Celestia’s efforts to take on businesses that grow large enough to be threatening. To be quite honest, I just got done hearing about how somepony was going to be down and out… destitute. I’ve only ever heard negative sentiment.”

One of Booker’s wings extended and he began rubbing his chin while giving Twilight a thoughtful look. “Yes, I would imagine that most would have nothing positive to say. My family paid for my extensive education and when I completed school, I was contractually obligated to work for them… as many in the family are. My debt was leveraged against me and I became an indentured bondspony. I was an asset, little more, and I was ruthlessly exploited. There wasn’t anything I could do about it until my debts were paid… but… my debt kept growing as the years went on. I was provided with a very nice apartment and office space and what have you. I had to pay the cost of rent and other services.”

Alarmed, Twilight could not help it, but her first thoughts were of Seville’s parents. The Orange family also operated a trust, a leftover, a holdout from Equestria’s feudalistic era. Seville’s parents were happy; they were well provided for and from her own estimation, were not exploited in any way. There was a mutually beneficial agreement between families—but it did not change the fact that the Oranges owned some of their kin, at least in a broad sense.

“When Princess Celestia tore apart my family’s interests, she dissolved my debts. I was set free. Of course, I was also homeless and didn’t have a bit to my name, but for some reason, I couldn’t muster up any hard feelings about what she had done. So, here I am. Working as a dispatcher for those slimeballs. I’m not keen on it, but it pays the bills.”

“So, I suppose I need to sign some stuff?” Twilight asked.

“Here’s the thing,” Booker replied. “You don’t have to sign. The Crown has a guarantee for its debts. Signing your name to the contracts is optional. If you do, it holds you responsible, rather than the Crown. It is a matter of entity. You are both Princess Twilight Sparkle and Twilight Sparkle, two distinct legal entities. But if you sign these papers at all, with either signature, you seperate yourself from the Crown as a guaranteer. It would mean that you could be held accountable in a court of law should something go awry. I was asked to pressure you into signing… a number of parties believed you to be naive enough and they had hopes of causing a disturbance, no doubt.”

“I see.” Twilight too, began to rub her chin with her wing. “Why tell me this?”

“Because”—there was a long, thoughtful pause—“I am sick of working with scumbags.”

“Uh-huh.” Nodding her head, Twilight added, “You mentioned that dispatchers acted as messengers of war.”

“Mine was once a noble profession.” Booker sounded miserable, wistful, and hopeful all at the same time.

“Well, as it just so happens, I am transitioning into the business of war.” Twilight’s head ceased nodding and she looked Booker right in the eye. “I’ll be frank. Domestic policy is about to take it right in the keister. I find myself in need of a messenger… of war. A herald of my inevitable coming and the destruction I shall leave in my wake.”

“Oh… delightful.”

“Mister Worthwood, how would you feel about working with decent ponies?”

A guarded expression crept over Booker’s face and he took a step backwards. “Why me? Why ask me? We just met.”

“You didn’t have to tell me not to sign those papers. I am a bit naive. I had no idea that I might get myself into trouble by signing. There’s a lot I still don’t know.” Twilight could feel the weight of the crown upon her head even though she wasn’t wearing it.

“As a princess, you have the right to command me to work for you. As a dispatcher, I could not refuse you. You wouldn’t have to pay me.”

“Why tell me this?” Twilight asked while she took on a more guarded stance.

“I no longer wish to be a caged bird,” Booker replied. “You are in a unique position to exploit me. In a very technical, very legal sense, I am unable to refuse you.”

“Oh. I see.” A heaving sigh escaped from the confines of Twilight’s barrel. “That presents a problem, because I need employees who can tell me when I’m wrong, or if I am making a mistake, or tell me ‘no’ if the situation demands it.” For some reason, Twilight thought of Raven. Brave little Raven did more than tell Celestia ‘no.’ Shrugging, she continued, “I am about to take on a tremendous amount of responsibility. I have need of trusted advisors… and a dispatcher. I rather like the idea of having a messenger of war.”

“Say if I was to work for you,” Booker said to Twilight while his wings made agitated fidgets. “Would it be contract work?”

“Oh no, I’d need you all day, every day. I’d hire you as a retainer. You’d work exclusively for me and nopony else. You’d get a salary. I hesitate to mention this, but a different set of labour laws apply to positions beneath the Crown. Technically, you’d always be on the clock and during times of crisis, the work day has no standardised set of hours. It is a different sort of work environment. But the pay is good.”

“Could I relocate?”

“Do you want to relocate?”

“Goodness, yes. Las Pegasus is killing me. I have to keep taking out loans just to make rent. I have a wife and son… and a daughter is on the way. I don’t want them here, but Las Pegasus was where I was able to find work. I hear Ponyville is nice.”

“I’ll pay for your relocation—and that doesn’t mean you’re indebted to me, either.” Twilight’s brows furrowed. “I’ll also pay off any outstanding loans you might have. This is for my own interests. I don’t want outside parties having sway over you while you’re in my employ.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Please, say yes. But only if you can also tell me no. Say yes now so you can tell me no later. Please, come work with decent ponies. I just hired a porn star.”

Booker’s eyebrow raised.

“It’s a long story,” Twilight offered in explanation. “But she needed a change of pace too. Now she works for decent ponies.”

“Fair enough.”

“Well?”

“I’ll do it. Once we’re finished sorting out paperwork and I return said paperwork to my clients, I’m available.”

“Good, I’ll make arrangements for you to move to Ponyville right away. Once I’m home, I plan to get started. Time to shake down some scumbags.” Twilight grinned and saw it reflected in the face of her brand-new friend. “Well, let’s go sort out this paperwork and then I’ll introduce you to my newly hired assistant, Miss Buttercream.”

Payroll was now secured, guaranteed by the Crown, and a new payroll service provider had been retained. A new contract for continued use of the Moondust as a venue was hammered out; as it turned out, The Moondust Resort & Casino was eager to re-establish the contracts for the bake-off and did so without requesting a fee, which Twilight felt was exceptionally, extraordinarily nice of them. They even covered the cost of the legal filing. With the help of Booker Worthwood, insurance had been re-established and everypony involved with the event, from bakers to boom operators were now protected in the event of a mishap.

The transition was far less painful than Twilight thought it would be, but then again, Booker had done so much to smooth everything out. Already, before the ink had even dried, he had proven his worth and Twilight knew—she knew that she had lucked out. This was turning out to be a fortunate trip.

Even the closing ceremony with Sapphire Shores had been retained!

Clutching a cup of coffee in her fetlock—and doing so without thinking about it or otherwise realising that she wasn’t using magic—Twilight looked around at the eager, hopeful faces of those in the command center. Jobs—had been saved. The day—had been saved. The bake-off—had been saved. How many lives had just been impacted? How many ponies would be able to pay rent for yet another month? All in all, she felt pretty good about herself. Yes, she had done some mighty fine princessing.

“Applewood Studios just sent a telegram,” a breathless earth pony said as he stumbled through the door. “They’re keeping the old terms! Nothing changes. We’re good to go! Film distribution rights are a-go! The Cinematography Union approves!”

A cheer rose from the mouths of many and Twilight found herself caught up in the moment. Leaning back in her chair, she allowed herself to feel good about this. She deserved it. And yet… the bake-off was not truly saved. This was the last one. The last great production. Having everything fall apart and then having to put it all back together gave Twilight a rare glimpse into the inner-workings of such an event. It was such a momentous undertaking… a truly colossal job. The fact that it took place at all was something of a miracle, at least by her own estimation.

It was earth pony work-ethic put into practice. Sure, there were unicorns and pegasus ponies here—but, like the earth ponies, they worked hard. Everypony gave it their one-hundred and ten percent. Having experienced the event from behind the scenes gave Twilight a new appreciation—and a new sense of sadness that it was ending.

After taking a sip of her coffee, Twilight addressed her two new assistants: “I couldn’t have done this without you. I understand that this is a rough start to a new job… but to be honest… this is the job. We’re going to go from one crisis to another.”

“I think we can handle that,” Bundt replied while her front hooves came to rest upon the rounded swell of her stomach.

“I don’t feel like I need a shower to wash away the slime.” Booker looked up from the paperwork spread out before him. “I need to fly these to city records. The permits have to be filed. We’re technically covered, but it becomes ironclad once everything is filed with the city. I also have to get everything squared away with the fire department still.”

“Yeah, Mister Worthwood, stay on top of that. The Fire Marshall technically needs to come and reinspect because the venue has changed ownership. We’re supposed to be covered, but if there is a fire, this might be a headache later. Somepony might try to say the transition was negligent.”

“I’m on it, Mrs. Sandstone. No slacking here.”

“You got this.”

“I got this.”

Twilight found herself in agreement. “We’ve got this together!”

Author's Note

It is almost as if Twilight is preparing for something.

Chapter 24

Princessing tended to make a pony hungry and Twilight Sparkle eyeballed the lunch menu. The iceberg salad promised a titanic dining experience that wouldn’t sink one’s figure, but Twilight wasn’t in the mood to watch her figure: Pinkie and Seville could be trusted to do that. There was the something to taco ‘bout salad, with queso if you say so, otherwise, it was nacho cheese. The penne for your thoughts was tempting, and the pickle platter promised to be a big dill. There were low carb options, advertised as the path of yeast resistance. Being a unicorn, she could never abide by a low carb diet; as Luna had once told her, from crust thou art, and unto crust thou shalt return; carbohydrates are good for you, and give you calories to burn. The mackin’ cheese promised a smooth delivery, a creamy mouth feel, and no regrets the next day. Twilight rolled her eyes. That much cheese in one meal was sure to cause regrets.

Something was off with this menu, but Twilight was too distracted to determine what it was.

So distracted was Twilight that she did not notice Pinkie’s forelegs slipping around her until it was too late, and then, of course, it was too late. When she turned left to face Pinkie Pie their muzzles bumped together. Either by accident or design, Pinkie took this as an invitation, and Twilight found that she was quite powerless to resist. Pinkie did that thing she did with her lips and Twilight, now quite helpless, had the menu fall from her magical grasp. Just as suddenly as it had started, Pinkie pulled away with a wet slurp and gasping, Twilight tried to recover.

“Mmm, that fineapple upside down cake has my mouth watering,” Applejack remarked.

“What was that for?” Twilight managed to say after several almost-pants.

“Mmm… because you did good.” Pinkie Pie’s bright blue eyes glittered. “I did good and then I did not so good. Got me a blue chip and then a red chip. At least I got a chip, otherwise, I’d’ve been disqualified. But being disqualified doesn’t matter so much to me because thanks to you, I still have a bake-off to compete in. It almost ended, Twilight, and everypony was scared. But you… you saved us.”

Lightheaded, Twilight was certain that the stars orbiting around her head were real.

“Yeah.” Applejack said from behind her menu. “Nopony quite knew what to do, but Pinkie kept baking so everypony around her just sorta followed her lead and I reckon that spread a good distance, because everypony stuck around. And then you came on the public announcement system and then Seville did too and everything was okay.”

“Speaking of Seville, here he comes. He looks frazzled.” Pinkie Pie patted the spot beside her on the plush bench upon which she sat. “Come and sit with me, Mister Orange-y Warange-y.”

“Ladies.” Seville took off his hat, placed it on the edge of the table, and sat down. “Jackie. Pinks. Dollface.”

Lowering her menu, Applejack gave Seville a stern look. “How come you never call me ‘Dollface?’ Why is that?” Perhaps because she saw Seville’s hat, she took off her own and placed it atop his. “You’ve been flirty with just about every mare in our little circle, except for me, and I’m kinda jealous.”

“Jackie, you squirted out two mooks from out your rodeo hole… I’m stayin’ a country mile away from whatever you got to offer.”

Stunned, Twilight sat there, blinking, holding her breath, unsure of how to respond. When both Applejack and Seville started laughing, it was even worse somehow; try as she might, she could not find the humour in what had been said and her eyes darted back and forth between her two friends. Even Pinkie was giggle-snorting while Twilight sat in stunned silence.

“Flirting?” Twilight shook her head. “I never noticed any flirting.”

“Twi, there’s flirting, and then there is flirting.” Applejack leaned over the table and her voice dropped down low. “Rarity flirts with everypony. Including you, but you probably never noticed. It’s flattery, Twi. Feel good stuff. Bein’ social. Seville is a gentlepony and he’s a bit like Rarity in that he’s flattering. He flirts, but he doesn’t flirt.”

In a rare moment of vulnerability, Twilight replied, “I don’t get it.”

Reaching up, Applejack wiped her eyes now that the laughter had left her, she took a deep breath, and after failing to come up with a meaningful response, she shrugged and said, “I don’t know of a better way to explain it. But I can see you’re a bit spooked about this, Twi.”

Giving herself a shake, Twilight tried to unruffle her feathers.

“Noir nerd here, he tries to act like his heroes,” Applejack said to Twilight, her voice still low.

“Hey, what’s the big idea—”

“Twilight, everything is fine. I was just giving Seville some guff, that’s all. And he gave me some back.”

“Why I oughta—”

“You oughta what?” Applejack demanded while giving Seville Orange her best Applejackian eyebrow.

Again, Twilight’s friends laughed and this time, she managed a nervous chuckle.

“Seville, this is your fault—”

“My fault?” Seville tapped on his barrel with his hoof. “How’s this my fault?”

“Everything was fine, Seville, and we were the perfect circle of friends until you came along and complicated things.” Applejack squinted at Seville through one eye and she wore a fine smirk upon her muzzle. “You tried to make friends with all of us… to endear yourself to all of us. You’ve made an active effort to be a nice feller, and not at all like the shitheel that was my husband. He couldn’t stand my friends, and made no effort at all to make nice with them. In fact, he didn’t want me being friends with them no more, ‘cause he felt it was distractin’ me from what’s important.”

Suddenly, Twilight had a profound understanding; it was as if a lightbulb was turned on.

“Lightbulb,” Pinkie Pie muttered beneath her breath. “Why is it always a lightbulb? Why can’t it ever be romantic mood lighting like a candle?”

After a morning of pretty intense princessing, it felt good to be doing mostly nothing. Everything had returned to normal, whatever normal was. There had barely even been a fight—twasn’t a scuffle even—but Twilight’s inner alicorn was enjoying the afterglow. Okay, so she hadn’t battled some terrific evil that had just woke up cranky after a one-thousand year nap, but she had engaged a canny, wily foe that she felt was no less dangerous. Afterwards, she had a lovely lunch and had, perhaps, a better understanding of friendship.

Yes, it had been a morning of learning.

Seville was back to roaming the floor, doing his job as a reporter. No doubt, he’d have some amazing stories now that the bake-off had been saved. Bundt Buttercream took over her job once more as the announcer, and her sultry voice could now be heard on occasion. Booker Worthwood was sorting out the final details, making sure that everything was perfect, just perfect.

And yet, for all that she had accomplished this morning, Twilight felt unsettled. There was still the matter of the bake-off itself. At some point, she still had to deal with the Equestrian Baking League, because it was uncertain if they would recognise this as an official event after the kerfuffle. Their representative had packed up and left town with Bourgogne Blintz. It seemed like a trivial thing, at first, until one realised that the big winners here might not be recognised by the Equestrian Baking League—for the winners, this presented a tremendous problem.

Twilight was determined to fix it somehow.

Down below, Pinkie Pie was hard at work on a wedding cake. That was the contest she had chosen to enter out of the many different themes of the afternoon. It was a calculated gamble of sorts; a wedding cake was a long, involved process that took time, but was only worth one chip. During the time it took to make a wedding cake, Pinkie Pie could be doing two, maybe three quick, fast events, which would earn her some red or blue chips. But wedding cakes showed technical prowess and Twilight knew that Pinkie Pie was going for another gold chip.

In the other cubicles, Twilight could see cookies being made for the cookie theme. Cookies, she had been told, were a safe bet, but were limited, because cookies could only score a red or blue chip and nothing else. But a baker could score a fast and easy blue chip if they made a pretty batch of cookies, and a strong blue chip run was a good way to achieve the three-hundred points needed to gain special show recognition.

Cookies were also risky, because you might get no chip at all—and then your run would end. The same could be said for wedding cakes, however. Everything had some element of risk. A bad batch of cookies, a bit too dark, a bit overdone, or worse, burned, it was enough to make everything end in tragedy. But a failed wedding cake was no less dramatic, as far as ends go.

Twilight began to feel the tension.

Pinkie Pie made perfect cookies and Twilight began to wonder why Pinkie chose to do a wedding cake. Why, Pinkie’s Pinkie Sense warned her when cookies were in danger from burning—she had a sense for that. For whatever reason, Pinkie Pie had taken the riskier choice. Perhaps because they were in Las Pegasus, a city known for gambling. Or maybe Pinkie wanted to test herself so that she could find some measure of self-worth.

Down below, the pink pony mashed Fancy cognac and bananas together while making a face of intense concentration.

“I’ve never seen Pinkie this wound up and tense afore,” Applejack remarked. “Getting that gold chip lit a fire ‘neath her hindquarters. It’s like she knows that she has some inner greatness now and she’s determined to show the world. Getting that gold chip was great for her confidence. It feels good knowing I was a part of that. Together, the two of us discovered that Pinkie can run. Now look at her go. Just look at her.”

Distracted, Twilight nodded.

“You and Pinkie have a lot in common.”

This got Twilight’s attention. “We do?” Thinking of how that sounded, she added, “Well, of course we do. Ha… ha… heh. Just wondering, what do you think we have in common?”

“You’re both skittish and ya sell yourself short until your confidence is engaged. And then, look out. Pinkie has a real fear of failure. She takes it hard. You do too. Pinkie hides it by acting like a clown and not taking anything serious, and you, you don’t do much to hide your caution. Y’all are more alike than either of ya realise.”

“We both fear rejection,” Twilight said, confiding in her longtime companion.

“Pinkie’s been burned. It’s hurt her more than she’ll ever express in words.” Applejack took a deep breath and turning her head, she focused on Twilight. “And you… you had your crush. Which, because of the way you are, completely crippled you when it comes to love. Like I said, Pinkie hides it by acting like a clown, and you… you’re just you. You’re both dancing around this idea of commitment. Neither one of you realise that this is the sort of common ground that’s good and fertile for relationships. This shared weakness is what could be bringing you together.”

“It’s more complicated than that.” Twilight watched as Pinkie poured her cognac and banana mixture into the mixer.

“How so?” Applejack asked, and there was no ridicule or derision in her words.

“My sexuality,” Twilight replied in a barely audible squeak. “But it is more than that. It is defining everything.”

“Definition?” Reaching up, Applejack pushed her hat back from her eyes and then leaned in closer to Twilight. “Like… dictionary stuff? Twi… are you somehow being held back by dictionary stuff?”

“No… ha ha… uh… that’s silly. You’re a silly pony, Applejack.”

“Uh-huh.” The apple farmer offered up a hard nudge in the ribs. “You have to know what stuff is and how to categorise it afore you can engage in it. You’ve got to have the dictionary stuff sorted out before the dickin’ stuff can happen.”

“Pfft… that’s preposterous.” For some reason, Twilight was far too sweaty and she had the peculiar feeling that she might start hiccuping.

“Oh boy… here we go. Rodeo time. Friendship rodeo.” Reaching out, Applejack slipped her foreleg over Twilight’s withers and pulled her friend close. “Now to see if I can hold on as you come tearing out of the bull chute.”

In response, Twilight snorted.

“When you look down at that mare, what do you see?”

“One of my best friends—”

“Bull chute.”

Something about Applejack’s silly-serious demeanour left Twilight annoyed. Rather than fight it, she decided to let Applejack help. Maybe the wise mare could help. “That’s the thing, Applejack. I don’t know what I see. It’s like a puzzle, and I don’t know how to make the pieces fit. The pieces have to fit otherwise the puzzle can never be finished.”

“The pieces here bein’ yer princessly parts and pink pony parts fitting well together.”

A fierce, face-destroying blush set Twilight’s muzzle on fire and began to creep down her neck. “That’s part of it, but it is more than that. It’s more than my sexuality and getting confirmation of my various attraction factors.” Twilight almost felt like spewing up her lunch. “It’s how she and I and Seville fit together.”

“Wait… Twi… is this… is this about herds?” Applejack’s foreleg, wrapped around Twilight’s withers, went as rigid as iron.

Something dreadful tightened around Twilight’s lungs and she found that she could not get enough air to make a response. It wasn’t that Applejack was squeezing her; no, she could deal with that. Fiercely hot prickles traveled all over her body and she was forced to endure some of the worst hot flashes she had ever experienced. The only thing that made it bearable was that Applejack was holding her, though being near a warm body somehow made it worse.

“Oh shit.” Applejack kept her voice down. “Deep breaths, Twi. Deep breaths. I swear, I don’t—no, I can’t understand you. You can pick fights with eldritch abominations and whole armies of critters, but then you have moments like this one that leave you completely helpless.”

“It’s overwhelming. I can’t define it. I don’t understand the social interaction involved. It’s more complicated than normal relationships and I don’t want to make mistakes or let somepony down. There’s so much pressure. I’m still trying to figure out what I am now. My sexuality is too awkward to think about so I avoid thinking about it. I don’t know how everything fits in relation with everything else, and with three of us involved, the complication factors seem infinite.”

“And you want all of these things sorted out and defined before you can settle?”

“Yes.”

“Twi… I’m sorry… I’m real, real sorry… but life doesn’t work that way.”

“Well, why not? It should work that way. Things need to be empirical. It would make everything easier. I want things to be that way. It’s hard for me to function, otherwise.”

A sigh slipped from Applejack’s lips, followed by, “Well, let’s try to sort this out as much as we can. Twilight, what is your definition of a herd?”

“I don’t know,” Twilight, on the verge of tears, confessed. “There’s too many of them.”

Closing her eyes, Applejack raised her free hoof and rubbed her temple. The sturdy, stubborn apple farmer drew in a deep breath, then another, and then opened her eyes. “I’m not certain I understand. I might, but I don’t want to jump to conclusions. Give me some examples to work with. Help me see your perspective on this, Twi.”

“Celestia and Luna share a husband. And that should set the definition, the standard. Celestia and Luna both have intimate interactions with Gosling, but never at the same time. There are boundaries there. If everything conformed to this standard, it would be easier. But it’s more complicated than this.”

Again, Applejack took a deep breath.

“But then there is Tarnish and his family. Two couples choosing to live together. And that would be fine, but the water is further muddied because… because Tarnish is a daddy without intimate interactions. Alto is his son, but Octavia’s position… relation? Her status? It’s never been stated or defined. Or Vinyl for that matter. Are they friends? Wives? The whole thing is a mess. It’s a big scary mess. It’s like a tangled mane or tail and I want to attack it with a brush until everything is smooth again.”

Clinging to Twilight, Applejack waited for more to escape.

“And then there are herds were everypony is doing everypony. How do they fit together? How do the pieces fit? How is the relationship and the exchanges that take place defined? I haven’t even figured out my own sexuality and this… this is somehow bigger than that. Is it too much to ask to have some sense of coherent definition? Friendship can be boiled down to simple equations, but this presents far too many variables for my liking.”

“Twi… I have a confession.”

For the first time, Twilight lifted her head and looked Applejack right in the eye. “You do?”

“I do.” Another deep breath. “Twi, I’m in a herd.”

“What?” Stupefied, Twilight sat there, blinking. “With who?”

One eyebrow lifted over one green eye.

“With your brother? Ew!”

“Twilight… Celestia and Luna are sisters.”

“Ew… they are! Argh! Ugh! Now I can’t unthink it!” Disgusted for reasons she could not explain, Twilight suffered a full-body shudder of revulsion.

“After Big Mac got hitched to Sugar Belle and came home, we went down to the town hall and we did us some paperwork and signed a few forms and I quietly married Sugar Belle.”

Almost panting now, Twilight shook her head. “Why? Why? And why didn’t you tell me?”

“It wasn’t done for love or anything like that. It’s a matter of practicality. It was Sugar Belle’s idea, actually. It changed our tax situation for the better and allowed us some special legal loopholes as a corporate family. We’re a herd and it wasn’t done for love, just practical reasons.”

“Gah, that makes everything worse. That’s horrible.”

“So… Twilight… imagine how big a dictionary might be if all these little variations about herds were included.” Applejack’s eyebrow relaxed and came down from its high and lofty perch, but still maintained its haughty air.

“Really, Applejack… tax reasons?”

“Being established as a corporate family gives us considerable powers. We now have a favourable position at long last when dealing with contracts and guarantees and insurance and whatnot. We’re protected. Every apple on every tree is now protected as a corporate asset and should something ever happen outside of our control, we’ve got the insurance to handle the situation. That money is coming in one way or another. It feels mighty, mighty good to be secure, Twilight. Say whatever you’d like, but I sleep better at night.”

“Ugh.”

Twilight now had more on her mind than when she started this conversation and it felt as though nothing had been settled. Looking down at Pinkie, she thought about the kiss at lunch. Pinkie too, was uncertain of her sexual orientation, and Twilight knew this from the talks they had together. The only thing that was certain was that they both shared an attraction to Seville—along with a burning inquisitiveness for one another. Though she would never admit it aloud, Twilight enjoyed snuggle-humps, as awkward as they were.

“Twi…” Applejack’s voice was almost a whisper. “These things sort themselves out. That’s why I told you to get on with it. You can’t sort this out from the outside looking in. You gotta be in the middle of it all. I hope you can trust me when I say that. It’s like when we was off on our first adventure. You gotta let go. You hafta let go and let things happen. You… you probably have all the time in the world… shucks, I dunno. So maybe you’re not aware of how fast these seasons keep on passing. Seville and Pinkie… they don’t have all the time in the world, Twi. While you are busy trying to sort everything out and put everything into its proper place, they lose another of what few finite seasons they have.”

Twilight’s lips pressed into a tight, thin line.

“Those laugh lines around Pinkie’s eyes grow deeper every year. She has greys now. Seville, he’s a little younger… but he lives himself a dangerous life. Just like that, he could be snuffed out. Think about all of the bad things that’s happened to him. Any one of them mighta been fatal, had circumstances been a bit more cruel. They’re both waiting for you… meanwhile, you’re trying to re-write the dictionary so you can have your neat and tidy definitions. Is it worth it, Twi?”

Twilight’s initial response was anger; it wasn’t fair that life was passing her by while she was trying to make sense of things. But after the surge of anger, then came the anxiety over what she had lost. The panic was real and she could feel a piercing twinge of pain spike through her innards. It was hard to breathe now; she was sweaty, too hot, angry, anxious, and overwhelmed.

Even worse, Twilight knew that she had the power to turn back the clock. But at what terrible cost. She had the means to keep Pinkie and Seville young, the means to reset their lives on a whim. But such an act would have ripples… consequences… harmony, like a river flowing, could not be bound. It would find a new way, meander through new channels. To hold back the flow in one place meant flooding another.

Closing her eyes, Twilight remembered screaming.

Hold on! I'm a-comin'!

Applejack! What do I do?

Let go.

Are you crazy?

No I ain't. I promise you'll be safe.

That's not true!

Now listen here! What I'm sayin' to you is the honest truth! Let go, and you'll be safe!

When she opened her eyes, they were ink-shot. The past, present, and future all blurred together. Reality shifted like panes of coloured glass stacked atop one another. Applejack was old and young at the same time. A filly and a withered old mare with fierce eyebrows. An old mare made wise by reading the wisdom of the seasons, observing them as they passed.

Blinking, she tried to rein in the ink, and found that she could not.

Applejack would be the second-last to go, offering advice right up to the end. Twilight’s gaze fell downward at the pink mare below. Pinkie would be the last; she would see her best friends off, one by one, she would throw them a final party, and when her work was finally done, she would nod off one day. Spike would be the one to find her—he would think she was napping in her favourite chair yet again—but his frantic attempts to wake her would be for naught. He would be so distraught from her loss that he would sleep for almost a decade. It would be his first big sleep.

Twilight knew that her body—this body—would not survive Spike’s long slumber: she would pass whilst he hibernated. Oh, she would make a heroic effort to hang on, but she would fall short by just a few seasons. Why did she know this? Spike wasn’t here—he wasn’t present for her to look at. Reeling from what she had seen of Applejack and Pinkie Pie, Twilight struggled to regain her senses.

With a blink, everything was fine again. Her vision cleared; Pinkie Pie and Applejack were themselves once more. The scent of bananas and cognac were strong in Twilight’s nostrils—along with the tang of ink. Only one thing was certain at the moment, only one thing made sense.

Twilight had to let go.

Author's Note

There was no good place to cut the chapter. Sorry.

Chapter 25

It hurts to commit to things. Sumac’s words lingered in her mind. For countless years while she made her long walk forward, all that time spent separated from her friends, taking the long way home after venturing into the past, Sumac’s words echoed in her ears, in whatever form her ears happened to take. She had injured her eye while making a Pinkie Promise and he had said these words to her.

She couldn’t be afraid of pain, could she?

Pinkie Pie had certainly found her groove. She wiggled while she worked, humming to herself, and she appeared to be a happy pony. Something about her eyes… the way she moved… or maybe it was Pinkie’s happiness that made Twilight feel better. There was certainly something infectious about her smile—that she could smile while under so much pressure was a testament to Pinkie’s character.

The cakes, just out of the oven, went into the Sparkheim Cake Cooling Tower Mark IX. Twilight’s ears pricked when the powerful fans kicked on and the machine made a pleasant mechanical hum. A gleaming column of glass and steel, the cake cooling tower was the home version of the commercial grade product made for rapidly cooling cakes that had just come out of the oven. Time was money and time lost while a cake cooled represented a loss of productivity.

Appliances were the future, it seemed.

The smell was amazing; sweet, sugary treats perfumed the air, along with spicy, exotic scents. Savory smells could also be detected and from her lofty perch, Twilight could see a steaming quiche cooling on the counter. Could a hot pie or quiche also be cooled in a cake cooling tower? In silence, Twilight debated this issue; the cooling tower was specifically for cakes, as suggested by the name, but pies and other baked goods would fit.

A rather pudgy stallion pulled out a loaf of braided bread from his oven.

In every direction there were vibrant colours that caught the eye; pinks, oranges, yellows, reds of every shade, whites of every grade, vivid blues in various hues, as well as plenty of greens all demanding to be seen. A camera came rolling by, as cameras tended to do, and it came to a halt in front of Pinkie’s cubicle. The tiny railroad tracks that the camera sat upon fascinated Twilight and filled her head with all manner of ideas. Perhaps rails were the future, an improvement upon roads.

On the counter, there was a bowl of whipped frosting that Twilight could not determine the colour of. It appeared white, but if she blinked her eyes or tilted her head a certain way, there was a good deal of yellow hiding in plain sight. It was almost as if the frosting was magical, though it could just be a trick of the lights.

“Care to share on camera?” the camera operator asked. “We’re documenting the survivors. Many have fallen this day.”

“Were they distracted by ponies with cameras?” Pinkie Pie wore her best wry grin and there was a mischievous twinkle in her blue eyes while she asked her question.

This got a chuckle out of the camera operator.

“My name is Pinkie Pie and I like to think of myself as a baker. I’m also a part-time party planner, I teach cooking, so I guess I’m a teacher, and I work full time as the Element of Laughter. Sometimes, I go on adventures with my friends. Recently, I was appointed as the Senior Advisor of Earth Pony Affairs by Princess Celestia. Oh, I also work as a dance instructor whenever the opportunity presents itself.”

Twilight did a double-take. Senior Advisor of Earth Pony Affairs?

Was this why Pinkie was in Canterlot just before they left?

“Sounds like you stay busy,” the camera operator said to Pinkie Pie.

The Sparkheim Cake Cooling Tower Mark IX dinged (or perhaps the machine went ping) and Pinkie—excited by the sudden sound—pronked in place. Tail twitching, she sprung into action and with a few deft movements, she pulled her cakes from the cylindrical cake chiller. Six golden yellow cakes, now chilled, were set out upon the counter and Pinkie cast a critical eye upon them, looking for any flaws.

“I’m making my Absolutely Bananas wedding cake,” she said while peering at her cakes from every angle. “It’s kinda famous. Most wedding cakes are vanilla… and boooo-ring. A wedding is s’posed to be exciting. In my opinion, a wedding cake is no good unless there is a fight over the last slice. Not a real fight… a scuffle. Weeeell”—she stretched this word almost to its breaking point—“not a real scuffle. Uh, ponies should be motivated to get the last slice and nopony feels that way about a snorefest vanilla wedding cake. Who wants to eat that dry, flavourless brick?”

“Absolutely Bananas?”

“Yeah. The banana mash keeps the cake super-duper moist. How’s the bride supposed to get moist if the cake is dry? Put something that dry in one end and you suck all the moisture out of the other end. It’s science, ya know.” Pausing, Pinkie turned to look at the camera pony, who was chuckling. “Banana cakes are quite appealing, if you ask me.”

Up in her lofty perch, Twilight groaned while Applejack chuckled.

“Well, Miss Pie… it is Miss, correct?” He waited for Pinkie to nod before he continued, “What would you do to make the world better, if you could do something? As the newly appointed Senior Advisor of Earth Pony Affairs, it sounds as though you are in a position to do something. What do you believe would make the world better?”

“To start,” Pinkie Pie began while flipping her cake pans over, “I’d find a way to get more ponies laughing together, instead of at each other. That’s mean and it bothers me. If we can just find something that we can laugh about together, we’d have some common ground. We might be able to talk about why we found it funny. If we talked about why we found it funny, we might understand one another better. Laughter brings ponies together. It’s a shared experience that we all have in common. Well, except for ponies who never laugh. Uh…”

The camera operator’s ears drooped. “That’s uh… surprisingly deep. Almost everypony I’ve asked that today has spewed out some superficial garbage. Thank you, Miss Pie. I’ll let you go back to work. I appreciate your time.”

Raising one hoof, Pinkie Pie waved so hard that her curls all bobbed. “Have fun riding your camera-train!”

Did cakes have tiers? Twilight wasn’t sure. This cake had tiers, but she couldn’t be certain they were called that. Twilight had a woeful lack of cake terminology. The bottom of the cake used two of the six cakes baked, the largest cakes. Pinkie had frosted them with the mysterious frosting that was somehow white and yellow at the same time. Then, she had stabbed the cake with short wooden rods. How peculiar. Through observation, Twilight had learned that wedding cakes had internal, unseen support structures.

Piece by piece, layer by layer, Pinkie Pie built her wedding cake, slipping in support struts as needed when new layers were added. When she was done, she began cementing everything into place with additional frosting, giving the cake a smooth, unblemished, creamy, delicious surface that completely concealed where the layers met, giving the cake a solid, finished look.

When that was done, Pinkie Pie armed herself with a piping tube, and squeezing it between her fetlocks, she began to apply banana-yellow frosting to decorate the cake. It was slow, tedious work, the sort of work that made Twilight wonder how Pinkie had the patience to perform. For the first time, Twilight noticed that the mysterious white frosting that was sometimes yellow had more of a matte finish to it, while the banana-yellow frosting that Pinkie was applying was rather glossy looking. How? How was this done? Twilight found herself intrigued. There had to be a good explanation for how this was possible.

Pinkie Pie was drawing bananas on the cake; one at a time, on the sides, the broad area that was a perfect canvas. Each banana sat between smooth frameworked lines of piping and had even, measured spacing. How was Pinkie Pie eyeballing everything without a ruler or means to measure distance? To Twilight’s own critical eye, each banana placement was perfect, absolutely perfect.

Pinkie Pie operated in mysterious ways.

Like circling sharks, but not at all like lurking Snarkle Sharkles, the judges appeared, drawn out of the primordial seas as if by magic because of the allure of a picture-perfect cake placed out on display. In a moment of serendipitous convergence, so too did a fedoraed reporter arrive. As the situation developed, a lump the size of a bank safe settled into Twilight’s throat as her anxiety manifested, returning with compound interest due.

This time, Arroz Amandine actually pulled ahead of Gustave le Grande, eager to sample Pinkie’s cake. For Twilight, this made the situation all the more tense; Pinkie had a fan and fans had high expectations. Sometimes, they had downright unrealistic expectations and when these weren’t met, they ceased being fans.

A trolley-mounted camera rolled up on the tracks, ready to capture this moment on film.

Reaching out, Twilight grabbed Seville and pulled him close. She might have crushed him in her current state, but being a stout earth pony, he withstood the embrace of an anxiety-ridden alicorn—a distinct advantage of his tribe. Applejack’s nose was almost touching the see-through floor of the clear catwalk.

“Care to tell us about your cake?” Arroz asked before Gustave le Grande had the chance.

“It’s Absolutely Bananas,” Pinkie Pie replied. “I decided to go with something I’m already kinda famous for… something I’m familiar with. Then I pushed it to the next level and did my very best. This is my work… my livelihood. I guess maybe I want to know that my work has meaning.”

“Yes”—another mare pushed forward—“that’s all fine and good and we’re eager to assess your work, but we want to know more about the cake.”

“Oh.” This seemed to take Pinkie by surprise. “Oh.” She sniffed once, twice, and after the third time, she recovered her composure. “My Absolutely Bananas cake has the sweet flavours of bananas and cognac, with hints of citrus flavours from the cognac. The craziness comes whenever you eat one of the frosting bananas, because I make them from zingy lemon frosting and when ponies eat them, they’re expecting banana. It’s Absolutely Bananas! Ta-da!”

“Eez eet white or eez eet yellow?” Gustave le Grande’s head darted from side to side and he squinted with fierce intensity. “Eez eet both?”

Pinkie’s every breath caused her body to bob and Twilight redoubled her grip on Seville, who wheezed in response. Applejack had gone still and it was difficult to determine if she was even breathing. Arroz Amandine—whose cutie mark was a chef’s knife—pulled out a knife and went to work. From the topmost tier, she cut a thin triangle of cake just as one of her fellow celebrity chefs captured the moment on film with his camera.

The judges went to work and the routine was now almost familiar for Twilight. There seemed to be a debate over who would get the frosting banana. Gustave le Grande pulled rank though and practically gloating, he sampled the frosting banana that wasn’t banana at all, but lemon. Afterwards, some of the cake itself was sampled and the thin slice was picked over until nothing at all remained, not one crumb, not one smear of frosting upon the tiny sample plate.

“A wedding cake fit for royalty,” a stallion said and the others nodded in agreement.

“Indeed,” said another judge.

“Sweet notes of cognac… I think I like it better than bananas and rum.”

“Zee cake eez heavy… denze… but eez not dry.”

“I think the cake is more rich than dense. The butter and the bananas… the cake is solid without feeling weighty. You could definitely eat a hearty slice and go dancing.”

“Or play a rousing game of hide the pickle in the pony pita pocket with a bridesmaid.”

The judges snickered amongst themselves.

“Every other wedding cake I’ve sampled today has left me wanting a glass of milk,” a rather fat stallion said. “This one leaves me wanting a chaser.”

“They’ve been rather dry and bland, haven’t they?”

“I’ve grown nauseated at the prospect of tasting vanilla.”

“There was that chocolate wedding cake—”

“It was drier than Las Pegasus sand! Even the frosting was dry and filmy. Bleh!”

“When surrounded by terrible wedding cakes, finding an exceptional one makes it seem far better by comparison.”

“Agreed.”

Arroz nodded. “Sacrifices are made for presentation and structure. The cake has to be solid enough to support other layers. It has to be firm enough to survive transport. Making a cake durable and beautiful is a tricky task. It’s almost as if they were food sculptures that also just so happened to be edible.”

“No zacrifizez have been made here,” said Gustave le Grande.

“I do believe it would survive transport. It has excellent external structure with that frosting, whatever it is. I’m guessing the inside is made to match. No ruined wedding with a cake that fell apart mid-trip. It’s as solid as cement without being as dry as cement.”

A mare with chubby cheeks gave Gustave a wicked side-eye. “We have tarried long enough.”

“Are you in a hurry to eat more dry wedding cakes?” a stallion asked of his impatient celebrity companion.

The mare’s chubby cheeks quivered. “Scheiß drauf.”

“An oasis in the dessert desert.”

Leaning in close, the judges began their earnest deliberation. Twilight’s anxiety had reached a point where she was now causing Seville’s eyes to bulge. Rather than a look of pain, pleasure could be seen upon Seville’s face whilst his princess used him as a stress-squeezy. Others too, were watching, waiting, and some of them were chewing on their hooves. A nearby filly pranced in place as if she had to go potty.

“Get on with it!” a cranky old mare shouted.

Perhaps sensing what might be an angry mob, Gustave le Grande paused, pulled away from his companions, and glanced around at the ponies above him. He studied their faces, their reactions, and Twilight found that he even stared up at her. After a good look around, he cast his critical gaze upon the cake.

“Eet would be eezy to give ziz cake a zilver, by lack of competition, but that I do believe would be a mizcarriage of juztize. Eet eez a difficult determination. Zee fact that zee cake is without peer cannot be ignored.”

“One above average cake surrounded by mediocre cakes does not a winner make,” a stallion said while nodding his head. “That makes this determination difficult. But I think we all agree this is not an above average cake. While it is true that this cake is made better by comparison, this is an exceptional cake to begin with. Giving it a silver would be a shame. We should not downgrade it for lack of competition.”

Twilight, confused, wasn’t sure what was going on.

“What’s happening?” she whispered into Seville’s ear.

“A lack of competition,” Seville replied, his words strained from the pressure around his ribs.

Blinking, Twilight was still just as baffled as she was before she asked her question.

“Should Pinkie win by default?” Applejack cast a sidelong glance at Twilight while the judges continued their debate down below. “That’s what they’re deliberatin’. It’s a matter of merits, Twi. The competition is so bad that Pinkie’s cake stands out a whole bunch by comparison. But how good is it really, when there is nothing else to compare it with?”

“Oh!” This was something that Twilight understood. It was the scientific method, but applied to wedding cake. The sample data was terrible and an anomaly emerged which just so happened to be a desired result. How should it be measured then? Twilight understood it as a matter of recognition. They were going to give Pinkie a silver, but the debate was whether or not she deserved a gold chip. Did she get a gold chip because everything else was terrible by comparison or because she had made a truly exceptional product? That was tough to sort out!

The anticipation caused Twilight’s mouth to go dry.

“Do the right thing!” the old mare shouted.

Gustave le Grande looked positively tortured. Drumming his claws upon the counter top, the griffon wrestled with his difficult decision while Pinkie Pie flexed her knees and bounced in place. Arroz began nodding her head, a powerful message of confirmation. After what felt like far too long, the griffon reached into his pocket and drew forth a glittering gold chip.

He held out before Pinkie’s nose, and the pink mare went cross-eyed trying to look at it.

“I think,” he began, “you found your confidenze with zee first one.”

Then, saying nothing else, he set the gold chip down upon the counter. Snapping his claws, he then made a gesture indicating it was time to go, and then he strode away. His fellow celebrity chefs followed, but it was Arroz Amandine who took a moment to bow her head to Pinkie. The pink pronker held herself together remarkably well, and it was only after the celebrity chefs had left her cubicle that she started to cry.

Author's Note

So... how many points does Pinkie Pie have? :pinkiecrazy:

Chapter 26

The mouth-watering, scrumptious cake beckoned like a siren’s song, but Twilight was wary for reasons she did not fully understand. Pinkie Pie—her laugh lines still damp, like desert arroyos after rain—made a come-hither gesture with her hoof while Applejack gave the pink mare a curious side-eye. Seville too, was standing near the table where Twilight had first placed the wedding cake when they had returned to their room.

For some reason, this felt like more than just sampling a slice of cake.

Eyes alight with a mischievous glow, Pinkie Pie somehow left Twilight bewitched. Cautious, the alicorn crept forward with a keen, anxiety-inducing awareness that this was a wedding cake and wedding cakes had their own mysterious, as-of-yet unexplored magic that caused hooves to experience the sensation of rapid temperature plunges, leading to a frosty, chilling effect.

“I put my heart and soul into this cake,” Pinkie Pie said to her friends in a somewhat phlegmy voice. Her mouth opened, her jaw muscles flexed, but whatever words she was about to say never manifested. Instead, she shook her head and a few tears, late for the party, joined their fellows in Pinkie’s crinkled laugh lines. “I needed my wedding cake to be perfect. Just perfect.”

“They almost gave you a silver.” A sour green Apple expression could be seen in Applejack’s eyes. “I think there mighta been a riot if they did that. I mean, it’s hard to give a gold when there’s no real competition, but I think public opinion had a lot to do with this one.”

“And for that, I am grateful.” Again, Pinkie Pie made a come-hither gesture to lure Twilight closer.

When Twilight stood near the table, she could feel eyes on her. Seville. Applejack. Pinkie. Bundt. The soft purr of the air conditioning resonated through the palatial Princess Suite, muffling sound, but also providing a pleasant white noise. Every earth pony present stared at her as if they were silent statues, the stoic, stony witnesses that watched as the ages continued their slow march.

Smiling, Pinkie Pie sighed the words, “Nothing about this is going in the proper order.”

This gave Twilight pause and she asked, “What do you mean, Pinkie?”

“Nuttin’.” Pupils now as small as pinpricks, Pinkie Pie cast a furtive glance that roamed from side to side.

Eyes narrowing, Twilight was not convinced by Pinkie’s response. Something in the back of her mind suggested that Pinkie Pie had said something else that was intriguing just before leaving, but that voice was silenced for the sake of the moment—Twilight wanted a slice of cake.

Moving with the greased lightning speed that Pinkie was known for, the notorious pink pronker swiped the cake with her hoof, scraping off a portion of frosting and delicious, rich, golden yellow cake. Before Twilight could react, Pinkie made another swipe—a quick, deft movement—and Twilight’s eyes crossed so that she could focus upon the frosted mess of cake that was now smeared on her snoot.

She blinked once, twice, and when she opened her eyes from the third blink, Seville licked her. This was quite different than a kiss, in which he had licked the inside of her mouth and the surface of her tongue; he had just licked her nose. The only pony that licked Twilight’s nose was Twilight, because noses had nostrils and nostrils had boogeys and the risk of an embarrassing social situation was just too much to bear.

“Hey, I was gonna lick that,” Pinkie grumbled while Seville slurped a glob of frosting from the corner of his mouth.

Twilight’s brain devoted all available cognitive power to process the fact that her nose had just been licked by another pony, and she struggled to find a valid frame of reference. Rainbow Dash had once licked her ear and that was cause for a major moment of squick. Ears had earwax! While central processing put all reactions on hold, Pinkie Pie slathered another dollop of cake and frosting onto Twilight’s snoot.

Knowing what was about to happen didn’t make it any better and Twilight was frozen in place when Pinkie began licking off the mess she had made. So still was Twilight that her tail didn’t even twitch, nor did her wings fidget against her sides. Not even an ear twitch. Smacking her lips, Pinkie cast an annoyed glance at Seville, no doubt still peeved about his dastardly theft.

“I made a perfect cake for a perfect moment,” Pinkie Pie remarked, her ears pivoting around to face both Seville and Twilight. “This wasn’t exactly the moment I had planned, but I did get the cake perfect, and I have proof. A gold chip. So I suppose that makes the moment perfect. I dunno, feels circular. Like a donut. Does donut logic apply? Does a baker have donut logic? Can you frost donut logic? Or glaze it? Is it just me, or have glazed donuts always been kinda lewd? I asked Maud about it once, and she just snorted. So I asked Marble about it, and she panicked and ran out of the room to find her hubby-wubby.”

Confused and lightly frosted, Twilight had no idea what was going on or what was being said. Her nose was sticky… damp with slobber… and her brain was still busy trying to sort out all of these fascinating new experiences, with a raging debate about what went on which shelf, and where, and why.

“You three make a cute trouple.” Bundt didn’t look at Twilight for long and the pregnant mare’s attention focused upon the glorious, delicious monument of bananatical devotion. “What’s our plans for din-din?”

Again, Twilight’s snoot was frosted and this time, she licked her own nose clean, all while thinking of the fact that her nose was drenched in Seville and Pinkie slobber. That was the way of things; the continued, logical progression to swapping spit. It was dipping your hoof into a pool to check the waters. Later, there would be exchanges of other bodily fluids, which may or may not end up in the proper orifices.

Biology was terrifying and gross.

Then, while Twilight was thinking about the flood of bodily fluids, Pinkie Pie frosted Seville’s nose and shoved him almost into Twilight. Did love mean you were comfortable with licking another pony’s nose? Was this a test? A ritual of sorts that broke taboo? It was easy to be in love, but it was hard to be committed. When you were in love, it was all pretty flowers and butterflies and sweet, swift pecks on the cheek. But when you were committed, it meant grooming your partner to help them remove parasites like fleas. Or helping them to apply hemorrhoid cream. Comforting them and ultimately kissing them while they were sick—all snotty and gross.

Shivering, Twilight licked Seville’s nose and tried not to think too hard about it.

When Pinkie Pie presented her own frosted nose, Twilight found her courage and gave her friend’s snoot an enthusiastic lick. An ‘I love you enough to risk communicable disease’ lick right on the snot squirter. The boogey bunker. While Twilight was collecting her thoughts, Pinkie offered herself up to Seville.

Unicorns had far more sanitary existences. Who needed dirty hooves that had been on the ground when you had magic? Twilight had endured real trauma when she learned how to clean her wings—preening them properly meant putting them in your mouth, of all places. Earth ponies lived with a constant connection to the ground. For the first time, Twilight considered what this meant; not as a passing thought, or a curious flight of fancy, but she gave it the thorough reflection it deserved.

Not only had she done her friends a disservice, but herself as well.

This tradition—gross as it was—prepared ponies for the horrors ahead. Thoughtful, Twilight leaned in and gave Seville a smooch on the corner of his mouth while Pinkie licked his nose. Then, before she could slip away to arm herself with more frosting, Twilight smooched Pinkie Pie as well. Applejack said something, something low beneath her breath, but Twilight’s ears were directed at Seville and Pinkie.

“What are we to one another?” Twilight asked, exposing her vulnerabilities before her friends.

Pinkie offered no reply; she was busy cutting what remained of the topmost tier of the cake with swift, but careful strokes, using a knife that she had somehow pulled out of her mane. With a turn of her head, Twilight looked at Seville, seeking an answer, some means of assurance. Seville’s eyes were green, almost like Applejack’s but different. This close, it was easy to see the family resemblance.

“That’s easy,” he said, maintaining eye-contact. “Three friends agreeing to face whatever the future has in store for them together.”

“It sounds so much simpler when you put it that way.” Twilight shook her head but continued looking into Seville’s cheerful green eyes. “But things are going to be complicated. Being friends with me isn’t easy, by virtue of who and what I am and—”

“Tell me about it.”

Twilight paused to ponder the meaning of Applejack’s interruption. Unsure of her friend’s intent, she continued, “I want things to work out between us. I do, really. I do. But I also saw what happened to Cadance and Shining Armor. And then there was everything that happened with Celestia, Luna, and Gosling. It’s one thing to be friends, but lovers? This is so complicated. The politics involved in my every action, my every doing, even my act of breathing is scrutinised by the public and I can’t turn away from it. I can’t escape it. I’m a princess and I feel as though I owe you better. Owe you something more. I feel like my loyalties are divided… because as much as I want to give all of myself to you, I can’t. I’m public property. The public owns me. I am their servant. Because of that, I have to hold back a part of myself from you… and every time I try to face that, I just… I just can’t Which is why I’m stuck. I don’t know how to sort all of this out.”

“Twilight…” Applejack leaned in, her eyes narrowed, her voice husky, and her drawl was the thickest it had been in a long while. “Remember what I said… let go. Call fer help if’n ya hafta, but let go. For your friends to catch ya, ya hafta let go.”

Closing her eyes, Twilight nodded.

Somewhat unsettled, Twilight squirmed and tried to get comfortable on her cushion. On the short, low table before her, the candles sputtered and flickered, no doubt because somepony was breathing on them, unawares. Tonight’s meal was Windian and even though the Moondust Resort & Casino was packed with ponies for the bake-off, this place was almost deserted.

“Daal gives me gas,” Bundt announced out of the blue. When Twilight turned to look at her, she quickly explained herself. “We’re sleeping together. Um, no… well, yes actually, but, um, no”—she made a gesture with her hoof—“we’re sharing the same sleeping space.”

“We’re sharing the same bed,” Applejack said while brushing her mane out of her face. “Those cots is awful. No support at all. And there’s that metal bar right in the daggum middle where they fold. Feels like it is gonna cut a pony’s spine right in half.”

“Corbie got a nest box.” Seville steered the conversation into new territory. “She’s started sleeping better. Now she’s not as stressed. It’s funny, and a bit strange how some pegasus ponies like to sleep in cabinets. She keeps all of her trinkets in there.”

“I’d be scared to have a little unicorn or a pegasus,” Bundt said to her table companions and she patted her stomach. “I’d want to raise them well, you know. But there are things I don’t know about… like sleeping in cupboards and unicorn stuff. I don’t want to be a bad mom, ya know? I wouldn’t want my foals to go play with unicorns or pegasus and not know squat about their tribal culture. That scares me.”

“That right there is why so many foals end up in the orphanariums and such.” Applejack’s green eyes glittered in the candlelight. “Good parents try to do right by it. They see it as a challenge to take on. But bad parents? Bad parents run from it. It happens right where I live, and it disgusts me. There’s more than enough unicorns and pegasuses and earth ponies around to help out, to pitch in and make right. It just chaps my hide that it happens.”

“You’re mad ‘cause of Fluttershy, aren’t you?” Seville asked of the angered apple farmer.

Pressing her hooves together, Applejack took a moment to consider the question before she answered, “Yes! It’s awful on her. I guess I hadn’t thought about it, but now that you mention it, I’m downright peeved that she’s the one who has to suffer. And it’s a small town, too. Flutters knows who those foals belong to. But she can’t say anything or do anything when yet another bundle of joy is left on her doorstep.”

After a disgusted grunt, Applejack added, “Change of subject.”

“Did Booker get squared away?” Twilight asked of her new assistant.

“Yes. Telegrams came from Canterlot. Vouchers, I guess? Not sure.” Bundt now wore an apologetic expression. “He was very helpful today. A really decent fella. I think he was a little wary of me at first. Hard to say. Once we got familiar with one another, he was a different pony. He acts like a knight, or something.”

“When bad things happen to Fluttershy,” Applejack blurted out, “it just leaves me sore!”

An unusually quiet Pinkie Pie reached out and patted her friend to comfort her.

“Boss—”

“Call me Twilight.”

“Yeah, but right now, I need to speak to my boss.” Bundt’s ears pricked in a cautious way, then resumed a more submissive position in a relaxed, rear-facing angle. “I was going over the inventories today. With Booker. Boss, you bought cameras and movie making equipment. When you co-opted the bake-off, you really did get everything. Boom mics, cameras, sound equipment, you have all of this equipment now.”

Twilight found this rather intriguing, and from the looks of things, so did Seville.

“Boss, you have ovens, equipment, appliances… you took everything required to run a bake-off… so I was wondering. What’s stopping you from throwing your own bake-off? Corporate sponsorship is nice, I suppose, but with all of this equipment, you have the means to run your own bake-off. Your way. Your rules. You wouldn’t need the Equestrian Baking League. Boss, before you say anything, please remember… I’m also a baker. It’s my calling. I also just so happen to have connections to the uh, shall we call it the film industry? Why not just run this yourself?”

Stupefied, Twilight sat there, blinking.

“But it can’t just be about earth ponies. Boss, I was thinking. You could run a show for earth ponies, another show just for pegasus ponies, and a third show for unicorns. One pony from each tribe could be made into an honourary princess or prince. Well, for that year. And then the three of them could work together for tribal relations… until they had to defend their titles for the next year. It’s a little exploitive, I’ll admit, but it is a good exploitive.”

“That”—Applejack took a moment to nod her head— “is a damn fine idea.”

“If we do it that way, we can snuff out the accusations of tribalism. They’re competing for a position of public service for the benefit of their own tribe.” Seville leaned in close to Twilight and clutched her fetlock in his own. “Boss—”

“Don’t you start!” Twilight tried to tug her fetlock away, but Seville did not let go. After a moment, she couldn’t help herself, she laughed.

“Sounds like a party.” Within Pinkie Pie’s blue eyes there was a seriousness that Twilight had never seen before. “And parties need a planner. Remind me again, Twilight, who has a secret underground lair just for the purpose of organising parties?”

“You do?” A little mystified, Twilight noticed that the pieces were falling into place already.

“That’s right, I do.”

“I’ll be your first corporate backer,” Applejack offered. “But only on the condition that you endorse Sweet Apple Acre apples. I ain’t asking for nothing else, and I don’t want you beholden to me in any other way. It’s an honest deal. In return, I’ll supply you with apples. That’s the length and the breadth of it. A bake-off needs apples.”

“Deals like that don’t exist.” Seville snorted in contempt while rolling his eyes. “A hundred pages of legalese later—”

“Seville, no jokes right now. I swear to Princess Celestia, I will squeeze the juice outta ya!”

“Sorry, Jackie.”

“Ya ain’t sorry yet, but one day you will be. All your future troubles will come squirtin’ out from the nethers you go nosin’.”

Blushing a little, Twilight glanced at the ponies gathered around the table with her one by one and began to wonder if they could really pull this off. These events had to start somehow, she reasoned. Somepony had to find a way to start the tradition and then hope it stuck. Bundt needed an official position still, and this, this was a tempting fit. Pinkie Pie could most certainly organise this. It would give Seville an endless source of stories.

“Can we really do this?” Twilight asked.

To which Pinkie Pie replied, “You get the right group of friends together and you can do anything!”

Author's Note

The glorious upswing... before the final descent.

Chapter 27

The third day of the competition, but not technically the last day. A closing ceremony was planned for the day after and this was going to be the final closing ceremony. The big goodbye. The grand finale. The final chapter, or perhaps the epilogue. While endings were sometimes inevitable, Twilight had plans and good intentions—the very best and finest of intentions. She had high hopes.

Only one baking event would be held today for the contestants, the final one, and that would take place in the afternoon. For the morning, however, there was a baking discovery event for foals; an opportunity for the next generation to discover a love of baking. An event that offered up a chance to find a cutie mark. Twilight was required to attend and to sample the various creations of the little ones. During this time, Twilight suspected that the celebrity chef judges would be debating and settling the special show ribbons to determine this year’s big winners.

But facing the day meant getting up out of the bed, which was an absolutely dreadful idea. Twilight, flat on her back, formed the bread of a Pinkie Pie sandwich, along with Seville. Of course, at any moment now, Pinkie would go shooting out of bed, unable to contain her own energy, but this moment was lovely while it lasted. Applejack was already up and about, and Bundt had reluctantly crawled out of the bed so she could go potty.

“Twilight…”

“Yes, Pinkie?”

“There’s something you should know.”

“What’s that, Pinkie?”

“The juniour bakers events routinely give ponies food poisoning. We’ll be here for you.”

“What?”

“We’ll be here for you.”

“No, that first thing. Food poisoning?”

“They’re still learning, Twilight. It happens. Say… do you remember Applejack’s baked bads? When she was a sleepy, tired, silly pony?”

From the other room, Applejack’s voice could be heard: “I’m not a silly pony!”

“Hey, Twilight… can I ask you a personal question?”

Twilight, resigning herself to certain intestinal disaster, replied, “Sure, why not? We’re friends, right?”

“Are alicorn sphincters strong enough to hold back the worstest cases of the squishy-squirts?”

Staring up at the ceiling, Twilight did not respond right away. There was a grunt from Seville, which sounded a bit like the sort of grunt a pony makes when they attempt to swallow their own laughter. Pinkie’s leg shifted and Twilight felt the fuzzy appendage slide along her tummy—as well as other unmentionable places. Electric tingles danced up and down her spine and she hoped the pleasurable friction of movement would continue.

“Quite the opposite is true,” Twilight replied, slipping into science mode to protect her own mental state of well-being. “Alicorn gut muscles are such that everything is evacuated from the body with far greater force. Absolutely destructive force, in fact. Uh, forces greater than fire hose pressures, I suspect. Throwing up has become quite an experience.”

“Neat.” Pinkie Pie grinned. “Just imagine what morning sickness will be like!”

Eager little faces possessed smiles full of sunshine. Less than half an hour ago, the gleaming kitchen space had been spotless—utterly spotless. Now, it was a Category Five Disaster Zone in need of a hazmat certified clean-up crew. Earth pony adults guided earth pony foals through the difficult, intricate tasks of baking. Parents cheered from the sidelines, hooting and hollering while stomping their hooves. There was no point in crying over spilled milk, but you could say “Ew!” when stepping in it.

Twilight had but one imperative: use no magic.

No saving anything when it fell. Messes were left untidied. No magical assistance could be offered. Eggshells that made their way into food could not be removed. Nothing could be done, no assistance could be offered. She had been informed that she could not use magic to eat her food, either. Her job was to sit, observe, and sample food, along with celebrity chef, Mulia Mild.

It occured to Twilight that she hadn’t watched many cooking movies.

Pinkie Pie loved cooking movies, and Twilight, being a busy mare, seldom watched movies at all. Perhaps this needed to change. When she got home, she’d have Spike pencil some movie time into the schedule. Seville too, would have to change his schedule; time would have to be found because he was often in Canterlot, working. In fact, Seville was one of the few ponies as busy as Twilight, which presented a major source of difficulty when they were trying to get together.

Twilight wasn’t sure where Pinkie was at the moment; no doubt she was busy preparing for her final dish, whatever that dish might be. Seville was working, listening to the stories of others, their inspirations, their triumphs, and no doubt, their failures. Applejack, a helpful sort, had gone off to assist Bundt in the command center. A strange friendship of sorts had blossomed between the two of them and this filled Twilight with a relieved sense of happiness, because she liked when her friends were friends with one another.

“Majesty?”

Turning towards the sound, Twilight saw a timid-looking pegasus with apologetic eyes.

“You’re needed in the command center. Miss Buttercream sent me to fetch you. We have a crisis developing.”

“A crisis?” Twilight felt a hot prickle just as a painful tightness circled her ribs. “But I just fixed a crisis. Why is there another crisis already?”

The pegasus shrugged.

“That’s a rhetorical question.” Wincing, Twilight wished the tightness in her barrel would go away. “I’ll be right there. In fact, I’ll probably get there before you do. Would you like for me to take you with me?”

In response, the pegasus gave her head a frantic shake.

“Suit yourself,” Twilight said just before vanishing.

A pall had been cast over the command center and Twilight felt it right away when she materialised in the middle of the room. Applejack was mid-sentence and the apple farmer was spitting out a stream of peculiar, agricultural vulgarities that would have greatly expanded Sumac Apple’s vocabulary, had he been present. Ponies—some of which had worked in porn—appeared shocked by what Applejack was saying.

With Twilight’s sudden appearance, the room fell into gradual silence.

Seville was here. Why was Seville here, in the command center, and not out reporting? It seemed as though everypony was hesitant to tell her what was going on. Had somepony died? Was the bake-off cancelled again? Had an accident taken place that had left somepony maimed or mutilated? The parade of question marks continued through Twilight’s head while she waited for somepony to explain what was going on.

“The papers…” With these two words, Seville summed up the situation.

Grinding her teeth, Twilight thought about just how much she hated the papers.

“Uh, Twilight… some things got said. Not nice things. Some really bad things.” Applejack’s mood shifted from angry and profane to sad and apologetic. “On top of that, we’ve had three of our celebrity chefs up and quit on account of what was in the papers.”

“Things blew up in the worst way possible,” an earth pony mare said to Twilight. “You were accused of engineering a crisis and subsequent blowout here at the bake-off so you could drive Miss Blintz away and take over the bake-off for your own nefarious purposes. They’ve cooked up an awful narrative that includes everything from wasting taxes, to corruption, to favouritism. There are accusations that you did this so that you could help your friend Pinkie Pie win the bake-off. It pretty much paints everything in the worst possible light.”

“And three of our celebrity chefs don’t want the stink of scandal on them, so they left. They said this had become damaging to their public image and their careers, which are heavily dependent upon their public image.”

“Yeah. One said they never want to work with royalty again, ‘cause you’re all scandal-magnets.”

“And then,” Applejack muttered, her green eyes stormy, “there’s the accusations of tribalism on account of how you’re wasting taxpayer bits on an earth pony bake-off, which you seem to have nationalised, and everypony is speculating on the hows and the whys for what’s been done.”

“One story suggests that you’re exploiting earth ponies for entertainment purposes, kinda like how the unicorns used to do in those old minstrel shows.” Unable to look Twilight in the eye, the meek stallion dropped his gaze to the floor.

“Then there are the stories of responsible Crown spending and how we have so many things that need funding, but you spent a bloody fortune on a show for earth ponies that nopony cares about. That one hurt a bit. I’m a unicorn, and I care about what is happening here.” Standing up straight, the unicorn managed to look Twilight in the eye for all of about five seconds before averting her gaze. “As a unicorn, I am super embarrassed and ashamed for my tribe’s reactions to this… for a lot of things, actually. I don’t agree with anything my tribal representatives had to say in the papers.”

Twilight’s mouth opened, the room went quiet in anticipation of whatever might be said, but no words came forth. Not a one. With a click of her teeth, Twilight’s mouth closed and then she stood there, making a valiant effort to control her breathing. The backlash was far, far worse than she had anticipated. She had dared rear her head to do the right thing—and then this happened. Sweat poured down her neck and it felt as though searing hot iron was being pressed against her skin.

“Most of this stuff just isn’t true—”

“That doesn’t matter,” Seville snapped.

“How could the truth not matter?” the interrupted mare asked.

“The truth has never mattered. All that matters is what the public wants to believe. And with the press poisoning public opinion every day, the public is ready to believe anything that fits the established narrative. The wound left behind by Mister Mariner still festers.”

Seville sounded every bit as angry and anxious as Twilight felt.

“Twilight has her own school,” Seville continued, “and the media portrays it as a factory for indoctrination. Celestia too. Little foal-soldiers raised up to fanatically support their tyrannical rule so this oppression can continue unabated. This is the narrative created.”

“What a load of malarkey!” a stallion shouted.

“And yet ponies believe it to be true!” a unicorn mare hollered out in reply. “My father certainly believes in it. He insists that Mariner was a hero… a pony of the people. The Deliverer of the Earth Pony Tribe. He’s made a shrine to Mariner and does nothing but spout his ideals. My father and I don’t talk anymore. He insists it’s ‘cause I’m a tribalist, and he regrets having me as his daughter.”

A tendril of chaos wormed its way into Twilight’s heart.

“But… but… but you’re here helping us earth ponies with something truly near and dear to our hearts… how can you be a tribalist?” a confused earth pony stallion asked.

“I work very hard to bring us together, and my father works just as hard to tear us apart.”

“Enough!” Twilight shouted and her voice was like a thunderclap. “Can the show continue? Can we finish?”

“Our celebrity judges are deliberating right now,” Bundt replied, giving Twilight a fearless look in the eye. “I promised that we would respect their decision, no matter what it was. It would be awful of us to ruin their careers. If the rest of them wish to cut and run, I think the show will be over. So everything hinges upon their decision.”

Scowling, Twilight hoped that the worst wouldn’t happen, while preparing for it all the same. This might very well end, and it was outside of her control. It felt as though she was being roasted on a spit and she began feeling faint-headed. She stomped over to the water fountain, mashed the hoof-pedal down, and had herself a long, long drink. Not so much to slake her thirst, but more of a desperate effort to get cool because these anxiety hot flashes were downright unbearable.

“Twilight”—Seville’s voice was gritty with anger, or perhaps rage—“this problem can no longer be ignored. You and I both know how I feel about a free press, but this has gone on for far too long. Something has to be done and if Celestia won’t do it… maybe it is time for somepony else to step up and do something.”

“My father says that the first shots in the coming revolution will be a direct assault upon the press. The truth-tellers, as he calls them.”

Unable to respond, Twilight closed her eyes, pressed her head into the fountain, and allowed the cold water to splash against her face. It was cold, but not cold enough to do anything about the sensation of imminent spontaneous combustion. When her face was soaked, she pushed her head in a little further and allowed the frigid water to drench her ears. When Twilight pulled her sopping wet head out of the fountain and stood dripping on the floor, she heard a familiar voice speaking.

“We’ve had our discussion and we’re staying. Gustave just wants to go back to sorting out which dish gets which recognition.”

“I think I speak for everypony when I say that we’re all very appreciative of your choice,” Bundt said to Arroz.

“We’re not making anything better by quitting. Gustave believes in what Princess Twilight is doing… and I suppose I do too. Anyhow, we have a lot of sorting out to do.”

Relieved, Twilight heaved a sigh while Arroz Amandine trotted off back down the hall. For now, the worst possible outcome to this crisis had been averted. The show would go on. But that wasn’t to say that everything was fine and good, no. Twilight, raw from everything that had happened, still had a show to run. She had no time to wallow in her own misery, to deal with her own anxiety. For now, all she could do was grin and bear it. To stuff it all down inside and keep going.

There was still a lot of princessing left to do.

Author's Note

Why, it's enough to drive a princess to drink.

Chapter 28

Twilight hadn’t read all of the papers, but she had read enough to gain the gist of what had been said. In spite of the negativity, she felt a powerful sense of gratitude for those who had chosen to stick by her during this difficult, trying time. Their loyalty would be remembered, and, if she could help it, rewarded somehow.

Hot, queasy, and itching from hoof to ear, Twilight did her best to look princessly for the adorable little bakers that were all trying so very hard. She admired their effort, their optimism. They were still plucky and life hadn’t beaten them down yet. If she squinted at them just right, she saw what Gosling saw in them—the future. Twilight didn’t want to believe the current generation was lost and struggled valiantly to recognise those fighting the good fight. Yet, she could not deny that there were moments—like right now—where everything felt impossibly broken.

Watching the little bakers labour away, she thought of Seville and his efforts to reform journalism. Could she be doing more? Was this a problem that would sort itself out in time? Would it gradually correct itself? Conflicted, Twilight wasn’t sure how she felt about a free press. At one point, when she was younger and her ideals had not yet been tarnished, she had believed that a free press was vital to the function of society. Time had done its utmost to prove her wrong though, and the press remained a constant threat to the stability of Equestria.

The modest changes made in the wake of Mariner’s Gambit had proved ineffective. In fact, in some ways, they had made the problem worse. The fact that the press had been held accountable—held to the fire and made to squeal for mercy, as Blueblood had once said—had only further roiled the bad blood between the royals and the press.

Even the Crusaders had succumbed to tabloid gossip and sensationalism.

Was this just equine nature? Twilight feared she knew the answer, but it meant tapping into her inky nature. She thought of Fancy and Empereur Chanson Argentée; Fancy had but one newspaper and it was run by the Crown. She had never cared for this position, but now she understood it. Stability—especially post-revolution and post-war—was tenuous at best. Some even called it an illusion. Fancy, as a nation, was still not united and the dreadful fighting continued whilst the Empereur fought to restore order, to unify.

The tribes that Equestria had now were not the same tribes they had during its founding. These ponies were immigrants, newcomers, and many of them did not share Equestrian ideals. Mariner had been an immigrant—Bourgogne Blintz was as well—but Twilight refused to believe that immigrants were the cause of the problem. Though perhaps they did make the problem worse. Equestria had been founded over a thousand years ago, a merger between the New Tribes and the First Tribes, both survivors who feared the world ending. She had even been there for this fateful meeting, having witnessed it during her long walk home.

Those ponies were long dead and gone; perhaps their ideals had departed as well.

Perhaps Equestrians needed new windigos for the sake of unity.

Twilight was pulled from her thoughts by the stench of ink. It burned her eyes and left her with the dreadful sensation of needing to sneeze—but as an alicorn, sneezes could be dangerous. Sneezing was dangerous because of the sheer strength offered by the earth pony part of the alicorn amalgamation. She feared a takeover by ink and struggled against it.

“Look!” a mare cried. “The flash of light! A new mark! A new mark!”

The inky reaction subsided just a little.

“Way to go, Apple Brownie!”

Twilight, her face a solemn mask, leveled her gaze upon the colt that had just been touched by destiny. The scent of ink was still strong in her nose, still pungent, it was the scent of destiny itself. After a moment of silent, solemn study, she made a gesture with her hoof while saying, “Come here, little one.”

A strange quiet settled over the room.

The colt, covered in flour and everything else, made a slow, cautious approach. Not fearful, but shy perhaps. He had just been touched by destiny and before he even had a chance to respond, he had been summoned by an alicorn princess—a confounding moment if ever there was one.

While the colt approached, Twilight could feel a future being determined. New words were forming in the colt’s book of life. He had come to some grand realisation that would shape his future in some meaningful, profound way. The colt had made a choice, or perhaps had accepted some fundamental aspect of himself. There were many variations, many reasons, many causes, all with one outcome; destiny called—and something within the colt had answered. Not every call was answered and sometimes, many calls were made—but at this moment, at this time, everything aligned and meaningful purpose manifested.

“Apple Brownie,” Twilight said to the colt while she looked into rather familiar green eyes. “You’re an Apple. Just like the Element of Honesty, Applejack. My dear friend.”

The colt shuffled on his hooves, but offered no reply.

“How old are you, Apple Brownie?”

“I just turned nine a few days ago,” he replied while the camera zoomed in to focus on both him and Twilight.

“Been baking long?” Twilight asked.

“Since I was a yearling.”

“Did you spend a lot of time trying to find your cutie mark?” Twilight leaned forwards so that she might study the colt better.

“Yes. Just like the Cutie Mark Crusaders! I tried everything! I thought I’d get a cutie mark for baking, and I kept waiting for it to happen, but when I wasn’t baking I was trying all of the new things that I could just in case there was something I was good at. As it turns out, I’m good at a lot of things.”

Twilight gestured with her hoof for the colt to come closer. “And what do you suppose happened? You’ve been baking all this time… but your mark came now. Why do you think that might be?”

Nervous, the colt licked his lips while glancing over his withers at the camera. After a moment, he returned his gaze to Twilight, his ears pinned back, and he tried dusting some of the flour from his ruddy red pelt. “I was thinking ‘bout stuff my Mama said.”

“And what did she say?”

“My Mama… erm… my Mom… she said this might be our last bake-off and she told me to make the most of it. Last night she explained to me how important it was to keep our traditions alive. She said we have to fight to keep our traditions so they won’t be taken from us. And so while I was baking, I was thinking about what she said. I told myself that even if this is the last bake-off just for us, I told myself that I’d find a way to keep the tradition alive… like my Mom said… so it won’t be taken from me. Our traditions are all us earth ponies have left. Pretty much everything else has been taken.”

An internal debate raged within Twilight; she wanted to refute what the colt had said about everything else having been taken. But now was not the time. This was not the right moment. Looking into his eyes, the windows to his soul, Twilight saw profound wisdom and potential. What an odd time for such a mark, when the future was so uncertain. With automation, the poor colt might not even have a job—not as a baker anyhow. Twilight wasn’t sure what she saw and the future remained cloudy, obscured by ink. But at a time of great upheaval, a mark that reminded one of the importance of tradition, that was an important mark indeed.

A few squares of chocolate and a wedge of apple.

“Traditions are your roots, little one,” Twilight began whilst she called to mind everything that Applejack had tried to teach her about earth pony culture. “You are but an apple sapling. Grow for the sky, little one, reach for Princess Celestia’s sun and all will be well. When you have grown tall and mighty, cast your shadow and remember well your roots. Pass along seeds of knowledge so that others might also put down roots. May your family be an orchard.”

“You honour me, Princess.” The colt bowed his head and tears shimmered in his eyes.

“Return to your task, Apple Brownie. And be mindful of your roots.”

Twilight’s stomach gurgled as she pushed away her plate with a half-eaten peanut butter and cottage cheese sandwich. After sampling the treats of the juniour bakers, she wasn’t feeling so well. Never had brownies been so crunchy—or had so much extra calcium. A more curious epicurean experience had never been encountered—or endured. Twilight prayed that her alicorn gizzards were up to the challenge of digesting raw-burnt cookies.

Even Pinkie Pie was unusually quiet, subdued, and more distracted than usual. Twilight hoped it wouldn’t affect her performance too much. Yet again, Twilight’s friends had to suffer simply because of who and what she was. Bad things had been said about them too. The sandwich, half-eaten, seemed sad somehow. A sandwich that had not fulfilled its purpose in life.

Instead of celebrating Pinkie Pie’s victories, everypony was down in the dumps.

“I had a thought.” Hesitant to share with her friends, the remaining words lingered upon the tip of Twilight’s tongue. “Equestria’s tribes aren’t the same tribes who founded Equestria. The lesson of Hearth’s Warming that brought us all together… the descendents of those survivors have become the minority, I think. Not only has the significance of the story faded from our shared memories, but the ponies of Equestria as it is now no longer share this as a common point of origin.”

“Eeyup.”

“Applejack?” Twilight, somewhat disturbed by her friend’s casual agreement, turned her head to look the apple farmer right in the eye.

“It’s like that story about the unicorn and his airship and that long voyage into the unknown mists. He sailed so long and so far, and so many bad things happened, and that airship had to be rebuilt a number of times along the way. The airship he had at the end of his journey was not the same one as he had left home with. Or was it? They had the same name. But ponies argue if it was truly the same ship or not. The long voyage took a toll and bit by bit, the airship was replaced. That’s Equestria. Hearth’s Warming don’t mean nothing to the immigrants we got now. Those ponies we gots from Windia? They don’t remember windigos, they remember their caste system and the unicorns that abused them. And all that spoken sentiment spreads like wildfire.”

This gave Twilight pause, and she considered her friend’s words.

“We’ve grown lazy and we coast on past glories,” Seville said after he swallowed. “Equestria’s Civil War happened because of the massive influx of immigration and the new ideals and ideas brought by the immigrants. That wasn’t even a generation ago. We’re so focused on our past values that we completely ignore the new values being shipped over with every boatload of immigrants. Sooner or later, those values will come to a head, just like they did a few decades ago.”

“You really think it will come to that?” Twilight asked Seville.

“History shows us that it has already happened.”

Blinking, Twilight realised that the point could not be argued nor debated.

“Yeah, whatever Equestria was a thousand years ago, it’s not now.” Applejack pushed away her empty plate, leaned back in her chair, and blew a muffled belch into her fetlock. “We were three tribes who came together for shared survival. We was scared shitless by them there windigo sons of bitches. And that shared fear gave us all a common ground. But now? Most ponies don’t even believe that windigos existed. Just an Equestrian folk tale.”

“I feel incredibly dense right now,” Twilight confessed to her friends.

“Dash won’t talk about the windigo.” Applejack’s eyes narrowed and her face crinkled with concern. “I’ve tried asking her about it, but she just goes quiet. I know it bothers her. Tarnish won’t talk about it either.”

“Applejack”—Twilight bit down upon her lip and thought about what she was about to say—“when they faced the windigo, there was no Hearthfire to burn it away.”

“You was there, wasn’t you? During your long walk back?”

“I was.” Twilight nodded and she hesitated over the words that would be said next. “It’s difficult to explain, but Tarnish is now the windigo. He had to draw it inside of himself… he gave it what it craved most of all… a warm body. It’s why Tarnish’s weather magics are so strong now. Using the magic of friendship, Tarnish bound the wind spirit to his will and merged with it.”

“Ooh.” Applejack’s lips formed a round ‘O’ of horror.

“Maud helps him out when the rage becomes too much. Sometimes, I do to.” Pinkie Pie tapped upon the edge of the table with her hoof. “I can’t imagine what its like…”

“Well, this explains why you don’t make Tarnish mad… suddenly, a lot of things make sense. Like why Daring Do is always lecturing him about his temper. It’s not just for his sake…” Tilting her head back, Applejack stared off at some nonexistent point on the ceiling.

“Some of us make extraordinary sacrifices,” Seville remarked.

Staring down at her half-eaten cottage cheese and peanut butter sandwich, Twilight tried to focus her thoughts. The windigo was gone—it truly was—but its magic lingered on. She could not help but think that this was somehow symbolic of her current problem; the legend of Hearth’s Warming was becoming just that: a legend. Yet, the magic remained. Somehow, she had to find a way to reignite those fires. As the Princess of Friendship, she had to find a way to bring the tribes together, again.

Of course, she had no idea how to accomplish such a monumental task, but she figured her bake-off idea was a good start. It was certainly better than doing nothing. Gizzards gurgling, Twilight had the most peculiar thought: a drink might be nice. Reaching out, she clutched at Seville’s fetlock and upon finding it, took it into her own. There was a certain reassurance to be had when holding him in this manner. At first, Twilight thought of it as a weakness, a silly, sentimental act. A mare needing a stallion for comfort and reassurance. It was something that she wrestled with for a time, until reaching a conclusion that it had nothing to do with gender, but friendship. Or perhaps something more.

“Sugar Sparkle is thinking of something. Most ponies would see fixing this as an impossible task. And maybe it is. But this mare right here”—Seville tugged on Twilight’s fetlock—“she’s already making plans, I just know it. Most ponies would be running scared from the sheer impossibility of it all. But not my Sugar Sparkle.”

“You know,” Pinkie remarked, butting in with a broad smile,” Sugar Sparkle is a great name for a filly…”

Author's Note

This hasn't been edited much. Another version might be uploaded later. We shall see.

Chapter 29

Twilight’s attention was held by a wood and brass trophy shaped like a wedding cake. Pinkie Pie had won best wedding cake in show. The sound of the air conditioning and the running water in the fountain muffled the other ambient sounds, such as the airship blasting past just outside the window. The Princess Suite was empty, save for Twilight, because she needed a bit of time to herself before heading back down stairs. She was in desperate need of another shower and a bit of breathing room—some time to collect her thoughts.

Pinkie was just getting started on her final baking project, and Twilight intended to be there for her—but she just needed a little bit of time alone. This bake-off had brought much to a head and Twilight’s own anxieties were getting the best of her. The pressure was growing and Twilight was a mare in need of release.

Biting her lip, Twilight stared at her distorted reflection in the brass. The problem with intimacy, as she saw it, was the complications. Decisions. All of the factors. But what if all of that was taken away? What if she passed off all of these complications to her potential partners? She thought about what Bundt had said, about being a natural sub, and these words lingered in Twilight’s mind, unwilling to depart.

Letting go would be hard, but surely the reward—the payoff—would be worth it. There was a certain appeal in just letting Seville take over… or Pinkie. It would mean trusting them; trusting them in complex, thought provoking ways. She would have to trust them to attend to her needs, and not just their own. Twilight had enough on her withers and her spine was bowed with the pressures of rule. Her neck ached with the weight of the crown. With her four sturdy legs, she carried a nation—no, the world—and compared to these things, intimacy decisions seemed so trivial. Being a good leader meant delegating certain tasks to others—and then letting go so they could do them.

A chance to turn off her brain and just have things happen.

Biting down upon her lip even harder, Twilight felt her thigh muscles go taut and her dock quivered while drawing her tail up into a suggestive—perhaps even saucy—flagged position. It would be like going to the spa and having Aloe and Lotus take charge, but better. Warmth blossomed through her guts; not the hot, painful heat of anxiety, but the toasty, pleasurable bliss of desire. After so much time spent in the clutches of anxious worry, this was as blissful as slowly slipping into a hot bubble bath.

Seville could be trusted, she decided. She could let him just take over—he could be prince of the bedroom. The decision maker. Depending on what mood struck him, they might conjoin belly to belly and she thought about feeling his reassuring solidness bearing down upon her. She could imagine his grunts of effort, hot snorts against her neck. Or she might be pinned beneath him on her belly, with him sprawled over her back… perhaps even biting her ear to show a little dominance. The feverish, titillating thought was breathtaking and arousing like nothing else. To have her needs looked after, to have a chance to turn off her brain.

Arousal spiked through Twilight’s nethers in a way that had never happened previously in her life. When she drew her hind legs together, trying to squeeze away the growing tension, there was a moist squish, almost like a hoof pressing into wet, runny mud. As a rule, Twilight avoided dealing with these situations of intense arousal; they were embarrassing and thinking of them caused her to cringe horribly. She thought about the night she shared a bed with Rainbow Dash—a drunken night in bed with Rainbow. After being rejected, she had done things in bed right beside her friend, shameful, horrid acts of self-pleasuring.

Rainbow Dash really was the best sort of friend…

But right now, she was stone-cold sober and just about to cause a puddle.

Twilight thought of the bathtub-shower and the floor-mounted water jets. Those were put there for hygienic purposes, obviously, but they had the most pleasing way of hitting just the right spots—for purposes of cleanliness. Eyes darting to and fro, Twilight realised those jets could be repurposed—for more perverse purposes. But what if somepony came in? Came up to the room? What if she was caught? The thought was more thrilling than she would ever admit; naughty beyond all reasoning.

The need could not be ignored however and Twilight had to do something about the raging inferno in her loins.

“Boy howdy, Twilight, you is a-smilin’ right now.”

Squirming, blushing, Twilight focused on Pinkie Pie, who was working down below. Quite a crowd had gathered around the baker and she had a following. Pinkie was one of the final survivors, but she had not cracked five-hundred, nor would she. Twilight wasn’t vain enough to realise that ponies were watching Pinkie Pie because she was watching Pinkie Pie.

“So tell me, Twi… were ya thinkin’ ‘bout Seville or Pinkie? Or both?”

Both, Twilight thought to herself while Applejack scooted closer and pressed up against her. She wondered how her friend knew and contemplated the idea that it had to be because she had some kind of as-of-yet unknown earth pony power that Twilight did not yet understand. In fact, naughty thoughts had just sort of happened, and Twilight had thought about a number of things that she dared not mention.

“Maple cayenne sweet tater pie.” Applejack made a gesture down at Pinkie Pie with her hoof. “Pinkie’s going for the bold finish. I’m not convinced it’s her best finisher, but it is a bold one.”

Applejack’s mercy was appreciated.

“Fifty-two, Twi. Fifty-two.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Thousands started out, Twi. I don’t recall the exact number. Right now, there is fifty-two left, of which Pinkie is one. Just getting to this point and standin’ among the survivors… that’s quite a feat, Twi. Even though she ain’t a big winner, Pinkie’s a-havin’ herself a strong finish. And you, as her friend, it’d be mighty nice of ya to do something nice-like in recognition of her struggle.”

“Oh. I suppose so.”

“That’s what we do, Twilight. Us earth ponies. We acknowledge each others’ struggle. By acknowledging the struggle of another, we validate one another's’ existence. It is the shared common experience of our kind and by being aware of it, by lookin’ another in the eye and telling them, ‘Good work!’ we keep one another’s spirits lifted and we find a way to keep goin’ when all hope is lost.”

“Oh?” With a turn of her head, Twilight looked into Applejack’s green eyes.

“And therein lies the worst sin of earth pony kind, Twi. The thing that makes us hate one another. What makes blood boil and turns us against ourselves. Forgetting what the struggle is… isolatin’ yerself from it. Insulatin’ yerself away from it and us, our shared, common experience. That’s why Blintz is a thundercunt, Twi. Not only has she done removed herself from our shared struggle, our common bond, but she exploits it, Twi… and that’s un-for-giv-able.”

Blinking, Twilight tried to take in everything that Applejack had said.

“Now, Twi… if’n you sit down with Pinkie and you recognise her struggle and you show her a little love for it… that mare is the type that will spend the rest of her life trying to show you a little gratitude for doing so. I suspect she keeps a list or something. It don’t take much to make her feel special, and nopony likes themselves a kiss-ass. It just needs to be something all endearing, sweet, and special.”

“I can do that,” said Twilight to her friend.

“I done figured you could.”

Blushing, but for different reasons, Twilight leaned against her sturdy friend and thought about everything that had been said. It was time to learn something new, to adjust to a newfound state of being. She had started as a unicorn and she had learned the unicorn way, because what else was there? In Canterlot, in Celestia’s school, she had been surrounded by unicorns, so there was but one point of view, one shared perspective.

Then came Ponyville, and looking back, Twilight saw how she learned how to be a pony from her friends. Not a unicorn—there was a distinction to be had—not anything. Just a pony. The shared, common experience as equines. Only with hindsight could she see the detrimental effect of her ivory tower upbringing; one unicorn among many, though ivory towers were not exclusive to unicorns.

The struggle to be a pony was a tough one. One became so used to being a unicorn that it was difficult to appreciate the ways of others, and even harder to just be a pony. So much filtering had to be done. Twilight couldn’t see it at the time, but she saw it now. She saw it now and with it, she saw hope for the future, because this was evidence that it could be done and that if she could do it, then so too, could others.

After gaining a thorough understanding of being a pony; after figuring out the nuts and bolts of friendship, Twilight had become a multi-tribal being, the living, breathing embodiment of the potential that the equine species had and everything it had to offer. She had become an alicorn. With this body, her experience as a pony came into fruition.

With the flight lessons came an understanding of being a pegasus. Twilight realised this was external discovery. She had wings, therefore, was compelled to understand everything about them. The years rolled by, so many years, and during this time, Twilight came to know and understand much of what it meant to be a pegasus. She had even found her inner bird, much to her own embarrassment, though there was something reassuring about her hidden inner nature.

Then came the Ink. Flung back in time, Twilight once again had to learn how to become something, only this took aeons. Mistakes had been made, and she had gone back to the beginning several times so that everything could be done right. From the past, she had made her way home during a long walk forward, shadowing many great and terrible events along the way. Through the most complicated trials of her life, she had become the Librarian of Souls and the Vessel of Ink.

But her discovery was not yet done. One final frontier awaited.

An internal frontier. Self discovery. It was time to embrace her earth pony aspects and to discover the very framework upon which all other external manifestations of tribe rested. Unicorns, it could be said, were creatures of mind, with their horns directly connected to their brains. Pegasus ponies were creatures of body, physical creatures, with their wings connected to their torsos, the protective housing for their guts, their biomechanical motors that powered their impressive physicality.

But earth ponies?

That was a journey inwards, towards regions unknown.

Baking a simple pie lacked the theatricality that creating a wedding cake had. Pinkie had simply whipped up the sweet potato mixture, poured it into a pie crust of her own making, and had put the pie into the oven. About an hour later, the pie was pulled out and now, the splendiferous autumnal-orange creation sat upon the counter to cool.

It was a pretty pie, made by a pretty Pie, but Twilight knew that she might be biased.

For the past hour or so, Applejack had given Twilight a heartfelt and earnest crash course on everything earth pony. These weren’t mere Applejackisms, no; Twilight could sense the truth, the integrity in every word spoken. Sure, they were said in a very Applejackian sort of way, that couldn’t be helped, but Twilight had the distinct feeling that every earth pony would tell her much the same in their own special way.

Nopony had a monopoly upon the truth and the same message could be told in different ways.

Wrapping a wing around her treasured friend, Twilight pulled her into a warm, intimate hug. Cheeks pressed together, necks touching, the sensation of Applejack’s beating heart close to her own, Twilight thought of all the times that Applejack had been there for her.

“Hey Jackie”—it felt weird to be so informal and Twilight felt strange—“how would you feel about being a bridesmaid?”

Author's Note

:trollestia: - Naughty.

:twilightblush: - ...

Chapter 30

“You know, Twi… I think I owe Sugar Belle an apology. A biggun.”

“Oh?” Twilight’s ears rotated and pricked so she could better hear Applejack’s near-whispered words.

“Now that I’m away from the situation and I’ve had a chance to think about it… yes.” The apple farmer sighed and her withers sagged. “That mare has done nothing but take one for the team. Over and over. Among other things. I couldn’t see it clearly ‘cause I was right in the middle of it all. Some things coulda been handled a bit better, methinks. I’ve been so busy keepin’ track of all the ways I fear things could be changing that I haven’t been grateful for the good way things have changed. Sugar Belle isn’t a bad sort… but she is a broken sort. She’s so eager for approval and acceptance. Like, she’s starved for even just a little bit of praise.”

“The ponies of Our Town have wounds, Applejack—”

“I know, I was there.” Applejack’s jaw muscles clenched tight. “When I praised her or said she did well, she’d burst into tears and cry about it. That was awkward, and made me feel all confused, so to avoid it, I stopped doin’ it. That has to change. When I get home, I’m gonna praise the ever-lovin’ shit right outta her, and then I’m gonna let her cry for a while. Just her and me. Until she gets it out of her system, like. I was thinking ‘bout what I said, Twi. ‘Bout recognising the struggle. I’d do it for a fellow earth pony, but not for Sugar Belle. What in Tartarus is wrong with me?”

Twilight almost said something, but stopped because she wasn’t sure what to say and a generic response felt wrong. Her friend was hurting, struggling, and Twilight felt bad that she had no words to comfort Applejack with. Several things came to mind, but not a one of them felt apropos or adequate. A response had to mean something, it had to connect in some way, otherwise it might feel patronising—or worse.

“My parents? They’s gone, Twilight. Have been for a mighty long time now. Granny Smith was laid to rest—it’s been a while now. My husband? He done walked out on me. In some ways, it’s worse than being dead. That sumbitch is alive and he just chooses to avoid me and his daughters. And here I am, on the cusp of having a big ol’ family again… and I ain’t doing diddly-fiddly-shit to hold us together. I damn sure ain’t keeping my girls under control. And poor Sugar Belle… she’s so eager to fit in… to belong... she’ll take whatever abuse comes with a smile. When I go home, it’s time for me to lay down the law of the land. It’s time for me to step up and act like the matriarch I was raised to be. But I don’t know how. It scares me, Twi. It scares me. I like being in charge, but I’m not so sure I like being in control.”

“I understand,” Twilight whispered to her friend. “I do… I really do. Being in charge just means bossing others around, but being in control means taking responsibility for everything around you. That was one of my hardest lessons as a princess… and if I can be completely honest about it, I am still learning all these years later. I can tell other ponies what to do, but I am also ultimately responsible for them and their lives if my commands harm them in some way. And that’s terrifying. It’s why I freeze up and fail to take decisive action. It’s easy to be bossy, but when there are consequences involved… very real consequences…” Her words trailed off into an anxious sigh.

“That makes me feel so much better to hear you say that, Twi.” Applejack breathed out these words and they were almost inaudible over the ambient noise that surrounded them. “That’s a load offa my back, it is.”

“I’ve been watching and observing,” Twilight continued, her voice low. “Octavia is in charge of the household, for the most part, but once there is a crisis, Tarnish is in control. He just steps in and takes command like it is the most natural thing ever. Lemon Hearts rules her house and her kitchen and her word is law. She’s clearly in charge. That is, until there is trouble, and then either Trixie or Twinkleshine take control, depending on the situation and the nature of said trouble. I’ve actually been observing the power dynamics in play for quite some time. I even make notes and I’ve organised my observations into a collection, so that I might learn from them.”

“Twilight… that’s just about the most eggheaded thing I’ve ever heard you say.” Then, in a low, breathy whisper, Applejack asked, “Can I borrow those notes sometime? Can I get a copy? Might be good to do a little outhouse readin’.”

Without realising that she was doing so, Twilight smiled. “Spike’s been busy collating them into a bound novel so it can be duplicated. Have I ever mentioned that Spike is growing into the finest bookbinder I know?”

“Only a few hunnert times or so,” Applejack replied in a drawl as thick as near-frozen molasses.

“It started off as a hobby. Now I’m starting to suspect that it is his calling. Dragons can have a calling, if they want to. Spike shows an almost preternatural level of skill. It’s almost as if he knows certain things instinctually, or in very much the same way a pony might when they have a cutie mark signifying a trade. Sorry. I’m babbling. But I’m very proud.”

“I can tell,” Applejack deadpanned.

A critical eye was turned upon the Pie, and then upon her creation. The celebrity judges all paused at once, sniffed, and each of them reacted in their way. Smiling, Pinkie Pie awaited for judgment of her pie, a beautiful specimen that evoked everything to do with autumn. The crowd collectively seemed to be holding its breath, and Twilight found that she was as well.

The wedding cake was every bit as beautiful as it was delicious, but the pie was… well, it was a pie. A very pretty pie with an eye-catching orange colour that caused Twilight to shiver in anticipation of a winter that was still a few seasons away, seeing as how it was spring at the moment. It was not as impressive as the wedding cake had been and Twilight—thinking of Pinkie’s first entry, the lemon zinger cake—worried.

“Sweet potato pie?” one of the judges asked, his tone rather dubious. “But not?”

“Maple cayenne sweet potato pie,” Pinkie Pie said through her unmoving, unwavering, unfaltering smile. “Sometimes I like to think of it as the cosy fires of autumn… you know, when the very first frost sets in and the evenings are cold. This is a pie very much like myself; it’ll keep you warm on a cold night. But if you take me to bed, I don’t leave crumbs behind. Except for when I do.”

The judges laughed; Gustave le Grande most of all.

“Sweet potato pies are typically a pale orange and I cannot help but notice that this pie is more of an orangish-red,” one of the judges said.

“Oh, that would be the cayenne,” Pinkie replied.

“Smells smokey. Did it burn?”

“I used smoked maple syrup.”

“Eez unique.” Gustave studied the pie in earnest and lowered his head down so he could be at eye-to-pie level. “Nothing eez burnt. Zee cruzt is uniformly golden brown.”

Arroz Amandine once again pulled out her trusty knife and with her fine-tuned telekinesis, she sliced free a slender wedge of pie, which she then plopped on a sampling plate. Her fellow judges crowded around and before anything could be said, she tried the first bite. It was only after she sighed in bliss that the others joined in, and also sampled the autumnal treat.

For the very first time, the judges did not swallow Pinkie’s delectable desserts, as they had previously. One allowed his bite to fall into a tiny paper cup, followed by another, and then a third. All three were visibly sweating and had red watery eyes. After Pinkie’s initial successes, this felt like disaster. Another judge spat out her sample into a tiny paper cup and then wiped her sweaty brow with her foreleg. The four judges who had spat out their food were now visibly panting, struggling to draw breath.

“There’s not enough spicy desserts in the world,” Arroz said after she swallowed her sample sliver. “Très magnifique!”

Perhaps surprised by Arroz’s Fancy outburst, Gustave turned his attention upon the most curious unicorn—the most lively celebrity personality other than himself. “Zí,” he said, his own Fancy accent overpowering the burro word. “Eztoy de acuerdo.”

“At least the burro-hater packed up and left,” one of the judges muttered.

As Twilight’s anxious worry peaked, the judges formed a tight huddle…

After what felt like hours of deliberation, but was more like a mere five minutes or so, the judges broke their hush-hush huddle. Gustave appeared conflicted—sad perhaps—and he took a moment to brush away some nonexistent lint from his chef’s whites. His eyes strayed from Pinkie to glance at his fellow judges for a time, and after a muffled sigh, he turned his attention to the bubbly pink baker, who smiled while awaiting the final judgment.

Just as he was about to say something, the words caught in his throat and he stood there with his beak hanging open, with one talon-finger raised and curled like a question mark. When he did not—perhaps could not—speak, he gestured at Arroz.

“We all agreed that your pie was delicious.” Arroz was quick to take over and her eyes were bright. “But for some of us… it was just too spicy. After some deliberation, we concluded that if it is too spicy for us, it is likely too spicy for others. We cannot deny its unique appeal, but it can only be enjoyed by a specialised palate. We acknowledge that the zestiness and heat are the main attraction, which, sadly, also limits its potential for widespread enjoyment.”

With a pained expression, Gustave le Grande reached into a pocket and pulled forth a blue chip.

“However, with all that said, even those of us who don’t like too much spice recognise that this is food artistry at its finest, and art shouldn’t always be approachable or understandable by the masses. Art should cause decisive reactions—which this pie did. Unless something truly extraordinary comes along before the day ends, I think you can be considered our best candidate for most artistic dish in show. We all agree this is special, even if it violates some of our personal tastes and causes some of us some discomfort.”

“Thank you.” Pinkie’s strained voice cracked. “Thank you so much, all of you.”

“The pleasure has been ours, Miss Pie.” Arroz bowed her head, and then her fellow judges did the same.

Head still low, Gustave le Grande placed the blue chip upon the counter.

Then, before anything else could be said, the judges hurried off in search of perfection.

A cannonball made of bright, hot pink curls and pastel pink fuzz arced through the air in an impossible parabola and Twilight Sparkle reared up on her hind legs while bracing herself for impact. The cannonball squealed, as the cannonball tended to do when excited, and the overall effect was like an incoming bomb that trailed confetti and streamers.

There was a meaty smack upon impact, and Twilight was struck with terrific force, the sort of force that only earth ponies and alicorns could survive without serious, life-threatening injury. In fact, Twilight was shocked by just how durable her body had become; complicated maths suggested the squealing, confetti and streamers streaming pink cannonball struck with crippling, bone-shattering, internal-organ-liquifying force. Twilight knew all too well that in a fight, Pinkie Pie was every bit as dangerous as her sister, Maud, and it was because of her immense solidity, her weapons-grade density backed by earth pony magics that controlled gravity and inertia.

Still standing on two legs, Twilight held Pinkie in her forelegs, and Pinkie, wasting no time, slipped her own forelegs around Twilight’s neck. A kiss followed; no mere peck, but a mouth open, hot, breathy kiss that caused a dangerous wobble in Twilight’s hind legs. Lightheaded, struggling to stand, a cheer resonated in Twilight’s ears while Pinkie Pie drenched every inch of Twilight’s muzzle with slobber.

Pulling away with a near-breathless pop, Pinkie Pie then said, “Tonight we celebrate, Twilight. I’m in the mood to boogie down! Tonight is going to be the biggest, bestest night, Twilight!” Then, the expression on the pink mare’s face changed, going from hyper-excited to something that was almost pensive, or perhaps hesitant. “Twilight, I’m sorry.”

“For what?” asked Twilight while she cradled Pinkie in her forelegs.

“I can’t tell you,” Pinkie whispered, “even though I want to tell you. I want to warn you, because I’m your friend. But I can’t tell you or warn you. I owe you one great big, super-duper huge apology though, and I promise I’ll spend the rest of my life making everything up to you. Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.” While speaking, she went through the motions, which ended with her jamming her hoof into her left eye.

“Okay…” Twilight’s brows furrowed while her ears stood up straight.

“We need to have a good supper, because we can’t do what we’re about to do on an empty stomach!”

Author's Note

Hang on...

Chapter 31

Even with all of the trouble and strife—or perhaps because of the trouble and strife—there was a festive, cheerful mood as the bake-off drew near its end. Ponies were celebrating—even though the end was here in more ways than one—ponies found a reason to boogie down and get their groove on. There was a powerful sense of accomplishment in the air and even Twilight felt it. How could she not? It was by her own actions and intervention that this bake-off continued. And it felt good.

The staff in the command center were throwing a wrap party; there would be singing and the executive boardroom had been turned into an impromptu discotheque with a sound system and some lights. Manes were being let down, inhibitions were being cast aside, and catered food was being set out. This would be a night to remember.

And Twilight, after having endured so much, planned to partake.

With the sanguine expression of a chipmunk at peace with the world, Twilight savoured her slice of maple cayenne sweet potato pie. Her cheeks bulged a bit and she certainly didn’t look very princessly right now, but there were all manner of sweets to be eaten. The pie was beyond spicy, it was a sweet potato inferno with the smokey sweetness of smoked maple syrup. With the first bite, the Running of the Leaves came to mind. Autumn. The scent of burning leaf piles. It was a pie that captured a mood, a time, and a place. It wasn’t just a treat, it was an experience.

It was utterly amazing and worth being set ablaze.

“Sapphire Shores has been delayed, but will be arriving at midnight,” a deadpan voice announced over the public address system. “Welcoming committee, please, adjust your schedules accordingly.”

“Sorry, babies, but Mama wants spicy pie.” Then, without further ado, Bundt Buttercream crammed an entire wedge of pie in her maw. With much lip-smacking and pleasurable little squeals, she devoured the fiery treat. Midway through chewing, her eyes turned red, glazed over with tears, and her nose began to run. “Hooooo!”

“Goose and I dare one another to see who can eat the hottest curries.” Seville took but a moment to examine his piece of pie, and then bit off a third of it in one chomp. With a thoughtful expression, he chewed for a time, swallowed, and then turned to look at Pinkie. “When you fix this for us, Pinks, more cayenne.”

Pinkie, having already eaten a slice of her own pie, chomped into a slice of green tomato pie. At first, she had no reaction, but then something twinkled in her blue eyes and her head began to nod. She took another bite, then another, and it was clear that Pinkie was deep in thought. Twilight wondered what she was thinking.

Then, without warning, Seville pulled Pinkie in for a tender but enthusiastic smooch. Twilight’s heart began to pitter-patter, and her breath caught in her throat while her emotions gushed in response. Pinkie seemed touched by the affection, not so much aroused as emotional, and Twilight watched while the pair of them stared into one another’s eyes.

“Congrats, Pinks. You done did good. You were the best Pie in the show.”

“I heard that capitalisation,” Pinkie replied in an anxious voice while her smile broadened. “I like it when you congratulate me, Seville. It makes my heart all buttery-fluttery. You only say nice stuff when it’s actually deserved, so when you have something nice to say, it means an awful lot coming from you.”

Another kiss was exchanged, a brief peck this time, and Seville returned to eating what was left of his pie. Twilight edged closer, sidestepped, and drew closer still. She nickered, and was nickered at in return by her companions. A deep rumbling nicker came from Seville, while Pinkie’s was a bit shrill and held notes of curious excitement. Ears pricked and then rotated to face different directions while the trio made sociable equine noises that weren’t necessarily words. With a great many wickery-nickers, more pie was devoured.

Supper was served on a desk, which somepony had thoughtfully covered in a table cloth and placed candles on. The catered food was burro-themed, as was popular in Las Pegasus, and there were plenty of baked goods to be had. Music was playing and the sound of ponies celebrating provided a wonderful background ambiance. It was perfect, for just the three of them.

Seeking a change of pace, Twilight ate her food burro-style. That is to say, she did not scoop her beans, rice, and vegetables into a piece of pillowy flatbread. No, she had laid out the flatbread upon her plate, piled it high with toppings, drenched it in salsa, guacamole, added sour cream, and then added even more cheese, because why not?

“Seville, why is it that you can’t be honest about what you want?” asked Pinkie, right out of the blue. She had a smear of sour cream and green, lumpy guacamole on her nose.

Caught off guard, Seville sat chewing his food while looking confused.

“You act different when Twilight is around,” Pinkie Pie continued, ignoring her messy snoot. “When it is just us, you show a different side. But when Twilight is around, you’re a perfect gentlepony. Is it because she’s a princess? If that’s the case, you need to learn to relax.”

“I… uh… well, I… you see…” Seville stammered his way through the beginning of a sentence but couldn’t spit it out.

“Once upon a time, I was the most innocent of ponies.” Pinkie Pie heaved a sigh while rolling her eyes. “I made the most terribad innuendos and destroyed a couple of family meals at the table because I was so incredibly thick-headed. I had super-duper bad sexual urges that I repressed and squished down and refused to acknowledge and I became downright obnoxiously dense. Like, perverted stuff could be said and it would fly right over my head because of what I’d done to myself. But then Rainbow Dash got me to be honest with myself, my wants, needs, and desires. She showed me the Path of Awesome.”

“Path of Awesome?” Seville asked.

“Stop trying to change the subject.” Pinkie Pie leaned in closer to Seville, and then licked her snoot clean. “Once I started looking after my own needs, I wasn’t such a spaz, you know? I didn’t have all that insane, crazy energy that an earth pony has when they’re completely and totally cut off from their sexual natures. I did a lot of self exploration, if you get my drift.”

Somehow, Twilight continued to eat her food, even with the sensation of imminent combustion that left her hot and sweaty from hoof to ear.

“With me, Seville, you say dirty stuff. Perverted stuff. You tell me dirty jokes and they’re great. But Twilight… you treat Twilight like she’s a princess. What I’m trying to say is, she doesn’t know you in the same way I know you, because you show her a completely different side.”

Ears drooping, Seville chomped a huge bite of food so he wouldn’t have to talk with his mouth full.

“Twilight… this is a pony that once told me that when he got done loving me, his muzzle was going to look like he’d just eaten a baker’s dozen box of extra-glazed donuts. I laughed so hard that I got side stitches, because what an image. And true enough, he was glazed up to his ears.”

Upon hearing this, Twilight almost choked and Seville did the same.

“We’re past the point of being respectful,” Pinkie Pie said in a low voice. “We fart in the bed with one another—”

“No I don’t!” Twilight somehow managed to voice her protest around a mouthful of food.

“Twilight… what do you think happens once you fall asleep? Seville… Seville, he snores. He’s a light snorer, but he snores. It’s not bad. A husband that snores is not the worst thing in the world. Overall, Seville is a fine catch. But you… Twilight… you play the tushy tuba all night long. Everything that you hold in in a desperate attempt to be polite, you let out when you’re sleeping. Seville and I suffer for your prolonged silences.”

Twilight shook her head in denial. “No—”

“Yes.” Seville nodded his head. “It’s like sleeping with a foghorn—”

“No!” said Twilight again, this time with a good deal more emphasis.

“Twilight,” Pinkie began, while leaning over in Twilight’s direction, “do you ever wonder how your blankets end up on the floor when you sleep?”

“I don’t see how that has anything to do with anything.” Eyes narrowing, Twilight let out a contemptuous snort. “I probably kick them off because I get hot—”

“No, Twilight, you don’t kick a blanket off across the room. They go flying off and the hot air gives them lift.” Reaching out, Pinkie Pie patted Twilight to comfort her. “Seville and I argue over who is going to be the one to get out of the bed and fetch the blanket. The floor is so cold on the hoofsies after being in such a warm bed.”

Horrified, Twilight’s expression went blank and her ears sagged like deflating party balloons.

While Twilight sat frozen in horrified shock, Seville muttered, “It’s true. We bicker while you provide dramatic accompaniment with your tuba blasts. I keep telling Pinkie it’s not the horn on your head that we need to be worried about.”

At this, both Pinkie Pie and Seville began snickering while Twilight remained aghast.

“Sometimes, Pinkie squeezes you while you sleep, trying to play you like a musical instrument. You know how she is. One night, she got off something like a polka.” A daring smirk appeared upon Seville’s muzzle and he dared to look Twilight in the eye.

“If we’re going to be married, nothing should be off-limits.” Pinkie Pie wiped her eyes with her foreleg, then reached over and patted Twilight on the cheek. “This is advice that I got from my very bestest sister, Maud. Nothing should be held back. Ever. For any reason.”

This struck Twilight as being particularly important, and her own mother had said the exact same thing—only without the mortifying examples that had been brought up by Pinkie and Seville. Twilight’s mother had said, with a great deal of emphasis, that hang ups in marriage brought about divorce, or worse, ponies who stayed together but held contempt for one another.

Pinkie was right.

Making a snap decision, Twilight plowed right into the danger, facing it the only way she knew how: by being overwhelmed with it. “Seville, I need you to be honest with me. When you think of me, what do you fantasise about?” With a hot blush, she thought about her own fantasies earlier.

“Are we doing this?” Seville whispered while his eyes darted in Pinkie Pie’s direction.

In response, Pinkie replied, “No holding back.”

“I want to watch you and Pinkie making out.” Seville’s ears pricked with interest. “Luna torments my dreams with it. She teases me about it. Something about the colours… pink and lavender together. Especially the pink parts, the pink parts most of all…” His words trailed off and then he licked his lips clean of sour cream and guacamole.

Twilight’s own pink parts twitched and she became acutely aware of what she was sitting on.

“After watching the two of you grind together for a while, I want to join you. While you’re still grinding. I want to slip between the both of you and then just allow the grinding to happen with me in the middle. And you have to be kissing. Yes, with the kissing. It’s the hottest thing I can think of.”

“Well”—Twilight paused and chose her next words carefully—“that’s educational and just so happens to be a revealing look into your desires. It offers some insight as to how we, uh, us, um, it offers some insight as to how the three of us might engage in marital congress with one another, as a group endeavour to seek out pleasurable ends.”

“Twilight, there are times when I think you need a translator,” Pinkie deadpanned in the manner of her sister, Maud.

Rather than argue, Twilight nodded.

“Sometimes I daydream about being trussed up and served for supper. And I have an apple in my mouth and you two nip me. Not real bites, mind you, not the hurty kind of bites, but the make-me-squirty kind of bites. Love nibbles. All over. And the apple is important because I don’t want to be able to tell you to stop. After you’ve sampled my seven courses, you tell each other how sweet and tender and delicious I am, and how I’m the pinkest, most delicious Pie.”

Twilight and Seville exchanged a heated, sweaty glance, and Seville’s eyebrow arched.

Turning away from Seville, Twilight stared down at her food while trying to swallow the lump in her throat. Pinkie… was kinky. Cadance had tried to say something once, but Twilight had been too embarrassed to listen. She thought of her own experience in the shower not all that long ago. Closing her eyes, Twilight decided to bare her soul.

“Earlier, I masturbated in the shower. The entire time, I thought about being dominated by the both of you. I didn’t want to make decisions, or choices, or have to think about anything. I wanted the decisions and the choices to be made for me. I let everything go and I was passive. I thought about how much I trusted the both of you to look after me and my needs, and the more I thought about that, the more arousal I experienced. To just be…”—after a pause, she gulped—“sexually pampered and attended to in such a way that I can just stop being… me.”

Cringing, Twilight opened her eyes.

Seville and Pinkie were both looking at her; no judgment could be seen upon their faces, no ridicule. The sum of Twilight’s many fears failed to manifest and after several anxious seconds where she found it hard to breathe, relief struck her like a runaway wagon. Pinkie was actually solemn and not even the ghost of a smile could be seen on her muzzle. Seville appeared thoughtful, but that was the natural state of his face when he wasn’t making other expressions.

“That makes sense.” Reaching out, Seville grabbed Twilight’s fetlock and held it in his own. “Celestia has shutdown days… days when her endurance has reached its realistic end. Rather than force herself to keep going, as she used to do, back during the dark days when she was all by her lonesome, she calls for a shutdown day. And on that day, she’s pampered and her every conceivable need is attended to. When it’s all said and done, she’s super-productive for several days, but then it starts to taper off again.”

“Oh my stars”—Twilight inhaled so hard she almost choked—“you have no idea how relieved I am to hear that. Thank you.”

“Speaking rationally, I suspect that Goose looks after her special needs in the bedroom. I can’t say for certain. There are things that we don’t actually talk about. Well, he and I, that is. Celestia… if the topic is brought up, will talk about it to anypony that will listen. I guess when you’re that old, you have no fronks to give. She’s changed, Celestia.”

Twilight felt Seville squeeze her fetlock and so she squeezed him back.

Pulling his hoof away, Seville shivered. “I once walked in on a conversation between her and Blueblood. I heard things that day that no mortal pony should hear. She and the Blue Bastard were talking about it over tea as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I tried to escape, but she dragged me in and sat me down. Then we discussed socio-economic reform and my duties to inform the public. The entire time, I could not look either of them in the eye.”

Unable to resist, Twilight had to know. She had to ask. “What, uh, where they discussing?”

In response, Seville turned a thousand-yard stare upon her.

“I bet I know…” Pinkie giggled, a wicked sound, and squirmed in her folding metal chair.

Seville—his breathing shallow, almost nonexistent—said nothing.

Reaching out Twilight gripped Pinkie’s fetlock and with a squeeze, implored her to spill the proverbial beans. Pinkie was giggling, her blue eyes twinkled with mischief, and for the very first time, Twilight knew and understood that the pink one was the adventurous sexual deviant in their trio.

“I don’t want it done to me, but I wouldn’t mind watching Pinks doing it to you, Sugar Sparkle.”

With these words spoken, Pinkie was practically vibrating in her chair. Twilight’s curious nature demanded to know what this curious sexual act might be and she wondered if it involved food, or rope, or perhaps heavy construction equipment. Pinkie had progressed beyond giggling, and was laughing now, laughing almost fit to split.

“Tell me… I want to know. Perhaps we can discuss doing it, so Seville, could, uh, watch.”

An excited squeal slipped from Pinkie, who was overcome with excitement by Twilight’s words. She gripped Twilight’s fetlock, gave it a mighty squeeze, and in a singsong voice she said, “My foalhole is pink, my panties are frilly. Me and my strapon, we’re gonna fronk you so silly!”

Author's Note

Next chapter: Berserker's Blood.

Chapter 32

Love was dangerously intoxicating. Or perhaps it wasn’t love that left Twilight Sparkle lightheaded; perhaps it was the relief of letting go. During a simple conversation over a candlelit, romantic supper, so much had been said; so much had been accomplished. Twilight felt that she had done as Applejack had said to do—she had said to let go and so Twilight did. The change was immediate and strange. All of her hangups didn’t feel as though they were impossible to overcome. What had once been insurmountable obstacles were now funny things to laugh at.

It felt as though more progress had been made in about a half-an-hour than had previously been made over the full course of their relationship. All of the things that Twilight dreaded, everything she feared, the minutiae that had caused her such anxiousness; all gone, and replaced by a restorative catharsis.

The entirety of the bake-off had been a trying experience, and as for the conclusions that she had reached—they were uncomfortable, if not downright unsettling. Some truths were unbearable, unwanted, and upon discovering them, there would be no going back to the state of being one had pre-truth. A bell could not be unrung. The Equestria that had formed because of the miracle of Hearthfire, the nation birthed from Hearth’s Warming—it had died with the Founders. It could only survive for as long as they did. Everything that came after was an imitation, an attempt to take everything new and frame it somehow so it fit with the Founder’s ideals.

With every generation that had passed, with every immigrant that had arrived upon the shores, with every demagogue that rose to power and attempted to thwart or somehow usurp Princess Celestia’s rule, Equestria changed. What had started with a confederation of three tribes changed with the meeting of the First Tribes. What clash of ideals had taken place? The confederation of the three tribes had not even lasted a generation before it was struck down and replaced with a unified kingdom. Had the Founder’s original vision died then, at that moment?

That unified kingdom eventually grew too large and fractured into fiefdoms. These grew corrupt and Equestria, an actual nation at long last, very nearly tore itself asunder. Then came the reform and the feudalistic contracts that changed the entire world. Equestrian Feudalism and the Covenant of the Three Tribes, as it came to be known, sent ripples around the world. The Darks and Twilight Sparkle’s own ancestors were the authors of this mighty, world-changing contract—the reformers that brought light back to the world after the lights almost went out.

But this was not the Equestria of the Founders.

Yet again, as it had in the past, progress had come to a standstill; whatever came next would be Twilight Sparkle’s Equestria, and not the Founders.

“Times have changed… and we've often rewound the clock, since the Tribalists got a shock... when they founded Canterhorn Rock. If today... any shock they should try to stem, 'stead of landing on Canterhorn Rock, Canterhorn Rock would land on them! In olden days, a glimpse of preening was looked on as something demeaning, but now, Celestia knows... anything goes!”

The blaring, brassy horns blended with the sounds of laughter and filled Twilight with a carefree lightness. Why, she almost felt like dancing. Bundt Buttercream was dancing—sort of—with Applejack and everypony was having an excellent time. The scent of beer and cider was in the air—the fragrances of a working-class party for whom wine and champagne was just too fancy and expensive.

This was not at all like the parties Twilight was used to. Ponies were making out right in the open. Dirty jokes were being told. The porn industry ponies told the dirtiest, cringiest jokes one might imagine—and Twilight found herself laughing at some of them. Some of the celebrity chefs had joined them and the chefs, almost all of them, were the life of the party.

When a beer keg was rolled past by a burly earth pony that Twilight had seen operating a camera earlier, she blinked a few times when she realised that the contents of the keg would be emptied tonight. By morning, the keg would be dry. It seemed excessive, but also somehow necessary. This was an end, but Twilight already had plans for something to take its place. A new bake-off, for all three tribes. Separate but equal.

“I’m baaaaaack!”

Somewhat spooked, Twilight wasn’t even aware that Pinkie had left. Before she could react, before she could say anything, she was pulled along by Pinkie. There was no point in resisting, she wanted to be led along by Pinkie. Why, if Pinkie was to pull Twilight upstairs right now, not even token resistance would be offered. When Twilight was shoved into a corduroy upholstered executive swivel chair, she decided it was best to just go along with whatever was about to happen.

Applejack sat down, as did Seville, and Pinkie too. Once seated, Pinkie pulled an earthenware bottle from her mane—a mysterious, curious trick indeed—and then also somehow conjured up four earthenware drinking cups. How Pinkie did this was still unknown and thus far, all of Twilight’s attempts to investigate the phenomenon had ended in grievous bodily harm. Magic—whatever it was—did not like to be studied or observed, and actively worked to obfuscate itself during intense scrutiny. Thaumatons, it seemed, were naturally shy—Fluttershy shy.

“Berserker’s Blood,” Pinkie Pie began. “The legendary liquor. This has been brewed by Princess Celestia herself and she made this batch well over one-hundred years ago. It starts off with cherry mead, and that is frozen. Then, the ice is pulled out, and it is frozen again, and more ice is pulled out. When the mead will no longer freeze, botanicals are added. Secret ingredients. This concoction allowed primitive ponies to survive. After the most awful of battles, Berserker’s Blood was poured into wounds. Blood was added for all the blood lost. And without realising it, the primitives of ponykind cleaned up their most terrible boo-boos and fought infection.”

Twilight sensed magic coming from the bottle, and not a little bit of magic either.

“A war is starting,” Pinkie Pie continued while making dramatic motions with her forelegs. “This war won’t be like the others, and it won’t be like the war we’re already fighting. Twilight Sparkle will be our champion and in our stead, she will battle unseen, invisible evils. We earth ponies have an ancient tradition… an ancient obligation. We make booze; it is one of the many things we’re good at. We have a magical knack for it. It’s what Applejack was born to do—”

“That’s true,” Applejack interjected with a nod. “It’s my namesake.”

Undaunted, Pinkie Pie plowed onwards. “Before sending our champion into battle, before we send a pegasus or a unicorn off to fight in our stead, to fight the battles we can’t fight for ourselves, we get them liquored up! We show our appreciation and our gratitude! And sometimes we bed them, to show them what else us earth ponies are good at, and to remind them what they are fighting for. Princess Celestia gave me orders… I was to rouse Twilight Sparkle from her depressive funk and get her prepared for battle. Now, we drink.”

“Not sure if’n I’m up for that beddin’ part.” Applejack’s eyes darted around. “I mean, if I drink enough, I suppose I’m up for anything.” Shrugging, the apple farmer added, “Eh, whatever happens, happens, I reckon. Some snatch might be on the menu tonight.”

With a few deft movements of her sturdy surely-magical hoofsies, Pinkie manipulated the metal framework that held the stopper in place on the bottle. Glittery pinkish smoke wafted up from the now-open container and the scent of springtime filled the air. Something about the sweet aroma caused parts of Twilight to go rock hard while her mouth went bone dry. Holding the bottle in her fetlock, Pinkie poured some of the mead into the earthenware cups grouped together.

“To my very bestest friend,” said Pinkie while putting down the bottle and picking up a cup. Then, before Twilight could respond, the pink mare smooched her on the cheek.

As the others picked up their cups, so too did Twilight. Already, her senses were overwhelmed. The magic coming from the potent drink was primal, raw, and made Twilight feel giddy. Twilight held the earthenware cup in her fetlocks, just as her companions did, and she could feel the strange magic interacting with the dormant earth of the cup. It was almost as if there was some awakening, not just in the cup, but also within herself.

For a second, it almost seemed as if Twilight could feel the hum of the repurposed mineral structures around her. It was like hearing a distant song, but only for the faintest moment. Twilight peered into her cup and into the depths of the reddish-pinkish liquid. There was nothing in there, of course there wasn’t, but when she blinked and opened her eyes, she saw the reflection of her paper self within, gazing upwards.

The smirking paper pony winked her inky eye once and then was gone.

“Applejack, among the earth ponies present, you are the matriarch.” Seville gave the apple farmer a solemn nod. He raised his cup in something that was almost a salute. “First drink goes to you. I’m no patriarch. I don’t have foals yet.”

“Yes!” Pinkie almost squealed out the lone word.

“It falls on me, I reckon.” Applejack seemed hesitant. “This is what I’ve been afraid of all along. Granny Smith was a better matriarch and at times, I feel like a poor imitation. Time for me to get to work.” Then, grimacing, she raised her cup to her lips and guzzled down the contents.

When Pinkie and Seville went to drink, Twilight followed their example. The mead had a gentle fizziness that wasn’t quite fizzy. It was sticky, thick on the tongue, and burned like nothing else that Twilight had experienced. The lightheadedness struck her right away and while her throat burned with a delicate inferno, so too did her nethers ignite.

Shudders wracked Twilight’s body, which now felt like a bowling alley full of ricocheting bowling balls. Her spine kinked, unkinked, rekinked, and she felt her duodenum spasming in much the same way it did when she had the horrendous hiccaburps. The mead was sticky, clung to the throat, and the burning intensified with each passing second. With the burning came pressure—the hiccup sensation—and she was certain that her eyes would pop from their sockets at any moment now.

“Nyah!” Twilight whined while her head whipped from side to side.

Still shuddering, she set down her cup on the table with a thump.

There was a sound like a soap bubble popping, and a long ribbon of chaos sprang into existence with a bored yawn. Discord hovered in the air beside Applejack’s head, and he turned his gaze of casual disinterest upon the drinking foursome. Then, he looked at the bottle, clucked his tongue, and made a dismissive wave at Twilight Sparkle.

“I sensed the most dreadful chaos a moment ago,” he said while he took a moment to adjust Applejack’s hat. It was a kind, almost affectionate gesture. “Not just any chaos, mind you. This was Tarnish and Maud finding some fresh new long-forgotten horror left in a vault and he’s pulling out his sword to cut it in half while the stony one gives him one of her special pep-talks that would put most ponies to sleep. This was Dim at his very Darkest telling the Midreach that he’s had some brilliant ideas on how to revolutionise warfare that he’d like to share with them… and then the atrocities poured forth like water when he did, in fact, share his ideas with them. Sharing is most certainly not caring!”

“Hey!” Twilight fought back against her troublesome duodenum and clutched her stomach with one hoof. “I was present when Dim did that… when he did the thing—you know what, it doesn’t matter what he did. Kommissar Dim was pardoned for the… uh… events that took place when he introduced the world to his new philosophy of war.”

“Of course he was pardoned,” replied Discord while offering up a bored eye-roll. “And who could possibly challenge Princess Luna’s pardon? Who would dare? How neatly it was all swept beneath the rug. Dim was able to do the most dreadful things, and he did so without consequences.”

“I seem to recall that you too, received a pardon.” Seville, fearless, glared up at Discord.

“Yes, but I’ve changed… and Dim… well, Dim hasn’t. If the right circumstances presented themselves, Dim would gleefully distribute his special brand of atrocities for his beloved Empress.” Discord made a dismissive shrug. Extending his paw, he booped Twilight on the nose. “Featherweight drinkers shouldn’t go imbibing magical mead, Princess. Celestia put a lot more than just bee vomit in that hooch.”

Seville did not let the issue drop. “You know, I don’t think you’ve changed much either—”

“Of course I have.” Discord chuckled while rolling over in the air so he could turn his lunatic gaze upon Seville.

“Chrysalis disagrees.”

Both Discord’s talons and his paw balled into trembling fists. Every hair on Discord’s body stood on end and his tail went ramrod straight. Curls of smoke rose from his ears and raw magical energy crackled along his scaly parts. “Speak not of her!”

“How many times has Princess Celestia formally requested that you undo… whatever it was you did to her? And how many times have you refused? For all of your supposed goodness and your many decrees that you live to do right, contrary evidence exists in the bowels of Canterlot Castle.”

“SHE HURT MY FRIEND!” Discord wailed while tugging and clawing at his own body.

For the first time, Twilight noticed that the party had gone silent.

“Dim’s friends got hurt too. None of us have a right to judge him. None of us can say what we might do if we had been in his situation. He did what was necessary and I will not sit here and listen to you mock him or ridicule him.” Tilting his head back, Seville squinted down his muzzle at the hovering draconequus with disgusted contempt.

“But Sumac was little. And helpless. It’s not Sumac’s fault that he is the way he is, just like it’s not my fault that I am the way I am. She hurt him.” Discord writhed in the air, his body tensing, kinking up, and twisting into downright gordian knots. “I hate that creature like nothing else in existence. I hate that I know what hate feels like. I hate that she introduced me to hatred. Oh, the hateful loathing I feel for her! I was perfectly fine not knowing what hate was!”

Then, without another word, Discord vanished, or perhaps imploded.

“Seville…” Lifting the bottle, Pinkie turned to look at her companion. “You shouldn’t be mean. Poor Discord… he’s sensitive about all of that. Fluttershy is still trying to teach him emotions. What you just did was pick on a crippled creature—”

“I did not.” Seville shook his head while blasting out his contempt in a snort.

“Yes. Yes, you did. Discord is a mental cripple. He’s struggling to develop emotions. Don’t be mean, Seville… I won’t stand for it.” Pinkie poured more mead into the cups on the table. Lifting her head, she looked around, smiled, and as if by magic, the party revived. Music began to play again. Ponies began to laugh once more. Raising the bottle in salute, she added, “Drink up. We’ll drink to Discord, he struggles to come to terms with the fact that he might lose his friends in any number of horrible ways.”

“Poor guy, he’s gone off to sulk. No doubt, he’s a cushion on Fluttershy’s sofa again. It’s terrible when he gets like this. It’s even worse when the cushion becomes mysteriously wet.” Applejack lifted her glass, raised it in a toast, and waited for her companions to do the same. “To the poor draconequus that turns himself into a pillow so nopony can see him cry.”

Twilight decided that she could drink to that. Raising her glass, she said, “To Discord.”

Grunting, a grudging expression on his face, Seville too raised his glass, but said nothing. Not a thing. A sour expression lingered on his face for a time, a sour Orange expression, but this softened to the point of near-sadness.

When Pinkie raised her own glass to join the toast, they drank.

Twilight’s reaction to the Berserker’s Blood was no less violent than the first time. It seared her throat, set her sinuses ablaze, and her alicorn gizzards made a terrific escape attempt in a vain effort to avoid the cruel liquid. A pleasurable lightheadedness overcame her and dulled her senses. For a moment, she pitied Discord, and wondered what made him drop in—but only for a moment. Then, the second drink hit her like a train and she could no longer be sure what she was thinking, or if she was thinking at all.

No, she decided, she was sick of thinking, and it was time to dance. But first, more drinking was necessary. She had to murder all of her inner dialogues, all of the parts of her that just wouldn’t shut up and let her have a good time. They all had to go, and she planned to drown them in a flood of alcohol. Every inhibition had to go—and should her mother’s voice make itself known inside of her noggin, that would have to be put down as well.

“Woo!” Twilight wooed, and then, for good measure, she woo-wooed out the woo-wooian battlecry, “Woo-woo!” Feeling fine and princessly, she slammed her earthenware cup down upon the table. “Drink me!”

“Oh, of course, Your Majesty.” A sly grin spread over Pinkie’s muzzle as she got to work filling Twilight’s cup. The pink mare elbowed the apple farmer in the ribs and in a low voice, whispered something that Twilight could not hear.

Seville, still subdued, raised his just-filled glass and waited.

Pulling away from Pinkie Pie, Applejack shook her head, snorted, and muttered, “Tarnation, somepony is waking up with a tender asshole tomorrow morning, I just know it. It better not be me. Last one for me, thanks.”

“The mead is gone,” Pinkie announced while she raised her cup. “The last has been poured out.” Just as she was about to say something, Seville interrupted.

“Here’s to our heroes and all of their faults. Twilight, you’re one of my heroes.” Seville raised his glass in salute.

“Here’s to hero worship.” Pinkie clinked her cup against Seville’s, but not a drop was spilt.

Twilight drank again, and this time, it wasn’t so bad. It was far from easy, but whatever resistance existed within was certainly drowning. She felt warm all over, in the very best sort of way. All of her inner dialogues were being rounded up for their summary executions in the drowning pools. Peering into her empty earthenware cup, she felt a terrible, overwhelming disappointment that threatened to kill her mead-fueled buzz.

Twilight looked at her friends, who were all strangely fuzzy and had rather indistinct outlines, as if they had been poorly drawn with a crayon by an over-caffeinated foal. “We need more liquor.”

“Eeyup, sore asshole come morning. It better not be mine.” Reaching up, Applejack took off her hat and then rubbed her temple.

“Seville… Pinkie… Applejack… I love all of you so much.” Twilight felt her warm emotions runneth over, and she could not help but gush. “Like, I really, really love you. More than words can say. I love all of my friends. I love everypony and everything. I want to go talk to strangers and natter on incessantly about inconsequential conversation topics.”

“Oh… I think it’s working!”

“What’s working, Pinkie… you’d better tell me… I’m a Princess.” Twilight watched as Pinkie—who suffered nervous distress—chewed on her bottom lip, and thought she was rather cute.

“Princess Celestia and Zecora worked on a potion that turns introverts into extroverts and Princess Celestia tested the potion on herself and became an unstoppable chatterbox for a day and almost talked everyponys’ ears off.”

Twilight’s sense of alarm was currently being held face-down in a drowning pool. “Oh.”

“That potion got mixed with the Berserker’s Blood.”

“Oh,” said Twilight again while a sense of wooziness overcame her. “You know what, forget I asked. We need more liquor… and then I wanna dance. With my friends. The ponies that I love. And then maybe I’ll talk to strangers and tell them oddly specific details about my life that no sane pony should ever share, because that sounds like fun.”

“Wait, I drank that potion—”

“Took ya long enough, Seville.”

“Up yours, Jackie.”

“Given the way we’re drinkin’ that’s a distinct possibility.”

“I feel funny. Like I want to blab about meaningless drivel with strangers.”

“Me too!” When Twilight went to clutch Seville, she almost fell out of her chair. “I have the strange urge to talk about how I contributed to Flurry’s potty training and how I sang the poo song and eventually, we sang the poo song together! My mother taught me the poo song.”

“I can’t take you seriously when you keep saying ‘poo,’ Twilight.”

“We haven’t watched each other poop yet,” said Twilight, stating the obvious. “That’s a major relationship hurdle. I’ve seen Pinkie poop.”

“So have I.”

“Seville… we have something momentous in common!”

“Applejack… I’ve done a bad thing, haven’t I?”

“You have, Pinkie, and we’ll be lucky if we survive it.”

“Seville… Seville… Seville… now that we’re being open and honest, have you… have you checked me out back there?” Twilight slipped her forelegs around Seville’s neck and then blew a thunderous belch into his ear.

“I, uh—”

“It’s okay, because I’ve checked out your oranges!”

Hearing Twilight’s admission caused Applejack to roll her eyes.

“You have seven freckles that you keep hidden.” Seville’s face darkened and wicked grin spread across his muzzle. “You know, I don’t feel bad confessing that.”

“How did you know?” Twilight asked. “You had to be really checking me out to know that. I keep my butthole freckles hidden. Butthole freckles are embarrassing.”

“Pinkie Pie sent me a picture. A very detailed close-up picture.”

Both Twilight and Seville turned to look at Pinkie, and the notorious pink pronker squirmed in her chair. When both Twilight and Seville were overcome with the giggles, Pinkie relaxed a bit, and then even joined them for a laugh while Applejack continued to rub her temple.

“Those freckles really aren’t on your butthole.” Pinkie scratched the side of her neck with her hoof while looking thoughtful. “They’re just sort scattered around that general area. I first noticed them when I was still making a detailed pony profile of you. Important details that a changeling might miss when they copy a pony. Somehow, they’ve managed to fool my Pinkie Sense a few times.”

“That’s… impressive.” Twilight blinked in near-inebriated astonishment and continued to paw Seville. “I think I’m feeling lightheaded. Where’s Discord? He was going to warn me about chaos.”

“It’s not too late, Twilight.” Pinkie Pie covered her mouth with her front hooves and her next words were somewhat muffled. “If you cast a big burst of magic, you’ll burn this right out of your system and everything will go back to mostly normal. Except for Seville.”

“But… I don’t wanna.”

“But you can.”

“But, Pinkie, I don’t wanna. Applejack said it was time to let go. This feels like letting go.”

“Twilight is right, we need more liquor.” Pinkie Pie pulled her hooves away from her mouth and grabbed Applejack’s foreleg. “Remember what I said… you have to be the responsible one. I… I need to drink until I don’t feel bad.”

“Woohoo!” Twilight’s sudden outburst caused Seville to shy away. “Let’s go get hammered!”

Author's Note

You drank ten shots of tequila
Washed down each shot with gin
Now the floor won't stay beneath you
And the room has started to spin

You'll throw up tonight
Try not to wake your wife
There's a bathroom on the right.

Chapter 33

The taste inside of Twilight Sparkle’s mouth forced her whole body to tense while she gagged and made a valiant effort to cease breathing. Not just a taste—not just a flavour—no, but a stench. Not just any stench, but a rancid, redolent, riotous reek that crept out from between the gaps in her teeth to befoul the air with a malodorous miasma while leaving behind a truly terrible taste upon her leathery, shriveled tongue. The fetor was indescribable, but Twilight’s mind assigned it forevermore as the feculent funk left behind by pure, unfiltered evil.

“Twilight…”

No, she wasn’t dreaming. Somepony had said her name. Twice now. Maybe more. And with each utterance of her name, a lance of agony threatened to lobotomise her. Her legs writhed and the phantom penetrator stirred her grey matter like a spoon in tea. This was a fate worse than death, this was the end of all things, the sum of all fears.

“Twilight, you have to get up. You have to appear for the closing ceremonies. We need to get you cleaned up and upright again.”

When she tried to move, when she tried to lift her head, the pillow, cemented to her face with drool and snot, rose with her. There was another smell, the faint hint of chlorine, a smell that Twilight associated with swimming pools. As she squirmed in the bed, the stench of urine crept out from beneath the covers. Combined with her own death breath, the funktacular feculent foulness proved to be too much for her to handle.

Body thrashing, she somehow thrust her head over the side of the bed and her stomach heaved. Nothing came out but a lot of drool, a bit of bile, and a deafening belch that made her bedmates cry out in pain. Looking down, Twilight saw several waste receptacles filled with sick, but then her eyes played tricks on her and she couldn’t tell how many there actually were.

“Come on,” said Applejack to Twilight, “let me get you into the shower so you can face your adoring public.”

Twilight was dumped into the tub. There was no gentleness in this act, no kindness, no generous carefulness. No, Twilight was with the wrong Element to expect that; she was with Honesty, and Honesty hurt. Oh, when this was over and she felt better, she was going to have some words with Honesty. Magical words with a lot of hard consonants.

She thumped and bumped and whumped against the hard tub, the hard places of her body striking and bouncing like potatoes dumped into a storage bin. Annoyed, she realised that the narrative sentence in her mind was a run-on sentence with far too many ands, plus, there was the fact that she did not appreciate her inky narrative nature referring to her as a peck of potatoes unceremoniously jettisoned into a container.

Rude!

Now in a hexapodal heap of legs and wings, Twilight just lay there, trying not to move while invisible knives skewered her brain box. Inky tears poured from her eyes and strange knowledge jostled inside of her grey matter. Impossible knowledge, something only the hungover Librarian of Souls would know, such as the complicated inner workings of inner tribal breeding.

To wit, a unicorn or a pegasus who had earth pony ancestry could manifest earth pony traits such as strength or enhanced intelligence, but an earth pony, having no wings nor a horn, was unable to channel ancestral traits from other tribes. They might have pegasus magic lurking within them, or powerful unicorns traits, but being of common earth pony stock, these hidden attributes were mere templates, and nothing more.

The trickle of inky tears stained Twilight’s cheeks.

“I’ll be right back,” Applejack muttered while she sauntered away, her tail swishing.

Overhead, the cruel lights of the bathroom seared Twilight’s retinas and she could do nothing to save herself. More odd knowledge swirled within her mind, a suggestion that earth ponies, who functioned as genetic banks, living template carriers, could also carry alicorn traits, something that unicorns and pegasus ponies could not do. Squinting, overwhelmed, Twilight begged her brain to shut up, because thinking hurt.

Gasping, her body spasming, Twilight had herself a good wee right there in the tub. She allowed her skull to come to rest upon the tub’s edge while she pissed like a thoroughbred racer who established dominance by producing what could only be called ‘The Alpha Stream.’ The acrid tang stung her nostrils; it caused a tremendous, terrific wave of nausea to go crashing over her as the orange-brown flood soaked her tail and flowed towards the drain. Her pelt was sticky, matted, crusty, and most of all, smelly.

Closing her eyes, Twilight hoped that she would die, because this was the worst.

Sounds, awful sounds could be heard, and Twilight would have clutched her head, but she couldn’t raise her forelegs. She heard a grunt, a groan, and then a limp, heavy body was tossed into the tub with her. Unwilling to open her eyes or use her brain any more than necessary, she only knew that it was Seville when she heard him say, “It’s wet.”

When he flailed about and bumped into her, it caused starburst explosions to appear upon the inside of her eyelids and the pulsating throb pounding against her skull quickened. He was moaning, in pain, and Twilight could do nothing to help him. She could do nothing to help herself. When he flopped about, there were faint wet splashes that accompanied his every movement.

Either a few hours passed, or a few minutes, it was difficult to tell, and Pinkie Pie was also thrown into the tub. When Pinkie squealed in pain, Twilight was torn between trying to comfort her and throttling her for making such an awful racket. In the end, compassion won out and Twilight wanted to console the pink ponk, but helpless as a newborn, she lacked the means to do so.

Just as Twilight was starting to recover from Pinkie’s porcine squeal, Applejack turned on the cold water…

Just as she had been dumped into the tub, so too was Twilight dumped into a chair. Head pounding, she pried open her eyes, looked down, and saw a greasy plate of breakfast that made her salivary glands go squirty-squirt. Eggs, hash browns, fried oat fritters, beans, fried cheese curds, and other things she wasn’t sure she recognised. It was a breakfast fit for a hungover princess… which she most certainly was.

Seville was plopped into the seat just to her left, and then, a moment or so later, Pinkie was dumped into the chair on her right. The stallion to her left looked awful, but Pinkie… poor Pinkie. She was grey and most of her pink colouration was gone, leaving her as drab and colourless as old, faded newspaper. Not a single curl existed anywhere upon her body and her eyes were more grey than blue. To look at her was to know despair, and to gaze for too long was heartbreaking.

“What do you remember?”

Lifting her head, Twilight considered Applejack’s words while also sniffing the plate of food set before her. What did she remember? This was problematic, because she couldn’t seem to remember much at all. They had left the party and then everything became a blur. But… but there was something about Sapphire Shores, she could almost kind of sort of remember that.

“I remember something about Sapphire Shores,” Twilight said through dry, cracked lips that were in desperate need of moisture. She eyeballed the steaming cup of tea and realised that no matter how hard she tried, she could not summon the magic to lift it. She was utterly helpless, defenseless, with all of her immense power rendered moot.

“I ain’t gonna mince words, so I’ll just say it. You remember one of your bridesmaids. That’s good. Now let those words sink in, Twilight.”

In her current state of mind, Twilight utterly failed to make the connection.

“You darn near killed Sapphire. You got into a drinking contest and Lady Shores refused to accept defeat. The only reason she’s still alive is probably because she’s an earth pony. The two of you called it a draw when the Moondust refused to provide you with more complimentary liquor.”

“I don’t remember that.” The sound of her own voice caused Twilight to wince, which she regretted, because wincing involved full body clenching, and full body clenching involved her skull threatening to split open.

“Do you remember puking and punching a hole through the wall?”

“Punch? With my hoof?” Twilight looked up and the movement caused the sensation of stabbing pins and needles all up and down her neck.

“No, Twilight. You puked and that blasted a hole clean through the wall. Also shattered a very expensive mirror.”

“Oh…”—Twilight felt that profanity was suitable in this instance—“shit.”

“Oh, that happened too, believe you me.”

Twilight made a clumsy attempt to drink some orange juice, but picking it up with her hooves caused some to slosh upon the table. She did get the cup to her lips though and took a few cautious sips, worried about how her stomach might handle it. As it turned out, orange juice was liquid sunshine in her current hungover state, and each little sip returned life and warmth to her body.

“I don’t think it’s sunk in yet,” Applejack remarked while she lifted a cup of tea. “Twilight, at three-oh-two in the morning, after a cavalcade of public announcements regarding your grand plans for the future, Princess Twilight Sparkle did so retain two consorts through the assistance of a Justice of the Peace.”

Somehow, Twilight did not drop her orange juice.

“At three-oh-six, Princess Twilight Sparkle was detained by the Las Pegasus Police Department… for her own protection. As it turns out, they don’t have the powers to arrest a princess, so after blasting you with a firehose to subdue you, they returned you to our room. Thankfully, you cuddled your accomplices in the crime of public disturbance and went right to sleep.”

Closing her eyes, Twilight sighed.

“The Justice of the Peace married you so you’d stay still long enough for the cops to catch up to you in force. Quite a few attended your wedding. They was real respectful like and well behaved, at least during the ceremony. It was filmed, so if you can’t remember it, you’ll have a chance to see what happened.”

“I’m never drinking again—”

“Twilight, we all say that. You’ve said it before.”

“But I mean it this time—”

“You’ve said that before, too.” After taking a sip of tea, the apple farmer continued, “I reckon this wouldn’t be so bad if’n you just didn’t keep repressing everything. You just shove everything inside, Twilight, and compact it all down. And then when you drink… it all comes out. You get a wild hair up your ass and you just… let everything out.”

There was a groan from Seville as Twilight squirmed in her chair. Cracking one eye open, she squinted at Applejack and asked, “Are you angry with me? Disappointed?” Twilight’s parents weren’t here to scold her, so Applejack would have to suffice. She hoped that her honest friend was up to the task.

“What? Shucks… no.” Applejack took another sip of tea and sat with her teacup just below her chin. “Why, reckon that this is the most normal thing you’ve ever done in your life, Twilight. I’m proud of you.”

None of this made sense to Twilight, who opened her eye just a little bit more. “How is this normal?”

In response, Applejack chuckled and this caused ripples to disturb the placid surface of her tea. “Twilight, normal ponies come to Las Pegasus, get three sheets to the wind, and get married. You might just be the most normal member of the Royals, given everything that’s happened. You went on an epic bender that ponies will be telling stories about to their grandfoals. In one night, you’ve passed into living legend status, Twilight Sparkle. And I was one of your bridesmaids.”

“This is all my doing.” Pinkie’s voice was akin to a screechy, out-of-tune violin. “All my fault.”

Ignoring Pinkie Pie altogether, Twilight had a far more pressing concern. “Did anything else happen last night? I mean, lots of things happened last night, that much is obvious. But did I have my first time and not remember it?”

“No.”

Applejack's words caused Twilight to almost sob with relief.

“You tried though. Before the wedding, but after the drinking contest with Sapphire Shores, you tried real hard. You went after Seville like a mare in heat. He turned you down. Said it wasn’t right. You chased him all over, and Pinkie too, but Pinkie just pronked away and wouldn’t let you catch her. With Seville though, I think it had less to do with him being noble, and more to do with him having a wicked case of whiskey dick. There was just no rising to the occasion, for him.”

“Fuck you, Jackie.” Seville’s first words at the table were downright unpleasant.

Applejack laughed. She laughed and laughed and this caused bells of agony to ring inside of Twilight’s skull, which threatened to explode from the sensation. In the middle of all of this, Pinkie whimpered, a shrill, grating sound that did nothing to help Twilight’s splitting headache. Moaning, Seville reached up and began to rub his skull with his front hooves.

“I’m going to let that slide, because you’re in pain. No hard feelings on my part.”

For Twilight’s first princessly act of the day, she tried to recover what she could from the situation. “Well, Pinkie, you and I, we share a husband now.”

“No.” Seville hunched over his plate, sniffed, and his ears fell limp. “No, you’re wrong. Pinks and I share a Princess.”

“You’re both wrong.” Pinkie squeezed her skull between her hooves and her eyes pointed in two distinct directions. “Seville, you and Twilight share a Pie, and a shared pie tastes best when two friends eat it together. Ha ha… innuendo. Pie. Eat me.” With that, she pitched over sideways and would have fallen out of her chair had Twilight not grabbed her and sat her back upright.

“Pinkie—”

“Twilight, I’m so sorry. I had orders, Twilight. I had orders that I didn’t want to follow. I was s’posed to get you to self-destruct so you’d put yourself back together in a better sort of way. I was s’posed to set you up and manipulate you so you’d do the thing you needed to do, but you wouldn’t because you were all caught up in your own rationality. Everypony wanted you to be happy. I didn’t want to trick you, I didn’t honest! I felt so bad going into this but everypony said it was the only way and so I did it even though I didn’t want to. I’m so sorry. Please, forgive me.” At the end of it all, Pinkie’s eyes were a little bluer, and the tips of her mane had a tiny blush of rosy pink to them.

“I’m not even mad—”

“But you need to be mad. I tricked you. I feel so guilty. You have to punish me.”

“I’m not going to punish you.” Twilight’s head hurt too much to deal with this and breakfast was cooling.

“But you hafta,” Pinkie whined as she turned about in her seat to clutch at Twilight. “You don’t know how guilty I feel. I need you to use your princessly powers and punish me. I feel really bad and if you don’t punish me, I’m gonna start crying. It’ll be loud—”

“Fine, fine, I sentence you to a lifetime in the castle’s kitchens. Happy now?”

“That’s tough, but fair,” Pinkie Pie replied while she leaned against Twilight. “Everypony conspired against you, Twilight. Even Spike. It was Spike who said that we need to get you liquored up, so the naughty Twilight would come out and play. We had to release the kraken and brave the danger.”

“Spike did this?” Astonished, Twilight blinked.

“He couldn’t take it anymore. You were unbearable and boring.”

“Did I just get outsmarted by Spike?” Twilight asked, while the fangs of panic pressed against her tender, throbbing neck.

In return, three earth ponies nodded, their heads bobbing up and down.

“That sly little dragon… he exploited my weakness… he just played the princess game—”

“He might be better at it than you,” Pinkie said while she grimaced in pain.

This was something that Twilight was just not ready to accept and her mind reeled at the thought of it. Pride swelled within her, pride and annoyance. Looking back on everything, even in her current hungover state, Twilight could see that each and every single one of her weaknesses had been played on. If she were to be completely honest, the marriage might not have happened—ever. She might have procrastinated and delayed it to the point of self-sabotage, because dealing with the discomfort of change always left her hesitant.

As a pony, she could be lead to water with a good and proper fight, but getting her to drink was rather easy, all things considered.

The worst part of it was over, the terrifying, ‘I can’t come to grips with it!’ part. It was like getting a shot or something along those lines; the terror of the shot was worse than the shot itself. But now that it was over, she could relax. Let down her guard. She was a married mare, and now, it was just a matter of picking up the pieces so everything could be sorted out.

When she got home, Spike was getting a hug… and perhaps an extended interrogation.

“I feel really bad… and I don’t mean the hangover.”

“Pinkie”—Twilight chose her words carefully, because every word hurt to say, making each word precious in much the same way birth was precious—“this isn’t about you. Or me for that matter. Or Seville. You were a means to an end. This was probably some kind of test for you, just like it is for me. This has less to do with us and more to do with what benefits Equestria, as well as the world at large.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better, Twilight. Now I’m confused and I feel bad.”

Closing her eyes, Twilight could feel the blood being forced through the vessels in her brain and four distinct heartbeats pounded in her frogs. Across the table, Applejack was slurping her tea and the sound thudded within Twilight’s ear canals in the most unpleasant way, like hammer blows upon an anvil.

“A long, long time ago,” Twilight began, and each spoken word caused parts of her body to jerk in pain. “There was a confused little unicorn that lived in a library tower. It was so much more fashionable than an ivory tower, you see. This unicorn was a dope, you see. Oh, she had potential, that much was clear, but she was a dope of the worst sort. Like, no hope for this big of a dope. But others believed in her, for some unknown reason.”

To the left, Seville was snickering, but this turned into groans and moans of agony.

“Life was perfectly good in that library tower, and there was no sense in leaving it. But this unicorn, this dope, she was evicted from her tower of ideological purity and sent to Ponyville. It was a dirty move, from a dirty player of a dirty game. But this dope found herself in Ponyville, and she runs into this pink weirdo that can’t even offer a proper hello.”

“Pink weirdo?” Clutching at her head, Pinkie Pie closed her eyes for a moment and tried to make sense of things. “Oh… pink weirdo. I gotcha.”

“This unicorn, this dope, she fails to learn the most important lesson after being booted from her tower of ideological purity, and she settles into a much smaller library tree in Ponyville. Eventually, she’s rooted to the spot and doesn’t budge, because budging sucks. She settles into her tree and decides to herself, ‘this is fine.’ From that point onwards, she was content to remain in one spot.”

Closing her eyes, Twilight tried to recall those days while her brain pulsated in a manner most unpleasant. “The only cure for being rooted was to sprout wings and the little unicorn dope was transformed into an alicorn dope. She never would have budged from where she settled, otherwise. It was in her nature to settle into one spot and find some way to make it so comfortable that moving from that spot was nigh impossible.”

Applejack, chuckling to herself, put down her teacup and began to eat deep fried cheese curds.

“And so the great game was played. Every time the winged dope would begin to settle, the universe itself would conspire against her and she’d find herself in the most amusing, most terrible situations. But this too, became routine. It became familiar and common in its own way. Somehow defying the universe itself, the winged dope settled and found a comfortable spot, from which she did not budge.”

Eyes open, Twilight took a deep breath, then another, and then a third. “Eventually this dope became the Librarian of Souls, but that was a trap. It was a mistake giving the dope that many books. Never would she budge ever again. Emergency measures had to be taken and those who loved this dope the most had her best interests at heart when they conspired against her. She was uprooted yet again, sent to Las Pegasus, and word has it that the winged dope who bleeds ink went on an epic bender. Eventually, her life will change again, when more life comes ripping and tearing out of her nethers like terrifying eldritch parasites from some scary movie, and then there will be no more comfort, no more settling… no more peace, no more sleeping in beyond a reasonable hour. The cure has been found… but the dope looks forwards to defying all expectations. She will find a way to root herself into one place once more, because that is what the dope does.”

“One of the great orators of our times,” Applejack said around a mouthful of fried cheese curds.

“If there is one thing I’ve learned about myself”—Twilight paused, she had no choice, she had to wait for a moment for the pain in her head to subside—“is that I must be tricked or otherwise forced into action. I honestly will not move, otherwise. Pinkie, I have no doubt that this was as much of a test for you as this was for me. Ultimately, this is what Equestria needed… and… I don’t even know where my own needs fall on the Big List of Priorities. But I’m positive that this is what I needed as well. It follows the pattern, after all. As for you, Pinkie, you’ve shown that you can place a necessary directive ahead of your own feelings, and that’s important for the role you’re about to play.”

“Role?” Pinkie Pie became Blinkie Pie, and her eyelids fluttered while her face contorted from pain. “I’m about to play a role? What would that be? Motherhood? I can’t even figure out what comes next. This hangover is murder.”

“Pinkie Pie… as Twilight’s consort, that makes you a Royal.” Applejack leveled her deadpan expression upon the pink mare, who was struck by the terrific force of it.

“No…” Pinkie shook her head from side to side. “No… no… no, that means never having fun again. I clearly didn’t think this through. No…” What little blue that had returned to her eyes faded away and the mare somehow turned a little greyer. “No… I was following orders. I didn’t think about the outcome. Or maybe I did and I denied it and hid it from myself. I can’t think with this much pain in my head, and all of this guilt and shame and conflict.”

Applejack’s expression softened, but not by much. “Pinkie—”

“No… no… this is worse than being sentenced to a lifetime in the kitchens.”

Again, Applejack tried, and this time compassion could be seen glimmering in her green eyes. “Pinkie Pie… it’s time to buck up and get to work. This might not be what you wanted, but it is what you’re stuck with. Make the most of it. You have Seville and Twilight. You had to know this would be the outcome when you played the most dangerous game with Twilight. You played flirt-chicken and lost, Pinkie. Deal with it.”

“I was too scatterbrained to see this far ahead,” Pinkie snapped and the whole of her body convulsed in pain from the force of her uttered words. “Love makes you blind. I… but… I just wanted… no.” Slumping over, her lip quivered and her eyes glazed over with tears.

“Everything really is worse with a hangover.” Trembling, Seville ducked his head down and began to eat his food.

Feeling bad in a way that had no words to explain, Twilight twisted about in her chair, grabbed Pinkie, and pulled her longtime friend close. The first pony she had met in Ponyville, in a way. Pinkie was hot and feverish to the touch and every place that Twilight touched quivered. In a most dreadful turn of events, Pinkie Pie had turned into her sister, Maud, before Maud had found happiness. Dull, lifeless tresses, a vacant, deadpan expression, and a flat, monotonous voice. Pinkie was more grey than pink. After Twilight kissed the distraught earth pony on the side of the mouth, she pulled away with the taste of toothpaste and shame on her lips.

Applejack gave Twilight a wave to get her attention and then she said, “Eat up… we need you downstairs in less than an hour.”

Author's Note

I think my editor was eaten by a grue... mid-edit. But here this is, for now. An edited version might be swapped in later.

Chapter 34

The Hay-Bans™ did nothing. Somehow, the light pressed into Twilight’s eyeballs like red-hot brass tacks and sent jolts of agony shooting along the lengths of her optic nerves. Even worse, these jolts could be seen, because little showers of sparks sprinkled down from the tip of her horn with each head-destroying throb. Hangovers really were the worst and Twilight Sparkle wondered if they could be harnessed somehow as some kind of punishment for unrepentant criminals.

Given the time and resources, she was certain that she could reform the justice system.

As she made her way along to the central auditorium, she failed to notice how others looked at her. Some had faces of worshipful adoration, and others, outright contempt. Yet others were fearful, but some were amused. So focused was she about putting one hoof in front of the other that she failed to notice much of anything at all.

Seville, who came from hardy peasant stock, was already showing signs of recovery and Twilight hated him just a teensy-weensy bit. He had eaten breakfast, drank some tea, a cup of strong coffee, and then poured himself a quadruple shot of extra-dry gin from a half-full bottle found in the fountain in their suite. Reporters drank; that was a given in their trade, and Seville had just survived an epic bender that would no doubt be the highlight of his career.

Pinkie Pie, on the other hoof, seemed even worse. She was now almost completely unrecognisable and bore little resemblance to her former self. Even her cutie marks had faded into almost colourless, indistinguishable blurs. Even in her current state of absolute misery, Twilight had guesses, theories as to why the poor pink ponk was such a wretched mess, with the most plausible one being that it was impossible to laugh in her current state, and laughter was a fundamental aspect of Pinkie Pie’s very being.

“Boss, this way.” Bundt, who had a stern, serious face, seemed to have appeared from out of nowhere. “Stage entrance is this way. I didn’t think you’d make it. Sapphire Shores is just finishing her set.”

“How?” Twilight demanded in a muted voice left dull from pain. “How is Sapphire Shores capable of singing?”

At this, Bundt shrugged her withers, but said nothing. “Boss, you should uh, brace yourself. There’s going to be trouble, I think. Maybe now isn’t the best time to tell you. Follow me, I’ll take you to the stage entrance.”

Twilight’s nod caused her head to swim and she followed after her assistant.

A swell of sound crashed over Twilight like an incoming tide and almost knocked her from her hooves. Pinkie mewled with pain and would have fallen over, had Seville not braced himself against her side. Still unable to use magic, Twilight could do nothing, nothing at all. Sapphire Shores was belting out a soulful song, Sharecropper’s Sorrow, and Twilight could not understand how the mare could sing with what had to be an epic hangover.

With Pinkie’s plaintive whimpering in her ears, Twilight made a snap decision.

“Seville, I can handle this on my own. Take Pinkie upstairs. See if you can sort her out. Applejack, you’re with me.”

“No.” Pinkie struggled to stand upright. “No, we gotta stay together. We’re honeymooning.”

“Pinkie—”

“Twilight, you know she won’t budge.” Seville shuffled on his hooves and when Pinkie wobbled, he somehow pulled off a slick maneuver that left the pink mare slung over his back like a sack of sad, sad turnips. “Quick, somepony find Pinkie some ear cotton.”

“Some ear cotton, if you please,” Bundt said to a passing unicorn technician wearing a headset held together with bright yellow gaffer’s tape.

“Sure thing, Miss Buttercream.”

The fact that they were together now struck Twilight incredibly hard. No more dancing around the issue, no more pussyhoofing around, no more procrastination; this was their shared life now, for better or worse. Being struck full force by her thoughts and emotions left Twilight a little weepy eyed, and ink pooled in the corners and creases around her eyes. No visions seemed forthcoming, just raw, unbridled emotion.

Yet, it was better this way. ‘Twas better to sort out what was, rather than agonise over what might be and how to make sense of everything uncertain. Even in her current muddled state, Twilight could see that Pinkie had in fact, done the right thing, acting as a catalyst in the way she had. Twilight had been given what she wanted, and, even better, she had been given the means to bypass all of the worst parts of working through everything to get it.

Holding up a package of ear cotton, the unicorn technician returned. “Sapphire Shores is wrapping up right now,” he said, shouting over the noise. “Stage in five!”

Blinded by the lights, even through her Hay-Bans™, Twilight Sparkle stumbled forwards into the great unknown. Led by others, she trusted in them for her safety, her well-being. She could feel the heat of the lights upon her and her skin prickled beneath the ruthless illumination. It felt hot enough to be cooked, as if she was standing out-of-doors with Celestia’s burning sun shining upon her.

Too late, it occured to Twilight Sparkle that she was led into every introvert’s worst nightmare. Squinting, she could make out the indistinct shape of a vast crowd. No outlines, her vision was too fuzzy for that, but she could see smears of colour, as if a box of crayons had been left to melt upon a radiator. In her current state, hungover as she was, this was too much to bear—yet, there would be no fleeing from it.

It was at this moment that Twilight decided that she didn’t want to be a pop star.

She wondered how Maud handled being a rock star; all those geology lectures in a packed auditorium had to be trying. Twilight liked Maud’s lectures, but other ponies tended to fall asleep. Feeling a panic waiting in the wings, Twilight thought about Maud’s geology lectures now, at this very moment. The soothing, calming, reassuring monotone resonated through Twilight’s headspace and brought comfort.

Maud was now her sister-in-law.

Which made Tarnish—

“Ponies, your princess!” The announcer’s voice blasted right through Twilight’s ear cotton to assault her brain directly.

Spotlights snapped into position and Twilight heard a grunt from Seville. Pinkie squealed, but this was muffled halfway though, and Twilight guessed that Pinkie had buried her face into Seville’s neck. Dazzled, Twilight fought to recover her senses while her whole body trembled from pain. When Twilight made out Sapphire Shores’ silhouette, hazy, indistinct memories manifested.

Singing and dancing; Twilight’s mind recalled vague images of singing and dancing.

No, more than that; lewd singing and dancing. With Seville and Pinkie. There was a fountain that they had frolicked in, a big one, and Sapphire Shores had been right there with them. Another memory surfaced; Twilight recalled preening her wings in public. Why? Why had she done this? There had been no voice of reason to stop her, that’s why. What shameful displays had she committed? Just thinking of what might have been left her feeling queasy.

“Why, hello, soul sister,” Sapphire Shores said to Twilight as she sashayed closer. “How’s the morning after treatin’ ya?”

Twilight licked her dry lips and the tip of her tongue lingered in the somewhat crusty left corner of her mouth. Every sound was a physical sensation that pulsed through her grey matter and left her with weak, wobbly knees. She had kissed Sapphire Shores last night, and Sapphire Shores had kissed her back. Embarrassment and shame formed a devastating gestalt with her hangover and Twilight cringed at the knowledge that she had been more than a little naughty.

“Regrets, huh?” A husky chuckle caused Sapphire Shore’s body to shake in all the right ways. “I don’t regret anything. Not at all. I got to help a princess of all ponies let her mane down, have a good time, and act freaky-deaky. For one magical night, the egghead got to be the life of the party. Ain’t no shame in that. You’d best be celebrating… if you can remember, that is.”

Twilight heard laughter from the audience, a dull roar that made her cotton-stuffed ears quiver. They heard everything, of course they did, and no doubt, many of them had witnessed her behaviour last night. Mouth dry, guts bubbling, Twilight wished that she had a cold drink and a quiet place to recover.

“Mister Orange… we earth ponies want to know… how does it feel to be you right now? Now that you’ve ascended to your lofty position, will you forget all about us, or will you help the Struggle?” Sapphire Shores wore an amused grin, but her eyes were serious.

When Seville offered up no response, Sapphire Shores pressed him further. “You have to be feeling the weight of the world on your back right about now. When the Royal Pony Sisters got married, Gosling used his position and influence to go do great things. He’s trying to pick a fight with the inner-city problem, a trouble close to my own heart, as anypony who is acquainted with me knows. But great things are expected of Gosling. You on the other hoof…”

Twilight saw Seville turn his head.

“The first thing that will come to the minds of most ponies are of an entirely sexual nature. Hey, lookit that, the princess done found herself a stud. Why else would she marry an earth pony?” Leaning in, Sapphire Shores gave Seville a nudge with her elbow. “How’s it feel knowing that no matter what you accomplish, that will be the one thing that overshadows your entire existence? That by being an earth pony, your only perceived inherent value is your sexual ability?”

These words were too harsh, too raw, too real, and Twilight felt like throwing up.

“It stinks like yesterday’s garbage, I tell ya.” Sapphire Shores’ eyes narrowed. “I’ll be remembered as a sex icon… and maybe that’s deserved. I did what I had to do to get noticed. But I want to be remembered as the most electrifying performer who has ever, or will ever live. No matter how famous I become, now matter what heights I achieve, no matter what good I do—”

“You’re still an earth pony, “ Seville deadpanned.

“Damn straight.” Sapphire Shores clucked her tongue and went, “Mmm, mmm, mmm.”

“Even now that I’ve reached the top, I’m still on the bottom.” Seville’s eyes darted in Twilight’s direction for a moment, then towards the audience, and finally, they returned to Sapphire Shores. “I’m terrified. My every move will be watched and scrutinised in ways that Shining Armor and Gosling will never experience. Everything I do, good, terrible, and otherwise, will not just be applied to me, but to the entirety of my tribe. Anytime Gosling does something remotely questionable, it’s dismissed by, ‘Oh, that wacky pegasus.’ But me? If I do anything, anything at all, anything said about me will be prefaced with, ‘You know how earth ponies are,’ or, ‘It can’t be helped, he’s just an earth pony.’ And with this in mind, I have something I’d like to say to address these issues in advance.”

“And what’s that, sugar?” Sapphire Shores leaned in closer to Seville, putting her microphone closer to his mouth.

“Fuck you.”

Sapphire Shores laughed; it was a husky, bawdy sound made of sex appeal and grit. Twilight Sparkle didn’t know how to feel, or how she should feel. She hadn’t even considered these issues—nor was she aware of them, really. Shining Armor was the noble unicorn that had wed Princess Mi Amore Cadenza. Gosling was the dutiful pegasus that had captured the hearts of the Royal Pony Sisters. What was Seville? What narrative would be created? When she thought about it, her breakfast sloshed around her insides and she felt like spewing.

The morning after a wedding was supposed to be a joyous time, but this was misery like nothing else. Tasting bile, she pressed her lips together and thought about another wedding that had gone horribly wrong. At the time, she had some trouble understanding, but now, with everything that had just taken place, she was able to look back in perfect clarity. When Dim had married Blackbird, ponies had petitioned Celestia, demanding his abdication.

Cooking beneath the lights, Twilight suffered a sweaty shiver.

“Oh”—Sapphire Shores made a dramatic, dismissive wave with her hoof—“you know what they say ‘bout those earth ponies. You give them a little good fortune and they get all self-righteous and uppity. Have no sense of decorum. His first day as a Royal Consort, and he tells us to get fucked. Can you believe that? But what else can you expect from them and their kind?” She gave her eyes a dramatic roll and then batted her eyelashes at the audience. “This is why we have to hold them down… so they stays all humble and decent. It’s for their own good. The moment one forgets their place, they all get so nasty. We can’t have that.”

Jaw muscles clenching, guts churning, Twilight felt like fainting or puking, she couldn’t be sure. Seville and Sapphire Shores were laughing; for that matter, so was Applejack. What was so funny? Confused, baffled, upset, Twilight felt as though she was a little filly again, on stage to give some big recital. Why were they laughing at such horrible things? How could they laugh? Gorge rising, Twilight gulped in a few deep breaths to try and regain control over her overwhelmed senses.

The constriction around Twilight’s ribs grew to the point where each breath caused pain.

“And there ain’t no pony who hates earth ponies more than earth ponies. Once one of us rises up as high as we can go somehow, we hafta change. We hafta show that we hate earth ponies more than any pegasus or unicorn. It’s the only way we can get respect. Because if we’re nice at all, that’s showing favouritism and then comes the accusations of tribalism. So, if we’re ever to be successful and get ahead somehow, we absolutely have to hate our own kind. We can’t show ’em a lick of kindness for fear of hurting our own standing. Be careful, Mister Orange… whatever you do, don’t you show no favouritism, or you’ll be eaten alive. You’d better get your mean face on and start hatin’ if you knows what’s good for you.”

Resolute, stoic, Seville had no response.

“And what about you, Princess? Just barely married and you’ve already been called a segregationist—”

“What?” Twilight blurted out.

“Oh! You ain’t seen the papers yet.” Sapphire Shores clucked her tongue yet again. “Right now, there are petitions being organised. Plans are being made to demand that you abdicate. You had a lot to say last night, Princess. I’m positive that some of the message came out wrong, given your condition.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, Twilight stood there and wished that she didn’t exist.

“I understood the gist of what you had to say, Princess, but dayum… you left a lot of loose words that could be twisted to mean anything that the press wants them to mean. If it was anypony else, I’d say that their political career was sunk, but not you. You married two earth ponies, so you’re already down low on the bottom. Ain’t no place to go but up, Princess. Not to worry… I think you’ll have most of us right here with you.”

Forcing her eyes open, Twilight felt the lights stabbing her right through her Hay-Bans™. When she turned to look at the audience, she could not help but wonder what they felt about her. What they thought. How bad was the damage? What had been said in the papers? What had she said last night? How careless had she been that her words could be misconstrued or twisted around to have dreadful purpose?

“Princess Twilight Sparkle… welcome to the Struggle.”

A great many things happened all at once, with each of them on their own enough to overwhelm Twilight, but with all of them together…

Her life was now linked with Seville’s and Pinkie Pie’s. Their struggles were now hers. This was impossible to comprehend, yet it existed within her mind, a baffling confoundment that she would be forced to puzzle out, something she had to make peace with. More than that, beyond that, she had started a family with them, which meant foals. Reeling, her knees knocking, Twilight understood that she might bring disadvantaged foals into the world, and they would know this struggle.

They would grow up with every advantage that she could give them, but would still somehow be at a disadvantage by virtue of their tribe. This hurt; it inflicted pain in ways that could not be expressed, and there were no words in existence suitable to convey this feeling. Twilight thought back to previous conversations, exchanges right here at the bake-off, being told that as a princess, she could not possibly understand the plight of her subjects until she was married and had foals.

The first inklings of understanding were now manifest.

All of this came with a crashing wave of guilt and shame; the very fact that she had been oblivious to all of this until now, now at this very moment when it impacted her and affected her life. She thought of the horrible, horrible waitress; she had completely failed to notice. How could she possibly be a good mother if she was incapable of spotting such danger? Her blindness, her obliviousness; if she couldn’t see it coming, how could she possibly teach her foals how to deal with it? How could she keep her loved ones safe?

The conversation in the catwalks echoed in her mind and with it came a cascading avalanche of thoughts.

“What could you possibly know of our daily struggle?” These words echoed and brought with them inky tears that made it appear that her mascara was running. “What do we have in common? What common perspective do we share? You and I… near as I can tell, we share nothing in common. You have wings and a horn. I can’t even begin to understand that. But if you had foals like I do, I’d know that you and I would have something we can talk about. Common ground. We earth ponies are big on common ground. Get it? Ground?

Understanding, like a falling anvil, struck Twilight on the head.

There was something worse than this hangover, and that was this emerging epiphany. Ignorance would no longer be permissible. Obliviousness would be disastrous. She barely understood what this struggle was, and yet she was mired in it, sunk into its tarry depths right up to her wingpits. Her subjects had been right, and she had been wrong to doubt them.

“Hold steady, Canterlot girl.” Sapphire Shores’ voice was right in Twilight’s ear and though somewhat muffled by the cotton, was clear enough to be understood. “The big mare in the big house wouldn’t have sent you to deal with this if she didn’t think you were capable. That’s not how she works. That mare has a thing for winning. She’s a sore, sore loser, that mare. Right now, I can see you tearing yourself apart. You don’t have that luxury, Canterlot girl. You betta pull yourself together. You’re one of us now. Don’t worry. The big mare in the big house, she provides. You’ll get your crash course about the Struggle.”

Gulping bile, Twilight turned to look Sapphire Shores right in the eye.

“And now you’re wondering how I knows all this.” Sapphire Shores’ lips pressed into a straight line and she leaned in close to Twilight. “That big mare I keep mentioning… she done told me that she’s been planning this since the Reconstruction. The right pony just had to come along. For a time, she was convinced that it was me of all ponies, but I’m not the one. I get mad and I want to beat ass. I don’t have patience for fools. I ain’t gots the temperment for this job. When you get back home, you go and you visit that big mare in her big house. You tell her I said that you’re the one.”

“But I’m so ignorant,” Twilight said in a voice loud enough to be picked up by Sapphire Shores’ microphone. “I’m blind. I… I… I don’t even have any idea what is really going on most of the time, and just recently, I failed to notice the problem while it was happening. I’m not the one.”

Reaching up with her hoof, Sapphire Shores turned off her microphone, leaned in even closer to Twilight, and then, standing cheek to cheek she said, “Canterlot girl, you gonna be a mama soon. If not you, then the pink one. And odds are good that little earth ponies are in your future. Protecting them is not enough. That’s not what the big mare wants, no. You have to change the world for them. Now, I don’t think I can do that, but you… I think that you can. I think you’ve got what it takes. Give them the world and the future that they deserve, and you do that for all of us.”

“But I…” Twilight’s words faded into a melancholy squeak and her ears went limp against the sides of her head. Why was she trying to think of an excuse? Lifting her head high, she looked at the audience. No doubt, she was mired in more scandal than could ever be imagined. She had misbehaved; how much and how bad was still unknown. All of her fear, worry, and doubt was still there. Everything that she had seen, had heard, and all she had experienced, she hadn’t had time to internalise it. No real, serious effort had been made to digest everything that had happened before her tumultuous night.

In the midst of all of this overwhelming realisation, Twilight turned to Pinkie. The Element of Laughter had led her to this point. Pinkie Pie had been appointed to the position of Senior Advisor of Earth Pony Affairs for a reason; Celestia had been working her plan. Beyond all of that, Pinkie had done so much more; her actions had led Twilight to this newfound place of understanding, and upon realising this, Twilight knew that she owed her friend a great deal. Somehow, she would need to smooth over and soothe all of Pinkie’s guilt, fear, and shame.

You couldn’t fault a pony for acting as an agent of destiny.

With a deft movement of her hoof, Sapphire Shores turned her microphone back on, backed a few steps away from Twilight, and turned to face the crowd. After clearing her throat a few times, she made a broad, sweeping gesture with her hoof and said, “The big mare in the big house has given us a chance. More than that, she’s given us a precious gift. Now, I must ask you a question… are you willing to squander that?”

Ears lifting, Twilight paid attention to the crowd. At first, only a few ‘nos’ could be heard, but then something took over the crowd and the denial became a crashing swell of sound. Sweating, feeling all but sunburnt beneath the cruel lights, and with her guts twisted into knots, Twilight endured every introvert’s nightmare.

“Princess Celestia gave us the means, but we have to do the work. Sorry, but that’s just the way it is for us. Princess Twilight Sparkle here, she has the ways and the means, but that’s not enough. She needs us. All of us. Each and every one of us. She’s gonna have to call in some favours… probably a lot of them. In return, we get a better deal maybe, and with it, a better future. If this fails, it’s our fault. This is our time. No more squabbling. No more bickering—”

The roar that came from the crowd was enough to completely drown out Sapphire Shores and the sassy earth pony mare had no choice but to wait. Twilight realised it wasn’t just earth ponies; the audience was peppered with wings and horns aplenty. Like one of Octavia’s uplifting rising crescendos, hope ascended within Twilight’s breast, clawing its way up from the darkened depths where it had plunged.

“No more corporate backing!” Sapphire Shores suddenly shouted, her voice thundering through the auditorium. “We can’t trust those fools to save us. Look what happened here, at this very bake-off. Those fools were gonna leave us high and dry. But who saved us? Who made all of this possible?”

The sound that struck Twilight was a physical force and she had to lean into it as one did a strong wind. It vibrated in her bones and filled her soft tissues with a hot, fuzzy feeling. Her hangover protested this, all of this, but nothing could be done to save her. This was a moment that had to be endured, like foalbirth, or having that awkward talk with one’s mother about the joyful delights of procreation.

“I say we go a step further and we send those corporations a message. We boycott those who would exploit us.” Sapphire Shores began to pace back and forth on the stage, her sweat-soaked body glistening beneath the oppressive overhead lights. “We must act as one and send a message. Twilight shared with me her vision… about a bake-off for each tribe, with the overall winner acting as a representative for their tribe. I think it is a fine idea. The very fact that it is being so thoroughly and so aggressively picked apart in the papers tells me that it is exactly what we need. The powers that be don’t want us acting together in unity… no… we’re easier to exploit if we’re divided. All us. Earth ponies, pegasus ponies, and unicorn ponies. We all know somepony that’s getting shafted.”

The sound that followed was indescribable. It ruffled Twilight’s feathers and her mane was blown back away from her face. Shouting, stomping, whistling, the sound of an overwrought crowd worked into a frenzy. The hungover alicorn came to the worrisome conclusion that she had just been given an army; Sapphire Shores was securing for her a force for change.

“If we want it, this could be the first day of our Reformation.” Sapphire Shores’ voice was so loud that it was somewhat distorted coming out of the sound system. After a moment, she spoke again, further inciting the crowd. “I said, if we want it, this could be the first day of our Reformation!”

This was now the second loudest sound that Twilight had ever heard, with the first being caused by a massive chunk of rock called down from outer space by Princess Celestia in the long-ago past and dropped upon a city. That terrific sound haunted her dreams, but this sound, trapped within the confines of an auditorium, was no less impressive, as it was a sound made by impassioned ponies.

Alas, this sound could not be endured, and it was Twilight Sparkle’s ultimate undoing.

Author's Note

This chapter suffered so many rewrites. Thank you, to all of you, who were patient on the Discord while I flailed about with my uncertainty.

Chapter 35

When awareness returned, Twilight had a cool, wet cocoon wrapped around her hot, feverish body. For one moment, muddled as she was, she thought Spike was here; but when she remembered where she was, she knew she was mistaken. Everything quivered, every muscle in her body protested the fact that she was hungover, and her guts bubbled in the most awful way.

Somepony was rubbing her stomach; slow, measured strokes that went from her ribs down to the fuzzy hollow just down below her navel. In her current state, she had trouble processing the sensation, which was as comforting as it was confounding. These were intimate tummy rubs and much to her muddled surprise, she didn’t want them to stop.

Seville was rubbing her stomach, she realised. He had a light touch and his hoof went back and forth, which gave her gooseflesh all over. Twilight’s face was covered with a wet towel, which was ideal; it kept the light out while keeping her face cool. When she spoke, her words were muffled.

“Seville?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Do you want me to stop?”

Even in her current state of just having woken up, still hungover, and confused, she marvelled at how well Seville knew her quirks. “No, please don’t.” Stretching, she drew in a deep breath while her muscles bunched and grew tight. This effort proved to be too much though and she went limp again, collapsing into the damp spot of the bed left warm by her body.

“You overheated. This happens to Celestia, too. She forgets to spread those wings of hers from her sides. I think the lights cooked you.” Then, after a few seconds of thoughtful silence, he added, “I think that is why she favours the cooler climes of Canterlot. It strikes me that alicorns have a biological flaw, and that is that they are prone to overheating. It even happens to Cadance. A unicorn’s thaumaturgical system generates a lot of heat… like, a lot of heat, and if you combine that with wings…” His words trailed off into a sigh as he went silent.

“You’ve been bored—”

“Yes, I have. Been sitting here with nothing but my own thoughts.” while he spoke, his hoof continued its slow, almost lazy circuit, going back and forth, back and forth.

When she shifted in the bed, Twilight realised that Pinkie was sprawled out and asleep. Focusing her mind, Twilight concentrated upon the sounds of Pinkie’s laboured breathing. While she lay there, listening, having her tummy rubbed, she thought about how much work Seville had done to make her comfortable. He didn’t have magic, or little clawed fingers, yet somehow he had mummified her in wet towels, Twilight’s prefered treatment for hangovers.

And tummy rubs that verged upon lewdness.

Marital tummy rubs. Yes, that is what they were, she decided. The Tummy Rubs of Marital Bliss. The special sort of tummy rubs not done by friends, but by married ponies. Beneath the towel, Twilight nibbled upon her own lip and revelled in the sensations she experienced from her current state of being, both good and bad.

“Thank you,” Twilight said to Seville, “for making me comfortable.”

“It’s nothing,” he replied.

“No.” When she spoke, her lips brushed against the damp towels, which had warmed from her breath. “No, it’s something. You went through a lot of work to care for me and it shows.”

Seville’s hoof paused upon her stomach and she felt a light pressure from its weight. It was where his hoof had stopped that caused her heart to start racing. He had stopped mid-stroke, at the lowest possible point, and his frog could be felt against the soft pillow of fat that served as a base for her mammaries. Yes, mammaries, because right now, Twilight had to think of everything in scientific terms, because otherwise, her thoughts would be just too lewd to bear.

His hoof lifted and Twilight feared that the tubby rubs had come to an end, but her fears were unfounded. He patted her, which sent delightful ripples of jiggly joy through everything in the immediate vicinity of his touch, then, and only then, when the patting was done, did the tummy rubs continue.

“I got some bottles of Princess~Cola from the vending machine on our floor. Turns out, there are vending machines on the suite floor, they’re just well hidden. They’re sitting in a bucket of ice. Just finding the ice machine was quite an adventure.” He drew in a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then let it all out in a long, slow exhale. Again, he breathed in deep…

“Applejack took it upon herself to give a speech in your stead. Everypony was worried about you. Hotel security helped get you upstairs. They wanted to get you to the hospital, but I knew exactly what was wrong and how to fix it. It took some convincing and Sapphire Shores had to step in and tell them to let a husband do his job. I did worry just a little bit, and wondered if maybe we should get you to a hospital, but I also knew what a fuss that would cause.”

“Oh dear,” Twilight managed to say.

“It was weird,” Seville murmured. “Suddenly, I had some command. Some authority. I wasn’t just Seville the reporter… I was Twilight Sparkle’s Consort. I don’t know how to feel about it. I was treated differently.”

Seville’s hoof left her stomach and the blissful belly rubs ceased. The towel covering Twilight’s neck was lifted and she felt the chilly air-conditioned air blow directly against her damp, saturated pelt. After a moment, the towel slapped her, which stung a bit, but she knew that it was an accident and probably couldn’t be helped. Then, the towel was laid over her neck again, with the cooler side of the towel now against her flesh.

Then, the towel over her face was pulled away, but before it was gone completely, Twilight squeezed her eyes shut. Her fears were unfounded though. The room was dark, the heavy drapes over the windows were closed. Cautious, she cracked open one eye for a bit of a test look, and when no piercing light seared her retina, she opened both eyes to have a look around.

Seville was dunking her face towel in a bucket of ice water. He had one corner of it in his teeth and Twilight could not help herself, she cringed at the awkwardness of this moment. After a bit of a struggle, he got the towel out, got it gripped in his fetlocks, and gave it a mighty twisty squeeze that sent the excess water cascading back into the bucket, but also all over the carpeted floor.

When he turned back around, Twilight captured his eyes with her own. A lot could be accomplished with the right blink; Rarity had taught her that. A lady should be able to communicate her every need with nothing but a series of just the right blinks, winks, and smirks. Twilight had not yet mastered this art, she found the whole idea quite silly, really she did—but Seville was now frozen in place, spellbound.

Like a gorgon, she had transfixed him with her gaze.

Having discovered that she had immense power with her feminine wiles, Twilight wondered what else she could do with it, but not much came to mind. She was thirsty and needed a drink, but she didn’t think she could wordlessly convey such a need to Seville. In the dim light she saw him in a whole new way and she allowed her eyes to drink him in without reservation, fear, worry, or doubt.

He approached, walking on two legs, the towel clutched in his fetlocks. The towel was laid out over her stomach and when the cool dampness settled against the gap between her hind legs, Twilight let out a little shivery hiss. Parts of her went hard, parts that were difficult to ignore, and when the towel was adjusted she felt it sliding over two hard points. Like soldiers standing at attention, they demanded inspection.

“Would you like a drink?” Seville asked.

Twilight very much wanted a drink, but expressing this need was difficult at the moment. Her body was in a great state of conflict, hungover as it was, but also aroused. The cold chill from the towel caused a weird pinchy sensation and her hind legs stirred as her muscles tensed. Never at any point had she felt such a strong sense of friendship, trust, and affection. With these feelings came a potent, almost overbearing sense of arousal. Rather than repress it, or ignore it due to the discomfort it caused, which she had always done in the past, Twilight’s battered, overheated, hungover brain allowed it to happen.

This was pretty okay, her brain decided.

“I would love a drink.”

Twilight blinked; she had not said these words and it took a moment for her befuddled brain to arrive at Conclusion Station. The bed shook, it creaked as it shifted, and Pinkie Pie curled up into a fetal position. The mountain of blankets over Pinkie shuddered, one pink hoof emerged for a second, and then was yanked back beneath the blankets while a hiss could be heard from under the covers.

“Nope, too cold.”

“I had to drop the thermostat.” Seville sounded apologetic. “I set it as low as it would go.”

“So that’s why I was dreaming of Yakyakistan. I can feel the yaks stomping on my skull right now.”

There was a rattle of glass, ice, and metal. A few seconds later, the distinctive hiss of a bottle of soda being opened caused Twilight’s ears to prick. When she heard the sound of fizzy liquid being poured, her salivary glands attempted to moisten her mouth, but failed spectacularly. Her mouth was so dry at the moment that eating one of the wet towels seemed appealing.

“I woke up because my Pinkie Sense sensed confused arousal.” Then, after a moment, the muffled voice beneath the blankets added, “I also sensed unbridled sexual disaster, which feels an awful lot like my ‘a volcano is about to erupt’ sense. Somepony’s virginity was in real danger. I thought I would have to throw a party and that would suck right now.”

Seville fumbled his words and stammered a few times before finally saying, “My intentions were noble and good… I would never take advantage of Twilight in her condition… why, I—”

“Pinkie wasn’t sensing you,” Twilight whispered whilst she squeezed her hind legs together in a self-conscious manner.

Again, the voice from beneath the blankets was heard. “That would explain the danger.”

It was just them, sitting around the table in the near-dark. Sitting in a chair was actually cooler than laying in the bed, and Twilight revelled in the shiver-inducing cool air that blew from the air conditioning vent. She kept her wings out, away from her body, and she clutched her drink in her fetlocks.

Pinkie was wrapped in a blanket, but also drinking an ice-cold drink with extra ice. She was still as pale as death, with very little colouration to be seen or found. Hunched over, miserable, she stared down into her cup and was unusually still. Getting Pinkie to sit still for any length of time was almost impossible, so her utter lack of movement said much of her condition.

Even though her head was thudding, Twilight couldn’t bear the silence. She wanted to hear the voices of her companions—her mates. In the course of just one reckless night, life had changed. The definition of life had changed; for Twilight, life was no longer a singular endeavour, but was now a group effort.

“We’re going to die,” Pinkie Pie whispered. “We’re all going to die.”

“Pinkie?” Twilight wished that the silence hadn’t been broken in such a manner.

Rocking back and forth in her chair now, Pinkie turned a crazed, glazed stare upon Twilight. “We can’t go home.”

“Pinks, you’re not making sense.”

“Tarnished Teapot is only afraid of just one thing in this world,” Pinkie Pie whispered, her tone both dire and ominous. “And for good reason.”

“Pinkie… snap out of it. You… Pinkie, pull yourself together.” Twilight felt a chilly prickle that didn’t come from the air conditioner.

“We… are… doomed.”

“Pinks, everything feels worse with a hangover. We’re not doomed.” Seville didn’t sound too certain of himself, and for good reason; Pinkie Pie could be downright unnerving at times.

“Spoons.” Pinkie’s crazed glaze intensified. “So many spoons.”

A wild shiver ran up and down Twilight’s spine, though she could not say why. She sipped her drink, shivered a bit more, and realised that she no longer felt too warm. Was Pinkie the cause? Perhaps. Spoons? Why worry about spoons? Pinkie Pie was having a moment, one of her fugues. What she needed was to laugh, to feel good again, but Twilight wasn’t sure how to go about it. She’d never seen Pinkie this bad off before.

“Nightmare Spoon.” Pinkie Pie murmured out the words while shaking her head. “Her coming was foretold when the final daughter eloped. Now the world will know darkness. Nothing can save us now.”

Yes, the room was too cold now and Twilight thought about crawling back into the warm bed. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to concentrate and risked splitting her skull wide open in a desperate attempt to make some magic happen. Sparks flew from the tip while immense pressure built up in the base of her horn. Her brain throbbed in the most unpleasant way, but her horn ignited with a pale, weak light. Reaching out with her mind, she flicked the thermostat so the room would no longer be an icebox.

Perhaps a distraction would work. “Pinkie… I wanted to thank you.”

“For what, Twilight? Releasing Nightmare Spoon upon the world?”

“The thing I value most in life is understanding,” Twilight began, and she tried to pick her words with as much care and consideration as possible. “On the stage, before I passed out, I… I had me some moments of great understanding. You made all of this possible. You led me to the place I needed to be and did what needed to be done so I’d be ready to face whatever comes next. This… all of this”—Twilight made an all-encompassing gesture with her hoof—“has opened up my eyes.”

“Do you mean that, Twilight?”

“Of course I do.” Twilight began to feel warm again, but it wasn’t from her hangover. “Also, our marriage. I might not remember it but I’m glad everything happened just the way it did. I was stuck in a rut. This is exactly what I needed to pull me out.”

“I don’t know what to say, Twilight. I still feel awful.”

“For Trixie’s own benefit, we had to trick her into helping herself.” Twilight allowed herself a moment of princessly pride. “It wasn’t done for our benefit. It wasn’t done for our gain. But when given just the right circumstances, when given just the right motivators”—she paused, thoughtful—“Trixie became the pony she was meant to be. Our manipulations were done with altruism in mind. Trixie benefited first and foremost—and that is how the Princess Game is played.”

“But I feel bad because of what I tried to do with Cheese…” For a moment, it seemed as though Pinkie had more to say, but no more words came forth. Hunched over, she wrapped her lips around her straw and sucked up some soda.

“It’s true, Pinkie, that you are getting what you wanted. A family. You have that now. But that’s the reward for acting on the behalf of the Greater Good. You get the family that you wanted, and Equestria, well, Equestria gets the reformation that it needs. I’m not sure if I’m the one to do it, but it does seem that this is, at the root of the issue, a friendship problem.”

“It bugs me that you’re not angry with me.”

“If I was angry with you, I’d be a hypocrite. I manipulate the lives of others all the time. It’s part of what I do. I encourage others to be their very best, because that is what Equestria needs them to be. Everything I do is for the benefit of others and for the good of all. Pinkie, our friendship started as a grand act of manipulation from Celestia. She had files on each and every one of you. She had watched, waited, and was prepared. Somehow, she knew that we’d be the perfect bearers for the Elements of Harmony. If I was to be mad at you for what you did, then I’d have to be mad at Celestia too, for giving me such a wonderful gift… my friends.”

For a moment, it seemed as though Pinkie might say something, but nothing happened. Something flashed within her eyes, some faint, twinkling light, and from this flash of illumination, vivid blue rippled outward, restoring the colour in her eyes. She blinked, and when her eyes were opened once more, they were the blue that Twilight remembered. The rest of Pinkie remained a lifeless, dull grey, which was worrisome. But the eyes, the eyes were the window to the soul, and Pinkie’s eyes had been restored.

“If anypony can give Equestria the reformation that it needs, it’s you two.” Seville cleared his throat and then continued, “Or maybe it’s us three. I guess that’s the point. This isn’t something that just one pony can do. It starts with us… and our friends. This is the logical progression from everything that’s come before. Now, the three of us need to figure out what to do next. And I guess it really is the three of us, and not just you two, because I guess I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t needed somehow.”

Twilight nodded.

“This reformation isn’t even about us earth ponies.” Seville leaned forwards, his brows furrowed, and a thoughtful expression was plastered upon his face. “Us earth ponies, we’re just the most visible symptom of a much bigger problem. I guess it hits us the hardest because we’re the most vulnerable to it. I’ve given this problem a lot of thought, actually. Really, I think it might be the same issue that Goose is trying to fight, just a different aspect of it. I think. It’s hard to say for sure. Goose tries to root it out by attacking poverty—he hates poverty, and he’s right to wage war on it.”

“It’s just the three of us against the world,” said Twilight to her companions.

“And any allies that we might gather,” Seville added.

“Yes.” Twilight nodded her agreement. “But it starts with the three of us. It starts today. It starts with this conversation that we’re having right now. Not revolution, but reformation. Seville, I need you to bring Goose around to our way of thinking. We’re going to need to ruthlessly exploit his charm and charisma. I think that you are correct; Goose is already dealing with an aspect of this issue. We need to coordinate our efforts. I think that’s part of the problem. A lack of organisation. We already have champions dealing with the different aspects of this tremendous problem, but these individual efforts will accomplish very little on their own. We need to organise into a well-coordinated effort and act as one.”

“All of this is fine and good.” A ribbon of drool hung between Pinkie’s mouth and her straw. “But it doesn’t change the fact that we are doomed. Doomed.”

“Pinkie… why are we doomed? What are you going on about?”

“Nightmare Spoon, Twilight. Nightmare Spoon. The only creature that Tarnished Teapot fears. His only known weakness. We will soon come to know his terror. We are doomed.”

Author's Note

The Tummy Rubs of Marital Bliss.

Almost as good as Happy Husband Hugs.

Chapter 36

Just when Twilight wasn’t sure that her day could get any worse, it did. She made the mistake of checking out the newspapers so that she might have a better idea of what had happened. Even after being warned, she wasn’t prepared for what she saw. Now, she felt like throwing up, or crying, or crying while throwing up.

Not only had she behaved poorly, but she had said things. Awful things. She had said the most awful of things. During her drunken rampage, she had babbled at great length about revolt, revolution, but this was not the worst of what had happened, no. She had railed against Celestia it seemed, blaming her for the state of Equestria. At some point, a riot had almost started in Mustang Square, and Twilight was the direct cause. All manner of dreadful words had been said about Celestia. Inept. Out of touch. Elitist. Complicit. Police were dispatched to Mustang Square to disperse the angry mob that had gathered to listen to Twilight’s drunken ranting. She had torn down her mentor and said every rotten thing that could possibly be said.

After looking at the various front pages, Twilight reached a conclusion; going into seclusion might be the only solution. Facing Celestia after this would be nigh-impossible. Twilight had damaged the public’s trust in their leader, their princess. She had openly encouraged revolt, revolution, and civil disobedience. No, seclusion just wasn’t enough for sins of this magnitude—self-imposed exile would be better.

Then there was her behaviour, some of which Twilight would not have believed if there wasn’t photographic evidence. Every article was cringe-inducing and each of them was somehow worse than the one previous. The pissing for distance contest stood out as a highlight, with a potentially record-breaking urine stream.

For a time, there had been hope. She had been ready to change the world, but now, now after seeing the papers… Twilight was certain that she had no business changing the world. Was she even fit to be a princess? When she went home, she would have to go to Canterlot first and assess the damage. If Celestia was angry—and she would have every right to be—then Twilight would face whatever consequences arose with as much courage as she could muster.

How would this hurt the war effort? How badly had she damaged the morale of the nation? How much discord had she sown? Fearing the very worst of outcomes, Twilight even wondered if she had just given Grogar some kind of advantage, or worse, a victory. In one drunken night, Twilight feared that she had done irreparable harm to the nation she was sworn to defend. She had encouraged the little ponies to rise up and tear everything down. Discord, sensing chaos, had arrived, and now Twilight understood why.

She had much to answer for.

The door opened and Applejack entered the room, along with Sapphire Shores. Both were sweaty—drenched even—and Twilight could smell the sour tang of sweat. Lifting her head to look at them, she pushed the newspapers away from her with a hard shove that sent them falling to the floor like leaves.

“You’re up.” Applejack seemed surprised. “Is Pinkie okay? Is she asleep?”

“She went back to bed.” Twilight watched as Applejack’s eyes darted from paper to paper. “Seville just left a few minutes ago to get more soda and ice.” Then, almost as an afterthought, she asked, “How did your speech go?”

“I don’t reckon I know,” Applejack replied while Sapphire Shores sat down in a chair opposite of Twilight. “I made some promises I hope I can keep. I’ve committed us Elements to the struggle to come. Even as I said it, I was scared I might be lying about it. We’re all so scattered now. There was a time when all of us would have been right here with you… we woulda gone on a bender together. But the truth is, we rarely see one another these days.”

Twilight tried to think of what to say, but nothing came to mind.

“Rarity only keeps an address in Ponyville for tax purposes. I’m sure she’ll help. In her own way, I reckon. She’ll throw some gala, or fashion show, or some big party and then she’ll toss money at the problem, ‘cause that’s how she does things. Rainbow’ll raise awareness about it, I reckon. She’ll give some big motivational speech just before she does her big fancy Wonderbolt thing that she does.”

Twilight’s gaze fell down to the table.

“Flutters and I will give it a go, along with you and Pinkie. I suppose the actual work part will fall on us, and I done guess I’m okay with that. A change needs to happen. For me, it starts at home, with Sugar Belle.” Applejack shuffled on her hooves. “Standing there in front of that crowd, and lookin’ out at ‘em, I got to thinkin’ that I owe them more than what I’m givin’ but what I owe them, I can’t say how to go about givin’ it, or just what it is I owe them. I dunno if I can make sense of it all. I done reckon I could be doing more, but for the life of me, I just don’t have a clue what I could be doing. Coming here to this here bake-off, it changed me. Shucks… colour me surprised that this ol’ mare can still learn something. I thought I was too set in my ways.”

A low, throaty chuckle could be heard from Sapphire Shores.

“I think that when I done get home, I’ll have a long talk with Mac and Sugar. I gots me this idea about being a corporate charity. We’ll keep just what we need for operating costs and then Twilight, why, I reckon that money’ll go to you. We can use it to help the cause. Daggum it, Rarity ain’t the only fancy-ass fronker that can throw money at a problem.”

“You’d do that, Applejack?” Again, the fragile flame of hope kindled within Twilight’s breast. If anypony could pull her out of the mire she found herself in, it was her friends.

“Well, I have to do something. Tarnation, I’m sick of Rarity getting all the limelight, Twi. It gets on my last nerve, so it does.”

“Friendly competition is healthy just so long as it stays friendly.” Hearing her own words, Twilight’s bitterness made her think of just how trite they sounded, but she said nothing.

“I have to go soon,” Sapphire Shores said to Twilight. “But before I do, I have one final message to impart upon you.”

“And that is?” Leaning forward, Twilight tried to read the eyes of Sapphire Shores.

“No matter how bad you think all this is, it’s not the end of the world.”

Twilight felt her spine give way and she slumped over, crushed beneath some invisible weight. Applejack trotted off in the direction of the bathroom and when she vanished from the edges of Twilight’s vision, the distraught alicorn closed her eyes while thinking of what Sapphire Shores had just said.

“I’m already behind schedule.” Sapphire Shores rose from her chair, stretched her legs, and groaned when her knees popped. “I’m gettin’ old. Too old for these drunken nights out. But being the fool that I am, I keep having them.” Then, without further ado, she headed for the door.

“Sapphire,” Twilight called out, and doing so caused her head to feel swimmy.

“Yes? What you need, Canterlot girl?”

“How… how do I recover from this? You’re a public figure. Have you dealt with scandal?”

“You make right,” Sapphire Shores replied. With a chuckle, she pulled open the door, and then with a turn of her head, she cast a smirk back over her withers in Twilight’s direction. Still chuckling, she pulled the door open, stepped out, and then sashayed away as the door shut itself behind her.

Alone in the dim room, Twilight stared down an uncertain, unknown future.

Seville returned, bearing a bucket held in his mouth, and from this bucket several glass bottle necks protruded. Twilight looked at him, and did so in such a way that he almost dropped the bucket. There was a clunk of metal, ice, and glass as he recovered. Wasting no time, he hurried across the room, his eyes brimming with warm concern.

He wasn’t like her brother, or her father for that matter. Maybe just a little, in some ways. Seville was just… himself. Twilight watched as he approached, coming closer, and as awful as everything was, the world didn’t seem quite so bad when he was close. He was a pacifist, something that she admired and respected, but he was also a soldier with medals for valour and bravery in combat. Of course, Seville had not been placed into standard service, but Twilight didn’t think that mattered. He was still a member of the guard and every member of the guard deserved respect, standard service or no.

The bucket was put down into a brass pedestal designed to hold it and then Seville turned his head to look at her. When their eyes met, she felt a spark, something wholly unknown to her. The old fear and anxious worry of having him close had been replaced with something else, something different, something better. Just as Twilight was about to say something, Applejack emerged from the bathroom and she moseyed over to inspect the drinks.

“I found one bottle of Dim~Cola,” Seville said, his words a near-whisper. “Have you tried it?”

“No, I can’t say that I have,” Twilight replied.

“It’s… carbonated coffee with cloves, cardamom, and cocoa nibs. Like Dim himself, it is a love it or hate it flavour. I think it’ll make you feel better.”

“Sounds weird.” Twilight wasn’t quite sure what to think of the odd combination.

“I drink it when I’m under a heavy workload and need to maintain concentration.” Seville nodded in the bucket’s direction. “It has four times the caffeine compared to the other Princess~Colas and the xantheose from the cocoa nibs offers quite a mental jolt. It was formulated with Dim’s guidance to improve cognitive function.”

Applejack, completely unconcerned with things like brain function, pulled out a bright pink bottle of Cadance~Cola and then cracked off the bottle cap with her teeth, a truly impressive act. Sniffing the bottle, she moseyed off on three legs, muttering something to herself that Twilight couldn’t quite make out.

“It sounds as though you hold Dim in high regard.” This felt a little awkward and out of place, but this was just how things turned out sometimes. Friends came out of the bathroom during curious, intimate moments and strange topics of conversations happened.

“Oh, I do.” Seville swallowed and Twilight could see a lump bobbing up and down on his throat. “He’s my hero… but there is only one pony that I truly idolise.”

“Gosling?” For Twilight, this made the most sense. Seville was Gosling’s shadow. They were brothers by all but birth. Seville was Gosling’s most devoted supporter, and quite possibly his harshest critic. In truth, she was in awe of their friendship, and held it up as a fine example of what friendship could, and should be.

“No… no… I married her, and now I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Twilight’s cheeks blazed so hot that her mouth went dry. She heard Applejack chortling, but chose to ignore it. It was difficult to come to grips with, that some ponies idolised her—or worse, worshipped her. It was one part of being a princess that she had never fully come to terms with.

“I want to have foals just so I can tell them just how special their mother is. Both mothers, that is. A part of me is still having trouble believing this is real, and I keep waiting for Luna to catapult me out of this dream. I, uh, don’t exactly remember getting married.”

“Oh, that was smooth,” Applejack remarked from where she sat on the sofa.

With a quick turn of her head that left her dizzy, Twilight glanced first at Applejack and then at Seville. Sensing that something was going on, but not knowing what it was, she took a moment to try and make sense of this social situation. A flash of understanding struck, and like a thunderbolt striking a forest, it ignited a wildfire in her brain. Seville was flirting with her. He was doing the flirty thing that he did, that Applejack had mentioned. He was doing the thing that he did that she never noticed.

Oh!

“That was the smoothest segue into laying pipe into a princess that I think I’ve ever heard. I am in awe, Mister Orange.”

“It was pretty good, yeah.” Seville shuffled in place and his tail flicked from side to side. “Segue, Jackie?”

“I read,” an annoyed Applejack snapped.

Refocusing his attention, Seville faced Twilight. “We have the room until six and our train leaves at seven. Drink up, Twilight. We need you sorted out for the trip home. Maybe we should wake up poor Pinks, too.”

But Twilight wasn’t ready to talk about leaving. No, she had just been flirted with—subtle flirting, with skill and finesse. Seville had cleverly expressed an urge to procreate, and had done so with flattery. All in all, Twilight was astonished by what he had done and she wished to reciprocate.

“I can flirt,” Twilight announced, and then she immediately cringed just a little at how utterly unconvincing her voice sounded.

“Typically, one flirts before the wedding, Twilight, but now is a good time to start. I for one, would love to hear you flirt. I could even give you some helpful advice, depending on how bad this turns out. What’s a little critique among friends?”

Brows furrowing, Twilight cast a sidelong glare at her friend, Applejack.

“I don’t know about this, Twilight. You’re still hungover—”

“Seville, do you think I can’t flirt?” demanded Twilight.

He held up a hoof in a defensive gesture. “Now, I didn’t say that—”

“But if your flirting is anything like your dancing, we’re all in big trouble.”

“Jackie, I can’t even… I don’t know what to say.” Seville shook his head from side to side, snorting. “Jackie, ponies have feelings, you know.”

Meanwhile, Twilight seethed at her friend through bared teeth.

“Go ahead and give it a shot, Twilight.”

“This is an act that reeks of sexual desperation. Of all the things a husband will do to get laid—”

“Jackie, shut your pie hole!”

Snickering to herself, Applejack covered her mouth with one hoof and her laughter came out as hot, heavy snorts. Twilight understood that yet again, Seville and Applejack were having fun with one another in a way that she did not yet fully understand, but could still appreciate. Nopony wanted their husband and their best friends hating one another.

“Seville, you have a Pie hole that you’ll never want shut—”

“Jackie, why I oughta!” Seville shook his hoof at the apple farmer, who ignored him and his bluster.

“Huh, I wonder if Pinkie tries to talk with her mouth full—”

“Jackie… Jackie, you’re horrible. If this keeps up, Jackie, we can’t be friends.”

“Pinkie talks with her mouth full all the time.” When both Applejack and Seville started to laugh, Twilight knew she was missing the joke. Her hungover brain balked at this much thinking and she couldn’t remember what it was that she had been about to do.

“Okay, Twilight. Flirt with me. I’m over here, and you’re over there, so I think everything will be fine. Hit me with your best shot.”

Sensing snark, Twilight bristled a bit, but accepted the challenge. Later, the Snarkle Sharkle would come out to play, but for now, she kept it caged. She liked Seville’s sarcasm and his sass. He was playful—and this was good. She wanted him playful. He was always so studious and serious, for the most part anyhow, and she wanted to see the side of him that Pinkie saw.

“Seville… I want to…” Twilight discovered that she didn’t know what to say next. The characters in books said the most amazing things at just the right moments. All she had to do was lay out some creative verbs like brickwork and add some purple prose for flourish. How hard could it be? It was like playing mad-libs with Spike, but racy.

Undaunted, she tried again. “Seville, I want to ride you—” Abort! Abort!, her brain shouted. It was too late though, she was committed to this. What did she say next? Ride him like a pony? No, that was awful and cliché. In desperate need of a dramatic action, Twilight’s hungover brain scrambled to find a suitable series of words that captured the spirit of romance. “Seville, I want to ride you like a canoe around the bedroom.”

In response, Seville blinked, and Twilight sensed that everything had gone wrong.

“What,” she said, defensive already. “Canoeing is a perfectly romantic activity.”

“So wait, let me get this straight. By canoeing, does this mean that you want to do some paddling?”

“No!” Twilight blurted out and her ears burned up at the sound of Applejack’s bleating laughter.

“Because that is what one does; they go paddling around in a canoe.”

Jamming a hoof into her mouth, Twilight bit down.

“I’m not saying no, but this isn’t what I had in mind,” Seville said in a perfectly serviceable deadpan. “If our sexual adventures are going to involve wooden paddles, we’re going to need a safe word.”

At this point, Applejack was laughing like a hick while struggling to keep her soda upright. A full-body blush burned Twilight from hoof to ear and she couldn’t figure out how something as simple as flirting could go so horribly wrong. It was like Sweetie Belle trying to cook something. How could such a spectacular failure happen? Was she not capable? This was horrendously embarrassing and she wished that she hadn’t made the attempt. There would be no living this down. Somehow, she was worse at flirting than she was dancing. With her hoof still lodged in her mouth, she groaned.

This was a story certain to be told to friends and family…

Author's Note

Almost done.

Chapter 37

And so, it ended. At least, this felt like an end. Twilight could not help but feel conflicted about how this chapter of her life had ended. She had cemented her love with the time honoured tradition of marriage, and that was good. But in one night, she had also destroyed her public image—and potentially ruined her relationship with her mentor. She had saved this bake-off, this final bake-off that meant so much to so many, but this was not the end. Next year, there would be another bake-off; potentially the biggest, most important bake-off in all of Equestria’s history, but these too, were already embroiled in scandal.

It wouldn’t stop Twilight from following through with her vision. The ponies of Equestria all had their reasons for a bake-off, and she would provide the venue, the means. Was it a solution? That remained to be seen, but she did believe that this was a good start. A good cadre of reporters would need to be assembled, so that they could collect the stories, just as Seville had done. The stories would be important; determining the hows and whys, the motivations for what brought ponies together to bake, it might just be an excellent bit of fertile common ground. They all had their reasons and knowing these reasons might lead to a greater understanding.

“Boss…” Bundt Buttercream’s face had a sad smile, though her eyes were bright and cheerful. “It’s all over. Until next year. I should arrive in Ponyville next week and I guess we’ll sort out all those details left unsorted.”

This was a bittersweet moment; Twilight had made a dear friend, and had to say goodbye, albeit a temporary one. Still, goodbyes were always a bit sad. “Tell me, Miss Buttercream, has your cutie mark had anything to say about this? Have you had a chance to do any soul searching at all?”

“It’s funny you ask,” the pregnant mare replied. “When you went out on your night on the town, I did just that. The party got tiresome, my back started hurting, and I went back to our room. I spent a lot of time staring out the window and for the first time in my life, I genuinely, truly believed that I had a greater calling. I felt like I had a purpose… a meaningful purpose. Something that went beyond making ends meet and just paying the rent. Boss, I want to change the world.”

“It makes me happy to hear you say that, Miss Buttercream, because we’re going to change the world.” Contented in some indescribable way, Twilight heaved a sigh. “We still need to sort out your job title and description, but I’m thinking that you’re going to be my director. You have a love and passion for baking. You’re great with ponies and you have a lot of industry connections. You proved yourself and kept the show going here. No, more than that… you kept the show going through the worst of circumstances.”

Bundt blushed.

“I think our first official bake-off will be the worst,” Twilight continued, almost gushing from her own enthusiasm. “The papers are having a field day and twisting my words into pretzels.” Left eyelid twitching, she tried not to think of her own impending exile for the awful, awful things she had said about Celestia. “I expect our first effort to be quite trying. But once the real message gets out… once Equestria sees what we’re really trying to do, I think things will get better. At this point, I think words are worthless and we need to rely upon action.”

“Boss, I agree.” Bundt nodded so hard that her ears bobbed. “If we can’t convince them, we’ll show them! Also… I was kinda wondering if you were serious about that promise—”

“Which promise?” Twilight blinked in an apologetic manner for interrupting. “I apparently made a lot of promises, most of which I can’t remember. As my devoted assistant, you’ll have to help me keep track of these promises.”

“Oh.” Bundt Buttercream squared her withers, stood up as straight as her pregnant body would allow, and gave a nod. “Boss, you promised to build an enormous castle to house the future bake-offs. A place where ponies could come, gather, and stay. And you promised to make it look like it was made out of gingerbread. You promised free lodging so this wouldn’t become an activity for the well-to-do, the well-off, the wealthy, and the privileged.”

Ears sagging, Twilight quailed. So this is what the papers meant by the castle boondoggle that would waste taxpayer money. A promise was a promise, but this seemed to be a mighty unpopular promise that ponies were angry about. After wrestling with her uncertainty for a few seconds, resolve filled Twilight’s heart—resolve and defiance in equal portions.

“That promise will be kept,” said Twilight to her assistant. “If this is to be about equality and unity, then attendance must be made available to all.”

“Boss… we have our work cut out for us.” Bundt’s eyes became a little teary and she sniffled. “I look forward to making all of this happen.”

Extending her wings, Twilight pulled her devoted assistant into a warm, affectionate embrace. Bundt was a little bit weepy and Twilight was too. She squeezed Bundt as much as she dared, and after a moment, Bundt’s forelegs encircled around her neck. It was an immensely satisfying hug that held the suggestion of something more than friendship, something greater.

“Goodbye, Bundt.”

“Goodbye, Twilight.”

In a week or so, they would say ‘hello’ again…

Pinkie’s limp, straight mane didn’t bounce when she walked, which was somewhat unnerving. Twilight was still worried about the pink one and hoped that she would return to her usual bubbly, bouncy self. Other than the bluing of her eyes, she showed no other signs of recovery. Even in her condition, she was still the strongest of them though, and carried most of their gear, insisting that she be the one to do it.

It was one-hundred and nine degrees, which is what passed for a ‘cool’ evening here in Las Pegasus. It was still so hot that the tarmac was soft underhoof and standing in one spot for too long caused burnt frogs. The departure platform was packed with ponies leaving the bake-off, but none of them were standing still.

Twilight did not know how to feel. After all that had happened, she had no idea how to feel. She had arrived here as a single mare and was now departing as a married mare. Nothing made sense. Even the things she thought she knew she now doubted. She felt betrayed and was, herself, a betrayer. The unity and equality that she had been raised to believe in, she was no longer certain if it had ever existed. At least, not in the way she had been made to believe.

And the awful, awful things she had said about her mentor, blaming her for the problems that the little ponies had caused. Just thinking about it was enough to make Twilight cringe. Blaming Celestia for the failure of society was just unthinkable. Twilight most certainly would not want to be blamed for something she had little to no control over. Celestia was one of the most benevolent, most progressive rulers to be found in the world, one who struggled with the fine, fine line that existed between domineering authority and free agency. The ponies—the citizens—of Equestria enjoyed a sense of freedom that most of the rest of the world did not have. This freedom meant that they could act like jerks—but it also meant that extraordinary ponies could do extraordinary things that benefited the whole of the world.

Such was the cost of freedom.

The very fact that ponies chose to do good meant so much more when they had choice. Take that choice away and what was one left with? Applejack was a good pony with flaws, but she chose the path of goodness. Not every Apple did. There were a lot of bad Apples… even rotten Apples. Did Applejack stand out even more because she was good? Perhaps.

As Twilight grappled with with her difficult inner dialogues and thoughts, a pegasus approached. Armed with a camera and wearing a hat that had a press card tucked into the band, he drew close with Twilight failing to notice him. Seville did notice however, and he placed himself between the reporter and his princess.

“Hey, Princess, a word if you don’t mind?” the pegasus reporter asked.

“No,” Twilight replied, taking notice of the interloper for the first time. Scowling, she was in no mood to hide her resentment of the press.

“I’m from the Fillydelphia Free Union and I would like to ask you about your plan to return Equestria to a segregated society if I may—”

“No, you may not.” Sneering, Twilight turned one critical eye upon the pegasus reporter and thought about all of the really awful things that she would like to say right now. “I have no comment and no desire to speak to you.”

“Some advice,” Seville said to his fellow reporter. “Perhaps if you left bias out of it, and stopped digging for sensational headlines, maybe you and your career might get somewhere. Now piss off.”

Nostrils flaring, the pegasus, determined as he was to get a story, ignored Seville and kept his attention on Twilight. “Equestria wants to know why you’re tearing us apart after we’ve worked so hard to stay together. Everything in your drunken rant suggests major steps backwards… regressing society rather than advancing it. With Princess Celestia assaulting our wealthy, our captains of industry, and with you destroying our beloved unity, how are we, the free ponies of Equestria, supposed to defend ourselves from the nefarious machinations of our rulers? We’d be better off without you and I’m positive that the free ponies of Equestria agree with me—”

“We reporters are supposed to seek out stories, not make them up ourselves,” Seville said, planting himself between Twilight and the aggressive pegasus reporter. “Our job is to tell the truth, not manufacture it.”

“Look here, you Crown-sponsored shill, how about you step aside and let a real reporter do his job?” Extending his wing, the pegasus gave Seville a hard shove that knocked him into Twilight, and in her current hungover, weakened state, she stumbled a bit.

Before Twilight could react, Pinkie did. Moving faster than than the eye could follow, she rose into a bipedal stance. As graceful as any dancer, the portly ponk bounced from one hind hoof to the other, bobbing and weaving from side to side, a constant change of angles of approach, and before anypony could react, she brought her left front hoof upwards into a vicious uppercut that started down low, down near her gaskins, and collided full force with the pegasus reporter’s jaw.

There was a terrific sound as all of his teeth smashed together, and this, as well as the solid, meaty impact of Pinkie Pie’s uppercut, caused the crowd all around to freeze in place. The pegasus, struck by the forceful blow, was lifted right off the ground. He somersaulted in the air, flipping end-over-end at least three times, and then came down flat on his back upon the sizzling hot tarmac.

Beside his head, a lone tooth clattered to the ground and came to a bouncing stop.

“Move a muscle, and I’ll kill you,” Pinkie promised.

With a grunt, Applejack lept into action and snatched Pinkie from behind. The two mares struggled as Applejack tried to drag her friend away, but Pinkie, even in her greyed out, faded state, was stronger than the apple farmer by far. Bouncing and jiggling, Pinkie whipped her body around, with both their luggage and Applejack on her back.

“Holy alicorn shit, she’s strong,” Applejack said through bared teeth.

Twilight, recovering, felt something inside boil over. Pinkie, having returned to her senses, stopped trying to buck off Applejack and began backing away, a look of horror upon her face. Seville once more placed himself between Twilight and the now prone pegasus reporter. Applejack, perhaps realising that Pinkie had recovered her senses, slipped her forelegs around the pink mare’s neck to comfort her.

“Oh no, what have I done?” Pinkie’s words were a pained whine. “I didn’t mean to…”

Hearing Pinkie Pie’s pained voice was the final straw for Twilight Sparkle. All of her fear, doubt, and uncertainty manifested, as well as her rage, outrage, and bottled up emotions. Grinding her teeth, she failed to hold everything in, and suffering a moment of raw aggression, she rage-shifted into something truly terrible.

Colour bled away from her pelt, the pleasing purple taking on a dreadful bone-white ashen appearance. Her mane and tail ignited into curtains of flame, while her eyes turned into a baleful, infernal red, the very fires of Tartarus. She grew in size, her legs gaining length, her neck stretching, and her wings—now ablaze—sprung free from her sides.

Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t teleport you to the frigid vacuum of space and let you suffocate for the harm you have caused upon the ones I hold most dear to me!

The sound of Twilight’s voice sent the little ponies around her scrambling, including those most dear to her. Seville almost stumbled, but Pinkie snatched him up and ran away with him, with Applejack still clinging to her back. Twilight remained a seething caldera of rage and she towered over the prone pegasus, while the tarmac began to boil around her flaming hooves.

Before the last of Twilight’s self control evapourated from the raging inferno within her, she fought to regain her senses. She wanted this pegasus to suffer—the desire was all-consuming and difficult to back away from. Fearing that she couldn’t be trusted, that her control was no longer absolute, Twilight took a step backwards away from the flattened pegasus.

The gradual transformation to normality began to take hold.

Her mind racing, Twilight’s rationality struggled to reassert itself, and also her logic. Recoiling in horror, Twilight feared that her greatest weakness had just revealed itself in the worst possible way. Under most circumstances, she had her temper under control, but this wasn’t most circumstances. She had been emotionally battered, torn down, she was hungover, distraught—Twilight’s current self was completely unrecognisable from the mare that she was when she was at her best. Right now, she was at her worst.

Shaking her head, she heard the screams of terror all around her as the mob of ponies retreated for safety. They were terrified of her. Their princess. Their protector. Not only had she behaved badly while drunk, but she had done even worse while arguably sober. A hangover did not excuse this.

It was at this moment that Twilight understood the necessity of guards. Had they been present, this whole awful situation could have been avoided. Pinkie would have never been panicked enough to rush to Seville’s defense. Seville wouldn’t have been in harm’s way. This was just one more failure in a long, long line of failures, and Twilight felt her emotions curdle into something indescribably awful.

The gentle, considerate part of Twilight realised that her assailant’s back was being burnt on the sizzling-hot tarmac. Scowling, she lifted him from the ground and felt awful when she saw him unmoving, limp within her telekinesis. Wide eyed and terrified, he appeared as though he might actually die from fear. Little ponies could do that and Twilight, a big pony, could be utterly terrifying beyond mortal comprehension.

This was just one more mess to clean up, one more public failure that would haunt her.

“You’ve been nothing but trouble for the city of Las Pegasus,” the mustachioed police officer said to Twilight. “We’d appreciate it if you didn’t come back.” While he spoke, the pegasus reporter was loaded into an ambulance wagon. “Does this really need to be an assault on the Royal Family?”

Mindful of her temper, Twilight responded in a forced deadpan. “What else was it?”

“A misunderstanding,” the officer said while the wagon’s doors were slammed shut. “This reporter’s life is about to be ruined over a misunderstanding. That ain’t right.”

“I think I’m having a misunderstanding.” Twilight’s deadpan did not falter. “If my consort was a unicorn like you, would we be having this conversation? How is this a misunderstanding, exactly? Is my consort not entitled to protection from assault?”

“Hey” The officer pulled his sunglasses away from his eyes so he could look Twilight in the eye. “Look here, Princess… I’m sick of your privileged shit. Just who do you think you are, anyhow? Where do you get off accusing me of that?”

Sensing something dreadful beneath the officer’s sudden outrage, Twilight fought to keep her cool. He broke eye contact first, glancing away, and Twilight kept her focused, burning stare upon him. She stood there, trying to think of what to say, how to handle this with diplomacy, tact, and consideration.

“You came to my city,” the officer said in a low voice that was almost a whisper, while he kept his gaze averted. “You stirred up trouble. The calm of the city has been damaged. This morning, there were riots and protests because of what you said. As for you yourself, my downtown area has been utterly trashed. Ruined. Last night, my officers tried to contain you in the most delicate way we could, because we weren’t allowed to arrest you. You… you came here and you royally fucked my city over. The cost of your visit will be passed along to the taxpayers. So maybe this isn’t a misunderstanding… maybe this is just a message. Or just desserts. Maybe this is you getting a tiny sliver of what is coming to you, but nowhere near what you actually deserve.”

“I have a suggestion,” Twilight began in her most measured, most steady deadpan.

“And that would be?” the officer asked, looking Twilight in the eye again.

“That you shut your mouth and do your job. And maybe, just maybe, I won’t dismantle your career for what you just said to me.” Pausing for a moment, she ground her teeth together, while forcibly keeping her emotions held in check. “I do believe it would go quite badly for you if Las Pegasus suddenly became a part of my demesne.”

Backing away, the officer retreated with fear plainly visible upon his face.

Disgusted with everything, including herself, Twilight stood rooted to the spot. “I will see that the damage is compensated for and I will see to it that things are made right. I apologise for any trouble caused by my visit. Now, that reporter accosted my consort, and this came after being told no. Even after I expressed my intentions and made it clear that I wished to be left alone, that reporter persisted and my consort, Seville, was shoved. This wasn’t rivalry between reporters, or a spat between citizens—no, this was assault upon my consort… my husband. He was shoved hard enough that he fell against me, and I will not let this slide. If this is dismissed as a ‘misunderstanding,’ then there are sure to be even more ‘misunderstandings’ in the future. So a clear example must be made, right now.”

The police officer tossed a contemptuous nod in Twilight’s direction. “Yeah, whatever. Get out of my city so I can get back to work cleaning up your mess.”

“Gladly” The word was spat out with as much chilly sarcasm as Twilight could muster, but unleashing her inner-snark did nothing to make her feel better. With a wave of her wing, she dismissed the officer and longed to be aboard the train that would take her home.

The train ride was not the comfort that Twilight hoped it would be. She sat alone in her seat, with her companions sitting opposite of her, each of them still very much terrified. They clung to one another, trapped in a tiny enclosed space with a being who commanded the primal element of fire, something that appeared to be a pony, but wasn’t.

Twilight’s torrent of self-pity was now a flood.

What she wanted, what she needed, was comfort, but it seemed as though there was none to be had. Miserable, she turned away from her companions so that she could stare out the window, but there wasn’t much to see; just scrublands as far as the horizon. She was supposed to be securing the future, making it better, but it felt as though she had made everything worse.

Unable to bear the silence, and with nothing beyond the window to distract her, she turned her gaze upon her friends once more, and yet again, they shied away from her, clinging to one another in terror. How had things arrived at this point? Everything had been so hopeful, then so bleak, then hopeful again, and now, it felt as though everything was ruined. It felt so awful that Twilight was almost certain that her marriage was over, and she kept replaying the absolute worst scenarios in her head in an endless loop of self-torment.

“I’m sorry,” Twilight blurted out, unable to bear the silence a moment longer.

From her friends, there was no response. Their ears were pinned back, their eyes were wide, their pupils small, almost pinpricks, and Twilight was certain that she could hear their frenzied hearts pounding over the muffled clatter of the train. If she couldn’t fix this somehow, it would be a long, long ride back to Ponyville, and the castle was sure to become an awkward place if she and her consorts weren’t on speaking terms. The problem, as Twilight saw it, was that she couldn’t stop being a princess. There was no way to step out of this alicorn body to reassure her friends, to comfort them, to make things better.

Perhaps it was time to reconsider her stance on guards.

“I’m still me,” she said to them while fighting to keep her anger out of her voice. “I’m still Twilight. Things got tense. I lacked the situational awareness that I should’ve had… I’m still hungover, though that’s not much of an excuse. Everything that’s happened over the past few days… it’s been trying. It really has. My emotions are a mess right now. I’m still trying to sort everything out. I’m a married mare now. I finally got what I wanted all along and then those I love the most were in danger and things just happened. I’m sorry!”

For a time, Twilight was certain that she had just wasted her breath, but then Pinkie Pie’s ears pricked up. Though she was still frightened—visibly, very much so—the pink ponk left the warm security of her fellow earth ponies. When she drew away, they tried to pull her back, but Pinkie seemed determined on her course of action.

With but a few steps, she crossed the space between them and sat down beside Twilight. After sitting down, she scooted a little closer, then a little more, until at last she was touching. Reaching out, she took Twilight’s fetlock into her own, and gave it a squeeze. For some reason, Twilight thought of giggling at the ghosties, but Pinkie didn’t have a trace of a smile upon her lips, much less any laughter.

“You were even scarier than Nightmare Moon,” Pinkie whispered to Twilight. “But Nightmare Moon was a stranger, at the time. You… you’re my very bestest friend in the whole wide world… and then all of a sudden, you’re somepony else… somepony that swallowed up my friend and made them go away.”

“I’m sorry.” For a second, Twilight was sure that her heart was breaking.

“Are you Twilight again?” Pinkie Pie’s vivid blue eyes stood out in sharp contrast against her faded, grey-pink pelt. “My Pinkie Sense tells me that you’re not quite yourself.”

“Maybe… I’m not myself right now.” Twilight thought for a moment about how she had treated the police officer. “But I want to be me again.”

“It’s good to hear that, Twilight.” Pinkie edged a little closer and came to rest against Twilight. “There’s this weird magic coming off of you right now, Twilight, and it is really unpleasant. Right now, it feels like my heart is going to leap right into my throat and jump out of my mouth. If you could make that magic go away, I think it would be better for Seville and Applejack.”

Magic? Twilight took a moment to take stock of her senses. She wasn’t aware of any magic. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath while turning her senses inwards. What had she done when she had shifted? Perhaps the shift wasn’t responsible. Maybe her interaction with the officer had caused some involuntary reaction of some sort. Mood affected magic, she had learned this in Magic Kindergarten. And right now, her mood could only be described as soured.

“Something’s changing.”

Twilight did not open her eyes at the sound of Pinkie’s voice, but continued her inward search. Awash with self-pity, depressed, Twilight attempted to sort out the tremendous pile of emotions that had overwhelmed her. She was the Princess of Friendship; so why didn’t her friends like her right now?

Because you want to wallow in self-pity right now, and you don’t want to be comforted, her brain suggested. You want to continue being angry and distraught, so you have an excuse to keep wallowing.

Twilight cringed; even her brain, her innermost thoughts and dialogues were downright rude right now. Just as she was about to feel even worse about that, she caught herself and what she was doing. Fearing that she was mired, she gave Pinkie’s fetlock a squeeze, hoping that she could convey a sense of urgency, a sense of distress to her friend.

“I think I’ve hit bottom,” Twilight confessed aloud. “It feels like everypony hates me. I’m pretty sure that the future is ruined. I’ve said and done things I’m not sure I can fix. My reputation has been damaged. I caused riots. Instead of harmony and order, I’ve sown discord. Everypony hates me. I’m no longer welcome in the city of Las Pegasus. How can I do my job as a princess if I’m not wanted in a city? Right now, I’m so miserable that I want to dig my own grave and bury myself in dirt.”

With the last word spoken from Twilight’s mouth, the oppressive atmosphere in the private cabin dissipated. Seville and Applejack both relaxed and sat blinking, confused, as if they had just recovered from some kind of fugue. With Twilight’s admission, the spell, whatever it was, had broken. She had her friends again, but she felt no better. If anything, she felt worse. Having spilled out the contents of her heart, she felt even more mired in misery than when the oppressive silence held sway.

“I wasn’t sure if I could overcome… whatever it was I had to overcome,” said Pinkie into Twilight’s quivering ear. “That was super hard. But I saw that my friend needed me and so I had to do something.”

Twisting her body about, Twilight wrapped her forelegs around the pink mare beside her and almost crushed her in a desperate embrace. Squeezing her eyes shut, Twilight engaged in a powerful struggle to hold back the tears. A moment later, there was another warm body groping her from behind, and she knew that it was Seville. Then, she felt another embrace her, and surrounded by her friends, Twilight let go.

“I think”—these words were accompanied by a hoof grazing along her neck that left chilly tingles dancing the entire length of Twilight’s spine—“that you and I need to find a way to laugh.”

“Laughing feels impossible right now,” Twilight said to Pinkie.

“Ah, but that is when laughing is most important.”

“Pinkie, I don’t think I can laugh right now.”

Like a pony drowning, Twilight clung to Pinkie as if she was a floatation device. She was certain that she had pulled herself out of the mire of self-pity, because she felt even worse for Pinkie now than she did for herself. Pinkie had harmed another pony and this would weigh upon her mind for the longest time. She would hide it, of course, but Twilight would know it was there.

“You could try flirting again, Twilight—”

“Applejack… no.” Pulling Pinkie even closer, Twilight groaned and this was followed up with some self-indulgent cringing. “That won’t make me laugh.”

“I bet it would make Pinkie laugh though, and that’s important.”

Still cringing, Twilight allowed herself to feel annoyed at Applejack’s logic.

“Twilight flirted?” Disappointment could be heard in Pinkie’s voice. “How bad was it?” Was it like her dancing?”

“Worse,” Applejack replied.

“Hey...” Twilight’s monosyllabic utterance crept out as a nasal whine.

“Pinkie, Twilight wants to do some paddling in the bedroom.”

Pressing her muzzle against Pinkie’s neck, Twilight wished the universe would open its entropic maw and swallow her. Seville was a horrible pony. Wiggling her backside, she tried to push him away from her, but this backfired, and caused parts of them to shift closer together. She wanted to be miserable, but her friends were making it really hard to do right now.

“Oh.” Pinkie sucked in a deep breath before she kept going. “Oh, I see. I suppose we can try a little paddling to see what that does for us.”

“Twilight said she wanted to ride Seville around the bedroom like he was a canoe. And Seville asked Twilight if this meant that she wanted to paddle him.”

“Oh… that… that…”—Pinkie seemed to be stuck stammering for a moment—“that is bad. A canoe? Really? If Twilight and I rode Seville around the bedroom like a canoe, one of us would be sitting on his face, right? That’s perverted.”

Every muscle in Twilight’s body went tight and she longed for a state of nonexistence.

“You know, I’m okay with this arrangement.” Some of the confidence and reassurance had returned to Seville’s voice, and he seemed a bit more like himself. “Pinks, you keep comforting that end, and I’ll comfort her from behind.”

“Hey,” said Applejack, who also sounded a bit more cheerful, “that was a good one.”

It was hard to cringe, blush, and be miserable all at the same time, But Twilight did her best. Her interaction with the police officer lingered in her thoughts, as did her reaction to the reporter. The public would not forget these things, and the spectres of her actions would haunt her for the longest time.

“Seville, you’re the boniest canoe. I swear, it’s like snuggling with a washboard.”

“Hey, what’s the big idea!”

“Seville, right now, It’s like I am cuddling with a saw.”

Twilight told herself this wasn’t funny and desperately clung to her misery.

“It’s a shame,” Seville said while redoubling his grip around Twilight’s middle. “The unicorns and pegasus ponies got the best princesses. But I, me, myself, being the earth pony that I am, I got stuck with the worst princess. The shortest, smallest princess, with the stubbiest horn—”

“Hey!” Twilight called out in protest.

“We earth ponies get stuck with the worst of everything.”

“I know, Jackie, I know.”

“Hey!” Twilight squirmed to sit up and her eyes fluttered open. “That’s not funny! That’s not funny at all!”

“Pinks, you and I got the throwaway princess.”

“The one who wrecked Las Pegasus,” Pinkie added.

“No!” Twilight writhed between her mates, but had trouble disputing what they had said.

“Goose and Shining got the beautiful, willowy princesses. The leggy princesses with slender, graceful forms—”

“Seville!” Twilight twisted herself around to face him. “I’ll have you know that I pride myself on my sturdy build, you… you… you… you creep!”

“Cadance once described your body-type as a foal-freighter—”

“She what?!” Twilight had turned around so much that Pinkie was behind her, and Seville was in front of her. She sat with him, nose-to-nose, not at all minding the closeness. “Did she really say that?”

“She said that and a whole lot more.” Seville’s brows furrowed when Twilight’s lips brushed up against his own. “Cadance was swine-drunk at the time and she started telling us all embarrassing foalsitter stories about an annoying little purple punk that made it difficult to make out with Shining Armor.”

Twilight made a noise that was one-third groan, one-third moan, and one-third giggle.

“See, that’s the thing, Twilight. Ponies say and do stuff when they’re full to brimming with drink. Goose does it. I do it. Cadance does it. Shining Armor once strutted through the Grand Galloping Gala with a lampshade on his head—”

“I heard about that,” Twilight said while she settled and made herself comfortable against Seville. “It doesn’t make me feel better, though. I’ve done much worse than wear a lampshade over my head. I’m not even sure if I’ll still be a princess once I get home.”

“I don’t think it works that way.”

“Yeah, Seville’s right.” Applejack reached around Seville so she could caress Twilight’s cheek. “Celestia’s not the sort that’ll throw away all the good work you’ve done just because you wrecked Las Pegasus.”

“I still want to hear Twilight flirt—”

“Ugh, no. Pinkie, I’m not cut out for flirting.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” replied Pinkie, with a great deal of insistence in her voice. “Having spent so much time around Tarnish and Maud, I’ve become a connoisseur of fine flirting.”

“Pinkie, that makes everything even worse.”

“Twilight, maybe try thinking of some poetry. Something real poetic-like. Luna’s started writing erotic poetry again, just like she used to do way back in the days of yore. Maybe you’re not a sexy flirter, or a clever flirter. Maybe, since you come from Luna’s lineage, maybe you’re a poetic flirting-type.”

Once, Twilight had tried to read one of Luna’s books on poetry, and she had made it about five or so pages in before having to abandon her efforts. With every act described, the love, the passion, the wooing, her brain had conjured vivid mental images of Gosling and Luna. Hours of cold showering and babbling to herself had done nothing to relieve her traumatised brain.

And that was only the section on limericks.

“After scaring us to death, you owe us—”

“Pinkie, that’s unfair!”

“What’s unfair is, your body is coming up with new and creative ways to keep us from cheering you up or lifting you out of your depression. What was up with that magic, anyhow?” Pinkie delivered her words with a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “How are we supposed to battle your mood-magic, Twilight?”

The question made Twilight’s face contort into an unpleasant grimace.

“Go on, Twilight,” Seville said, his snoot now pressed against Twilight’s twitching ear. “Maybe try a little poetic flirting. I give you my word, I will not laugh.”

“You promise?” Tilting her head, Twilight gave her husband a dubious glare.

“Look, I want to show you what I can do when I don’t have whiskey dick. So I have good reason to keep my promises.” Seville’s words caused Applejack to start chuckling, and he elbowed the mare behind him.

“You’ll get no such promises from me, Twilight.” Applejack slapped Seville’s ribs for elbowing her, but there was no malice in the action, only affection. “As for Pinkie, she needs a laugh. It’s like priming the pump, so I reckon.”

“Go on, Sugar Sparkle.”

The way Seville gazed into her eyes left her feeling emboldened. Poetic, even. Twilight was great with poetic language, and she had the graded papers from school collected in a folder to prove it. If she flirted and failed, it would not be the most embarrassing thing that could happen with Seville. They were married now. Sharing a bathroom. Things would happen. Sexy things would happen, and those held the potential for all manner of embarrassment.

Closing her eyes, Twilight tried to think of her most poetic, most beautiful thoughts, but it was hard. There was a lot of clutter in her mind right now, a lot of junk. Plus there was the matter that Sevilles assets pressed tight against her thigh, and that was distracting. It was rather like having a sack with two juicy oranges stuck between them.

This thought did not help Twilight’s sense of poetry at all.

Always helpful, her brain tried to remind her that this was one of the worst days of her life. In response, she thought about how she had woken up married to two wonderful friends. In a rather cruel reversal, her brain helpfully reminded her how it came to be that she woke up married, with a night before that she could not remember. Annoyed, Twilight mentally suggested that her brain go fornicating in a direction that led away from her.

When insulted in such a way, Twilight’s brain played the Ace of Spades and reminded Twilight that she would shortly be a fornicator; a foreign body belonging to a stallion would soon be inserted inside of her body, vigorous thrusting would take place to engage the application of friction, and this act would continue until an explosion of biological proportions happened, thus leading to the making of funny faces, along with a disgusting mess that would require an immediate change of the sheets.

With an awkward aftermath to follow, no doubt.

If there was poetic beauty to be found in all of this, Twilight wasn’t sure what it was. Still, she was willing to give it a try, now that she was married. Ponies spoke favourably of the activity and even did the deed for recreational purposes, so she supposed that she owed it to herself to find out what the big deal was, before dismissing it for being gross.

“Seville, I want to forge life upon the anvil of your loins.”

Nothing happened, at least, not right away, but Seville’s expression went blank. The corner of his mouth twitched, one ear stood up while the other ear fell over, and whatever his reaction was, Twilight found that she could not read it at all. Perhaps she had said the most beautiful, most profound thing he had ever heard, and he was stunned by the poetic beauty of her words. After the dreadful day she had endured, a little bit of optimism was in order.

“Seville, speak to me. Cousin… can you hear me?” Applejack gave Seville a gentle shake, but there was no response. “Cuz… are you there?”

Twilight wondered if she had stunned him with her poetic purple prose.

“So… Twilight… what you’re saying is…” Pinkie’s words slipped out in a hesitant, cautious manner, and clutching at Twilight, the pink mare shivered. “What you are trying to say is that you want to smash our husband’s junk with a great big hammer—”

“No!” Twilight blurted out as the horror of what she had said dawned upon her. “No! No! No!” Panicked, she shook Seville. “I didn’t mean it! I don’t want to forge life upon the anvil of your loins! I take it back!”

“Seville, shrug it off! She didn’t mean it!” Applejack gave the stunned stallion a hard shake.

“What’d I do? What’s wrong with him?” Twilight pressed her right front hoof into her cheek and smooshed her own face in panic. “What went wrong?”

“Oh, it’s fine, Twilight… every husband wants to hear his wife say that she wants to crush his balls with a hammer—”

“I never even said hammer!” Twilight’s words were muffled by the hoof pressed into her cheek.

“Twilight, what else do you do on an anvil?” asked Applejack while she pulled Seville away from the mare that just waxed poetic about gelding him with blunt force trauma.

“I’m never drinking or flirting ever again! How is it that I can be not-perfect at things?”

There was a whoosh from Pinkie, followed by a great sucking sound, and a startled Twilight jerked around in her seat to see what was going on with the mare behind her. Pinkie’s barrel expanded to what had to be twice it’s normal size, her eyes crossed, and every hair in her mane contracted into a compacted mass. The pink ponk exploded with laughter; a terrific whoop came barreling out of her like a cannonball and her mane exploded into a mess of curls that threatened to take out Twilight’s eyes. Colour returned to Pinkie Pie and the sound of riotous laughter filled the cosy, compact private cabin.

Pinkie Pie laughed so hard that she oinked—she became Pinkie Pig, snorting and oinking while clutching at Twilight. Seeing Pinkie in full colour again—glorious, oversaturated pinks, Twilight was so overcome with relief that she didn’t care that Pinkie was laughing at her disastrous attempt at flirting. There was such marvellous comfort to be had, such consolation. Reaching out, Twilight embraced Pinkie Pie and huggled her as hard as she dared.

There were few things in life as precious as Laughter.

Her barrel heaving, Twilight clutched Pinkie Pie and tried to control the sudden rush of emotion. But then, with the pink ponk jiggling against her in the most confusing, most distracting sort of way, she realised the mistake that she was making. Now was not the time to rein in her emotions, no; now was the time to let them happen, unfettered.

Twilight laughed.

But she cried too.

Terrible things had happened, dreadful things that would linger in her thoughts. But good things had happened to. Wonderful things, even if she couldn’t remember what some of those things were. There was a lesson here, and she owed it to herself to take it to heart, whatever this lesson was. Clinging to Pinkie, Twilight laughed and cried at the same time, her conflicting emotions all converging into an experience.

“Did it work?” Seville’s voice was cautious.

Turning her head, Twilight peered through bleary, teary eyes, and though she made a valiant effort, she could not bring Seville into focus. Reaching out with one foreleg, she hooked it around his neck so that she could draw him in, and then crushed both he and Pinkie together in her terrific, constrictive embrace.

“I thought that maybe if I played it straight we could get Pinkie to laugh,” he said as Twilight squeezed. “Pinks, are you yourself again?”

“I love you both.” Twilight struggled to say the words and her barrel shuddered with emotion. She tried to say more, but no words would come, only hitching sobs that wracked her with enough force to make her wing joints ache.

“Welp”—Applejack pulled away with a smug, self-satisfied grin on her face—“this is a mighty fine outcome, made all the better by the fact that I was right, and Rarity owes me a hunnert gold bits. A mighty fine outcome, indeed.” Leaning back, she turned away from the trouple and gazed out the window, perhaps watching as the stars twinkled in the advancing shroud of purple dusk.

Author's Note

Epilogue will be up soon.

Epilogue

At long last, Twilight Sparkle was free of her dreadful hangover. She had gone to bed a troubled, fretful mare, and had woke up feeling whatever it was that passed as normal. What was normal? She was a married mare now and the future of Equestria was a great, pressing weight upon her back. Mistakes had been made and consequences with uncertain outcomes loomed over her head like ominous, threatening thunderclouds.

What was normal, anyhow? At some point in her life, Twilight was certain that she knew, but now, as she rode on a train that carried her home, she doubted if she had ever been normal. She had been born noble, birthed from an exceptional, fabled bloodline. Every advantage, every privilege, every conceivable means of ensuring her success had been thought of. This was not normal.

Normal ponies struggled; they fought for every good thing they had in their lives and experienced great loss at every turn. They dreamed of success, of finding some clever way to achieve the impossible. The bake-off had been the battleground of what was normal, the field where many gathered to strive against the bonds of mediocrity.

Pinkie Pie had gone with a hope and a dream, no doubt longing to rise above, and Twilight knew that her very existence had overshadowed all of that. Her best friend’s victories were barely noticeable in the chaos that had unfolded. Pinkie had achieved what was a major accomplishment for her, but for Twilight, who had been distracted by everything else, it almost seemed an afterthought.

She felt terrible and would have to make up for it somehow. Pinkie deserved recognition for her accomplishments. She had made the best wedding cake in show and the most artistic dish in show, but these things—these momentous things—had been swept up in the chaos when the center began to unravel.

Rocked into a comforting lull by the swaying of the train, Twilight thought of what Applejack had said about this being the most normal thing she had ever done in her life. She had gone to Las Pegasus and had an… experience. Married while blackout drunk. Disgracing and shaming herself. She had utterly destroyed her credibility and good standing. Her reputation had been tossed into the gutter.

Yet, for whatever reason, some still believed in her.

“To avoid trouble,” said Twilight to her companions, “I’m going to teleport you home because I think it is best if we avoid the train station. There are bound to be reporters there, waiting for a scoop. Seville, Pinkie, I’ll be sending you to the castle… our castle… I guess… that feels weird to say. Applejack, I’ll have you back in Sweet Apple Acres in no time. As for me, I have to go to Canterlot to face the music. I have to hold myself accountable. Once I’ve done that, I’ll be home and we can sort everything out that needs sorting.”

“Are you sure you want to go alone?” Seville asked.

Twilight glanced at the earth pony sitting beside her. He had bedhead and his bright, cheerful green eyes were easy to get lost in. Before she made her reply, she turned away. “It’s best if I go alone. Celestia and I will need to talk. I won’t give her a chance to hold me accountable, because I plan to make it clear from the beginning that I’ll be doing that myself. I’m not sure how, though.”

“Twilight…”

“Yes, Pinkie?”

“Remember this one thing, Twilight.”

“What’s that, Pinkie?”

“Celestia is, first and foremost, your friend. Surely that can be counted on.”

Twilight was uncertain. Things had been said. Awful things. And those things had been printed in the papers. She had said stupid things, stupid untrue things that in her current sober state-of-being, she could not bear to think about. The parroting of common idiocy that came from those that didn’t have one iota of understanding about how things worked, or what Celestia protected them from. Just thinking of these words left a bad taste on Twilight’s tongue.

“If things do somehow go catastrophically wrong,” Pinkie said while pressing her hoof up against Twilight’s scruffle, “fall back on the old standard of offering her godmother status. She likes that… she finds it touching. If we have to, we’ll prey upon Celestia’s sentimentality. That’s her weakness, you know.”

“Pinkie, that seems so—mmmph!”

Now Pinkie’s hoof was pressed against Twilight’s lips. “Celestia is not our primary threat, Twilight. Trust me. I don’t know how much time we have, so we’ll need to prepare as much as possible. As soon as you get done sorting things out with Celestia, come home. Every second matters. This is a crisis unlike any other.”

“Pinks, just what are you going on about?” Seville lowered his newspaper and peered at the pink ponk over the top edge. “Is this that Nightmare Spoon thing you keep going on about?”

Reaching down with her free hoof, Pinkie Pie rubbed her plush backside and nodded.

“You’re a silly pony, Pinkie Pie,” Seville said as his face disappeared behind his newspaper.

“For once, it’s not me.” Looking pleased with herself, Applejack stared out the window and after sighing, she added, “Who’s not a silly pony? Applejack, that’s who.”

“Seville…” Pinkie’s words held an uncharacteristic solemnity. “Our only option might be for you to fronk a foal into me in a hurry.”

Again, Seville’s newspaper dropped and he squinted in disbelief at the fretful pink mare.

“The Element of Fertility is Nightmare Spoon’s only known weakness. It might be the only way to stop her rampaging destruction.” With one hoof still pressed against Twilight’s lips and the other rubbing her chubby backside, Pinkie Pie squirmed in her seat. “My Pinkie Sense is going crazy… it’s like we’re getting closer and closer to some great danger… some unspeakable evil. This might be the end of us.”

Ignoring Pinkie’s panic, Applejack chuckled, reached over, and pulled Pinkie’s hoof away from Twilight’s mouth. “Twi, I have a present for you. Some time back, when Rarity and I determined that sooner or later you and Seville would get hitched to the same wagon, I put aside a cask of my namesake in the cellar. It’s been aging for a few years now and probably has some real potency, if you get my meaning. I had plans to present it to you during your royal wedding, but I think it’ll do fine for the honeymoon.”

“Really, Applejack? More drinking?” Then, after a moment, Twilight reconsidered. “That’s actually really sweet of you, thinking of my future like that. I’m touched.”

“It might make your nuptials a bit easier, if’n you catch my meaning. Just enough to relax ya… but you don’t have to get hammered. I want you to be happy, Twi. I want your marriage to work. Mine didn’t. I married for all the wrong reasons, such as he was available, and he had a handsome enough face that I reckon that I didn’t mind looking at it when I first woke up, and there was the fact that he was hung like a firehose.”

A fierce blush crept up Twilight’s neck.

“Those aren’t good reasons to marry, Twilight, and I paid for it, I reckon.” Reaching up, Applejack pushed her hat back away from her eyes. “But you… you done lucked out. You’ve got you some helpers for your great work. Just the right ponies for the job, I reckon. The perfect ponies for the job. They’re your friends, Twilight. One of them is the only pony who can deal with your depressive states and the other shares your eggheaded ways. The only way this can go wrong is if you make it go wrong. What I’m trying to say is, this can only go right. So, drinks are on me, Twilight Sparkle. I wish you a long, prosperous, and happy union.”

“Thank you, Applejack.” Twilight wasn’t sure what else to say, but she felt that more words were definitely needed. “Bring Big Mac and Sugar Belle over and we’ll do married ponies stuff… whatever that might be.”

“That”—Applejack paused and her green eyes twinkled—“is mighty kind of ya.”

“We could form a bowling league,” Seville said from behind his newspaper.

“That’d be all kinds of fun.” Applejack grinned a sincere grin and the warmth in her expression rivaled that of the sun shining through the window.

“My Pinkie Sense is driving me crazy… it’s almost as if the danger is right there in Ponyville!”

Twilight manifested in a crackling shower of aetherfire sparks and as she folded her wings against her sides, she took stock of her surroundings. Gosling stood nearby, and even with her impaired vision, she could see the smirk upon his face. Not far away from Gosling was Radiance, who stood balanced upon a large ball. This was a curious sight and she found herself immediately distracted by the earth pony colt with rubbery, wobbly legs trying to remain upright on top of a ball that looked as though it belonged in a circus.

“Look what we have here, small colt of mine. Behold the radical that would bring ruination to us Royals.”

Twilight cringed so hard that there was a squeak.

Saying nothing else, Gosling advanced and with his every step, Twilight marvelled at just how large and imposing he had become since his ascension. He was the largest of the alicorns by far, though Shining Armor had a far, far sturdier, stockier build. But Gosling was intimidatingly large, a graceful, beautiful creature made of legs, neck, and wings, in very much the same way that Celestia was legs, neck, and wings. Gosling was Celestia and Luna’s counterpart in every conceivable way.

At this moment, Twilight felt rather small and insignificant.

Before she could react or respond, Gosling swept her up in his immense wings, lifting her from the floor with no discernable effort. He smelled a bit like celery soda and colour crayons. Squirming, Twilight wasn’t sure why she wanted to slink away, but this affectionate greeting was almost unbearable when she was expecting a lecture.

“Celestia said that you’d appear here,” he said while squeezing. “She said that you always appear here when you arrive troubled. I think it has something to do with the stained glass reminding you of your triumphs.”

Upon hearing this, she went limp in his embrace, but hardly dared to breathe.

“I’m really very happy for you,” he whispered to Twilight.

Then, without further ado, he gently placed Twilight back down upon the floor.

Recovering herself, Twilight let out a huff of relief and gave herself a shake. Radiance was looking at her, watching her, while also struggling to maintain his balance. She glanced around the room, which was more of a long hall, and her eyes went from stained glass window to picturesque stained glass window. Many of them were images of her and her friends.

“I have to know, what’s the deal with Radiance?” Extending her left wing, she pointed at the precariously balanced colt standing atop the large, colourful ball.

“Oh, him.” Gosling rubbed his chin with the knuckle of his wing. “He’s convinced himself that he’s going to be a circus pony. Right now he’s working on balance. He goes everywhere by rolling himself around on that ball and he’s stopped talking for the most part, because for some reason, he thinks circus clowns are silent.”

“Oh, he’s confused with mimes,” Twilight replied.

Gosling shrugged his wings. “That’s what I think as well.”

Scrunching his face, Radiance gave them both an exaggerated scowl.

“Don’t you even give me that kind of look, you stinky little tail-fluffing hooligan!” Waving his wings about in a crazed manner, Gosling advanced on his son, menacing him like some giant maniacal bird of prey. “I bet a little tickle would give you a real test of balance!”

“No!” Radiance howled as he ran forwards, which caused the ball to roll backwards. “No! Stay away! No! I’ll fall! My hooves haven’t touched the floor all day!”

The colt’s panicked reaction was a bit too much, and he leaned too far over to one side. When he tried to fix his balance, he overcorrected and took a tumble towards the hard stone floor. Mere inches from disaster, Gosling caught his son, lifted him aloft with a clumsy tug of telekinesis, and stood him atop the ball. Before dimming his gleaming white horn, he made sure that Radiance had found his balance once more; it was then, and only then, that Gosling let go.

“Nobody saw that,” Gosling said. “We’re going to pretend that my son wasn’t about to eat the floor and get yet another bloody nose under my watch. We’re going to pretend everything is fine and good.”

“I ain’t sayin’ nuttin—”

“Radiance, don’t talk like a hooligan, you’ll give your mothers fits.” Folding his wings against his sides, Gosling turned to face Twilight once more. “Did you see anything, wife of my best friend?”

“Nope.”

“Good answer. That’s what we like to hear around here in Canterlot Castle. Full cooperation.” Gosling’s eyes narrowed. “You’d better be good to my best friend.”

Before Twilight could respond, Radiance blurted out, “Good save, Dad. You didn’t almost crush me into goo this time.”

“And that’s important,” Gosling said to his son while keeping his eyes on Twilight. “I’m no good at this magic stuff—”

“You stink on ice—”

“Radiance… so help me… I just saved you from eating the floor! Show some gratitude!”

“You saved yourself another lecture about being an inattentive boob,” the colt retorted.

Astonished, Twilight blinked once, twice, and thrice. Was this normal?

“He’s gonna kill me for saying this, but Seville has been carrying a torch for you for the longest time. Let him be good to you. Also, being a good leader means delegation of responsibility and stepping back so they can work unhindered. Let Seville work for you. There’s a lot of work to be done.”

“Work?” Twilight’s eyebrow arched and she had the feeling that Gosling knew something she didn’t.

“Seville attends the morning intelligence briefings. He knows policy. Both he and I, we were schooled in the art of rule together. Looking back on it, it was good having a classmate, but beyond that, I can see why this was arranged. It was done with the future in mind.” Gosling cocked his head off to one side in a birdlike manner. “These alicorn senses are something else, ain’t they? Just the knowing of stuff. Eh, anyway... Seville knows the nuts and bolts of running an empire. You make sure that you take advantage of that.”

“I will.” Feeling nervous, but also relieved, Twilight sucked in a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then let it all out in a slow huff.

“Princess Celestia will see you now.”

The sound of Raven’s voice almost caused Twilight to jump right out of her skin.

“Just for your own sake, Twilight… I would avoid the Royal Treasury Department for the foreseeable future.” Raven’s voice was calm, cool, and held no trace of emotion. “Your picture has replaced Blueblood’s on the dartboards. I’m a little miffed with you, actually. Blueblood prided himself on that honour, and you callously took it away from him in a single trip to Las Pegasus. He is… distraught.”

Dejected, anything and everything that could droop on Twilight did.

“Millions, Twilight. Millions. And this is before the tabulated costs of damages to the city of Las Pegasus and the construction of a gingerbread castle.” Raven clucked her tongue while shaking her head from side to side. “I can almost sympathise with those anal-retentive weirdos in the Royal Treasury Department.”

“Ugh!” Twilight ground her teeth together and wondered what Celestia would have to say.

“Twilight is a bad pony,” Radiance remarked.

“Yes she is, Radiance, but then again, so are you, and we love you anyway.”

“Is Mama going to lecture Twilight?” the colt asked, somehow balancing while studying his serious-faced father.

“I think Twilight is going to lecture Twilight,” Gosling replied, “and Mama is going to listen and nod her head in that annoying way she does.”

“Oh.” Radiance visibly cringed. “Good luck, Twilight.”

“Yeah, good luck, Twilight.” Extending one wing, Gosling offered a jaunty, but sincere salute.

“I want those requisition forms in triplicate.” Raven stood stiff-legged and ramrod straight with her ears forming fine spear points. “And if there is so much as a smudge I’ll require a resubmission of all forms. Now get in there, Twilight. Celestia is a busy pony.”

Head held low, Twilight headed for the huge double doors…

Princess Celestia’s throne room was not as Twilight remembered it. The walls were almost bare, the fabulous rugs spread over the floor were gone, and the opulent furnishings removed. Where beautiful tapestries once hung, there was now only barren, blank space. In the middle of the room, Twilight came to an almost stumbling stop while rubbernecking to take everything in.

“You took from me a most valuable servant.”

These were not the words she expected from Celestia and Twilight, in a fit of anxious worry, chewed upon her bottom lip. To be honest, she wasn’t sure what she expected, not at all, but this showed that Celestia had very different priorities, no doubt due to her untold centuries of exceptional rule. Valuable, exceptional servants only lived for so long and Celestia could only get so much use out of them before they grew too old to serve.

“You took from my offspring their beloved uncle,” said Celestia, who stood rooted to the spot.

Caught off guard, Twilight could say or do nothing in her own defense.

For the first time since entering, Twilight noticed that Celestia was just as bare and plain as her throne room. No crown, no regalia, not even her golden shoes. It was rare to see Celestia in such a way. Each piece was fraught with meaning, had a history, and symbolised some great aspect of her rule.

The crown symbolised the tribe of unicorns, for theirs was the right to rule. Twilight could not help but see this symbolism in a different way now, an unpleasant way that left her more than a little cringy with shame. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of her own birth culture, but she was disturbed about the long-held belief that it was their birthright to rule over others.

Four golden shoes came from the pegasus ponies, a symbol of peacetime. Gold and silver were soft precious metals, thoroughly unfit for war. Not a shoe meant for kicking, nor fighting, nor the conquest of continents. Iron and steel were the shoes for war, and Celestia had long worn gold as the symbol of her reign.

As for the peytral, it symbolised the strength of the earth ponies and the power of their chieftains. Only the biggest and strongest among them could stand with such a weight around their neck. A symbol of uncontested strength, it was also a yoke of bondage, as earth ponies had a long heritage of civil service.

“I’m sorry,” a thoroughly unnerved Twilight blurted out. “I never meant those things I said… I… I… I can’t even imagine me saying them. I’m sorry for all of the things I’ve done! I know I’ve messed up, and I’m sorry. I really, really am.”

Celestia’s only response was a cool gaze.

“I messed up and I ruined everything. Look, I understand if you’re angry. I’m kinda expecting that. If you are trying to find a gentle way to relieve me of my duties, don’t bother. I don’t deserve that. Say the word and I’ll step down. I’ll spare you the headache of a public announcement and I will castigate myself in front of the ponies of Equestria for you.”

Celestia slid into smooth movement like a swan slipped into water. Such grace and majesty, such fluidity, such beauty; Twilight knew that she lacked such grace, she lacked the legs and the delicate, slender form. Unable to look, unable to bear such majesty bearing down upon her, Twilight Sparkle squeezed her eyes shut while fighting back the sobs that wracked her body.

The soft, tickly embrace of downy wings wrapped around her, and with them, an almost furnace-like warmth. For the second time this day, Twilight was lifted from her hooves. Sniffling, she squirmed, because somehow, this was even worse than being chewed out. Being chewed out would be a relief; it would ease up the pressure and then she could move on.

“This is the hardest lesson to learn,” whispered Celestia to Twilight. “But one that, for you, was sorely needed. I’m proud of you.”

“Proud of me?” Twilight’s eyes fluttered open, revealing a world that had turned white and feathery. She squirmed, trying to wiggle her body around to have a better look at Celestia. “How can you be proud of me?”

“Because it was time that you learned how to rule with ponies who truly hated you.” Smiling, Celestia placed Twilight down and when the smaller mare’s hooves were flat on the floor, the larger mare took a moment to caress Twilight’s cheek. “For too long, you’ve laboured to be everypony’s friend, Twilight. This is not a bad thing. It has served an admirable purpose. But now, other things are expected of you. Great things. And for this, you must be a ruler—not a friend to the ponies of Equestria.”

“Expected of me? Great things?” Twilight blinked upwards at Celestia and noticed that her eyes were different. “I’m so confused right now.”

“I am effectively abdicating—”

“You can’t!” Twilight cried.

“But I must, Twilight.” What Twilight saw in Celestia’s eyes was sadness, terrible, crushing sadness. “I can’t be a mother, fight a war, and be the ruler Equestria needs. I thought I could, but I cannot. I will still be the princess that the little ponies expect me to be in image only. As of right now, I am passing the rule of Equestria to you, Cadance, and Shining Armor. Luna and I must concentrate our efforts upon the war. If we do not, we will lose. Equestria will fall. Everything we know and love will burn.”

Stupefied, Twilight continued blinking while her jaw hung slack. To hear Celestia say such things was disconcerting. She struggled to process everything that had just been said and her mind recoiled in denial. Shaking her head from side to side, she wanted to say no, but the words would not come. After just shaming herself in Las Pegasus, she was not fit for rule.

“I am finally in a position to do great things for the world,” Celestia said in a low voice that held an uncertain, perhaps fearful waver. “For so many years, I ruled alone. With few I trusted. I saw that the world had problems, but there was little I could do. Luna was gone. I had to pick my battles carefully. I had to pick and choose my engagements. Worst of all, I had to allow bad things to happen so I could keep Equestria safe.”

Twilight backed up and while retreating, continued to shake her head from side to side.

“But now, I finally have those I can trust. Gosling rules Canterlot and maintains the inner circles of power. The nobles flock around him and the old ways are experiencing a revival. I have Cadance, and Shining Armor has finally come to his senses. As for you… you have learned a great lesson, and I feel that you are truly ready. I worried if the Princess of Friendship could endure being hated. I must confess, I had, and still have, some grave concerns. But you will survive this. Equestria has a friendship problem, Twilight, and this is your expertise, not mine.”

“How do I get started?” There was a faint squeak when Twilight recoiled in horror from the betrayal of her own mouth. How could she say that? Those were not the words she wanted to say, not at all. She just kept getting herself into trouble and she hated herself more than a little bit at the moment.

“I’m so glad that you asked, little Twilight.” Though sadness remained in Celestia’s eyes, her expression was now amused. “To start, make allies with Bourgogne Blintz—”

“Wait, what‽”

“She is a powerful cult of personality, Twilight. The two of you have something in common… a shared common ground, if you will. Both of you left Las Pegasus humiliated and shamed. She could be an enemy, Twilight… or an asset. I have dealt with her on a number of occasions and she possesses a number of qualities that make her exceptional. Waste not an asset, Twilight.”

Eyes narrowing, Twilight stared up at her mentor with absolute disbelief plain upon her face.

“Don’t let her become another Mariner, Twilight. Surely by now you’ve learned of the plight of the earth ponies. Let that lesson sink in. They are arguably our strongest asset, but also our greatest threat. Their discontent reaches unfathomable levels and to be quite honest, I’ve been living in fear of a major fracture for quite some time. Mister Mariner, the threat that you saw and that I failed to take seriously, he harnessed that discontent. If you don’t do something, somepony else will also harness that discontent, and that somepony might very well be Bourgogne Blintz. A harnessed earth pony can do nothing but pull, Twilight. It is in their nature. The smartest among them will know their own inner nature better than anypony else and will know how to exploit it.”

Grim acceptance settled into the lowest reaches of Twilight’s thoughts. She studied Celestia’s face, trying to read the ancient visage, but with her current eyes it was difficult to translate. This felt difficult, though not impossible. She had made a mess and now she had to clean it up. Her public image had been damaged, but not destroyed. It could be repaired.

“Keep your promises, Twilight. Even if they are bad promises, you should keep them. It is better that a ruler keep a bad promise than break it. Somepony I know recently reminded me about promises.” Celestia stared down her muzzle in a meaningful way at Twilight. “In fact, in an effort to keep my promises, I realised that something had to give. The promises I make to my foals are just as important as any other promises I make.”

“Understood.” Twilight nodded and felt a little pride. She had been the one to rake Celestia over the coals about promises. Thinking about her mentor’s words, she understood that by keeping awful promises and living with the consequences, she would be more careful about the promises she made in the future. This could work out. So this meant that there was a massive gingerbread castle in her future.

“Twilight… there is a matter I am hesitant to speak of, but that I am somewhat upset about…”

At first, Twilight’s ears pricked, but then almost right away they fell into a submissive position. Here it was, the lecture she had been waiting for. Leaning forward, eager, she awaited the verbal destruction that she most certainly deserved.

“I am an old mare,” Celestia began, “who is set in her ways and prideful. I am fully aware that it could be my undoing, and I’m getting better about it. But you… you destroyed something very dear to me—”

“I destroyed a lot of things and I’m so sorry!” Dropping her head down, Twilight pranced in place and felt a most delightful, welcome sense of panic. The catharsis she needed was about to happen. At last, sweet, sweet accountability.

“You destroyed my record. I’m pretty sure of it. The Royal Archivists are checking, because we used rods back then and have different measurements now.”

Confused, Twilight lifted her head and blinked, because she had no idea what Celestia was speaking of. “Uh…”

“”Don’t you ‘uh’ me, you little twerp.” Eyes narrowing, Celestia’s demeanour shifted to something far more aggressive. “You know what you did. That was supposed to be an impossible distance. I cannot let this slight stand between us. There will be a reckoning.”

So this is what it felt like to be an equal. It meant being subjected to the full brunt of Celestia’s ire. Nope, Twilight didn’t like it at all and she longed to a return to the good old days, when she was the student and Celestia was her mentor. Back when ire was measured carefully and doled out in teeny, tiny little pony sized servings. She still wasn’t sure what Celestia was so upset about, but it had to be bad. Right now, it felt as though she was about to get a sunburn just from Celestia staring at her in such a manner.

“For months and months I trained my bladder, Twilight, knowing that I had to impress the soldiery and improve morale during those harsh winter months. Two full rods, Twilight. Two full rods. Enough to clear the sandpit where fights took place. It was a record that no mortal pony could ever hope to match.”

Suddenly, Twilight understood what she had done to tweak Celestia’s nose.

“Oh… you know, you smarmy little purple pisser.” Leaning her head down, Celestia placed her muzzle next to Twilight’s ear. “I will get that record back, see if I don’t.”

For lack of a better response, Twilight gulped; it was her only course of action.

“I can’t remember how long a rod is,” Celestia whispered. “It’s been a very long time.”

Sixteen and a half feet, Twilight thought to herself. Some of the shame of what had taken place in Las Pegasus was replaced with pride—terrible, dreadful, awful pride. Celestia’s sudden chortles jolted Twilight from her thoughts, and turning her head, she looked up at her former mentor, longing for a return of the days when they were student and teacher, apprentice and master. The glorious days when mistakes weren’t so costly.

“This is a happy moment for me.” Celestia pulled her head away and the sound of feathers against a silken pelt could be heard by Twilight. “I have long dreamt of you getting married, Twilight. For many reasons, mind you. Not just for the sake of your own happiness, but so that you might have a rich, rewarding, fulfilling life. And now here you are. Soon you will go home and do what married ponies do… and I dare say that you will become fixated with that aspect.”

A wordless squeak escaped through Twilight’s tight-pressed lips.

“Oh, trust me, you will. And being an eggheaded, scholarly sort, you will approach it with the scientific method in mind, and you will treat it as a time of discovery. For this, you will need somepony to talk with. I sincerely hope that the somepony you share these moments with happens to be me.”

Mortified, Twilight longed for a cool breeze for her burning body.

“Equals talk to one another about these things, Twilight, and I long to be equals.”

“O-o-okay,” Twilight stammered.

“This was your final test… and one I hoped that you would fail.” The mirth vanished from Celestia’s face. “I must confess, I had to work very hard to rig the game so that you would fail. In this instance, failure was success. You might’ve gone to Las Pegasus and had a very normal, boring time, the sort of time that you tend to have, and then nothing would have been accomplished. Nothing would have been learned or gained. But now look at you. Down here on the bottom with the rest of us… publicly hated. Despised, maybe. And it’s not the end of the world!”

“No, no I suppose it isn’t.” Perplexed, Twilight pondered the nature of a test where the only success was failure. She thought of her encounter with the police officer during her final moments in Las Pegasus. “I guess this somehow proves that I am ready to rule Equestria in your stead?”

“Very much so, Twilight. Try not to burn it to the ground while I am busy saving it and the world. One day, it is my hope that when all of this is finally over, you and I might share an equal sense of rule. Together. That is, perhaps, the most perfect form of friendship.”

“My eyes have been opened,” Twilight said whilst she drew closer to Celestia. “I had this moment of perfect understanding. What if I bring a disadvantaged foal into this world? I started to wonder how I would protect them and I freaked out a little bit because I knew at that point that I was oblivious to so many of these problems and I couldn’t even save my friends when trouble happened. I felt so weak, worthless, and blind. I felt so… inadequate. On stage, I had this moment of absolute clarity… that I’m not sure if I can put into words.”

“And that, Twilight, was the moment that you were finally ready to rule in my stead.”

“But I don’t have the answers… I haven’t got everything sorted out yet. I’m still confused by everything that I’ve just found out existed—”

“Yes, my beloved dear one… you have gained awareness. Cadance, being a powerful empath, developed it early on. Too early, perhaps… it caused her a tremendous number of problems and I suspect that it stymied her development for a time. She became aware of too much, too soon, before she was ready to deal with it, to process it. You on the other hoof, you have come into this awareness at the most perfect moment in your life. Twilight, you do your best when you learn as you go. Trust me when I say, you will sort all of this out, make sense of it, and you will pick up all of the pieces, put them together in a way that makes sense, and you will make for a fine ruler that allows Equestria to prosper.”

A great weight settled upon Twilight’s back, but an even greater one could be felt upon her head. Though she wore no crown at the moment, she was keenly aware of its existence. Her life was no longer her own, but Equestria’s—and that was fine. After a lifetime of preparation, this was fine. This was just another project—life was a series of projects—and she allowed herself to feel confident about the situation.

“Go home, Twilight. Make memories. Settle in.”

That was it then. The lecture that Twilight came for wasn’t going to happen. Tilting her head, she looked up at Celestia, who was looking down at her. No crown. No regalia. No vestments of rule. A throne room that was almost empty. While Twilight wanted to go home, she had a few final questions that she just had to ask.

“This room”—Twilight made a sweeping gesture with her wing—“what will become of it?”

“It will be repurposed into my war room. A place of command.”

Twilight nodded and could not help but feel a little sad. The most important space in Equestrian politics was being repurposed as a war room, a place where violence was planned out with scholarly efficiency. She would have to entertain supplicants in Ponyville. Allowing that many strangers into her castle… she would need guards. Upon thinking of this, Twilight heaved a sigh.

“And what of Equestria’s final royal asset? I was mentioned, along with my brother, Shining Armor, and Cadance. What of Dim? I would be remiss as a ruler if all assets were not accounted for.” Twilight saw a troubled look upon Celestia’s face, but only for a moment, and then it was gone, replaced by a marble mask.

“The less I tell you about Dim the better,” Celestia replied. “His work demands secrecy. You will get a compendium of classified information for your careful perusal, but not in this realm. I fear that no place is truly safe from scrying eyes.”

“Understood.” Twilight nodded while saying the word.

“Anything else?” Celestia gave herself a shake and had a bit of a shiver, a common reaction when Dim was mentioned.

“Am I allowed to destroy Equestria’s dependence upon a monetary system? There is an illusion that needs to be dispelled. We’d be better off without it.”

Celestia’s expression became rather deadpan. “And replace it with what? No… no, now is not the time. We’ll discuss this later. For now, please, please, do not burn Equestria to the ground for the sake of change. Little incremental changes are good. Society destroying changes are bad.”

“Fair enough.” Twilight rather enjoyed Celestia’s reaction, and she smiled.

“Go home, Twilight.” Celestia’s deadpan expression turned gentle.

“Before I go, I think I need one final hug…”

With a burst of brilliant magenta light, Twilight winked into existence into her own private apartment within her castle. The study was dim, lit only by a few glowing artifacts in display cases, and everything was just how she had left it. She was almost certain that she would find Seville here, because her study was his favourite room.

Twilight left her study, headed down the hall, and stuck her head into the parlour. Nothing. The lights were off, the room was dark, and the only sound was the ticking of the massive mechanical clock. Pinkie Pie liked the parlour because it was a great room to entertain guests. It was a warm room of great comfort and Twilight was surprised to find that it was empty.

Hearing a faint sound, Twilight’s ears pricked. The dining room? That made sense; when ponies were hungry, they ate. Clearly, somepony must be hungry. Maybe Spike made nachos. Now, Twilight found that she was hungry, and licking her lips, she headed off for the dining room, hoping that there was something to eat.

Throwing open the ginormous double doors, the first thing that Twilight saw was Spike cuddling with their mother. Then, Twilight’s brain registered that her mother, Twilight Velvet, was visiting. Beside her mother was her father, which seemed logical and right, but also horrible and terrifying. Sitting beside her father, Night Light, was Maud Pie, and beside Maud…

“Twilight, we’re busted.”

“Sit down.”

Whirling about, Twilight discovered Cloudy Quartz behind her. How? She began backing away, fearful, terrified beyond reason. With every step that Twilight took, Cloudy advanced. For a moment, Twilight thought about spreading her wings and asserting her princessly dominance, but then she realised just how much of a bad idea that was.

“I believe I told you to sit down,” Cloudy said. “Just who do you think you are, making my daughter drag our good family name through the mud?”

“Uh…” Twilight swallowed, licked her lips, and wanted to look for a chair but didn’t dare take her eyes off of the advancing mare that was now also her mother. Cloudy was scary; there was something vaguely magical about it but Twilight couldn’t discern what it was, though she had sensed similar magic coming from Lemon Hearts.

“What were you thinking, behaving in such a manner?”

“Pinkie slipped me some mead with a potion and that made me go loco in the coco—”

“Oh.” Cloudy froze and stood stiff legged. “Is that so, Pinkamena Diane Pie?”

“Way to throw me under the wagon, Twilight.”

Something brushed up against Twilight and she almost jumped right out of her skin. When she turned around, she almost smacked into Tarnish. He said nothing, but herded her towards a chair, inserting himself between her and Cloudy, a risky thing to do. Upon reaching her chair, Twilight sat down and then had a look around the table. Seville was sitting between Octavia and Vinyl, holding little Alto Clef in the crook of his foreleg. Sly Pie was colouring on the floor. Of Pebble, there was no sign, but Twilight guessed that she was with Sumac.

“We’re missing some parents,” Twilight said, hoping to somehow postpone her impending doom.

“Bitter Orange and Citrus Blossom will be arriving shortly. We’re having them flown in.” Twilight Velvet smiled and gave Spike an affectionate squeeze. “And once they arrive, we’ll be sorting out this marriage issue.”

“Oh.” Twilight slumped over in her seat, but she didn’t dare sass her mother.

Cloudy stormed off, her hooves striking the floor like hammer blows, and she sat down beside her husband, Igneous, who was drinking a mug of something hot. Twilight, glancing over at Spike, felt a little envious. Spike was her dragon; she had raised him from an egg. Unsure of how to feel about everything, Twilight took a deep breath and had a good look around.

“Welcome home, Twilight,” Maud deadpanned. “We’re thinking of having my sister’s name changed to Mud. Mud Pie. Fitting, don’t you think?”

Saying nothing, Twilight poured herself a cup of tea, added far too much sugar, and tossed in a wedge of crystalised lemon. Her gaze came to rest upon Seville, who was making gookie faces at little Alto. Hearing what sounded like an angry intake of breath, she turned to look at Cloudy, who was getting shushed by her husband.

Twilight deserved this. In a way, this was just what she needed; a family that loved her enough to hold her accountable, and what a family she had now. Seeing Spike and her mother together, Twilight’s heart softened a bit and she somehow relaxed just a little. Feeling a light touch, Twilight turned to look at Tarnish and saw an expression of gentle affection on his face, as well as one of understanding.

“It gets better, Twilight,” he whispered. “Cloudy was certain that Pinkie would be the one that would give her the chance to have a big lovely wedding. A mother has dreams. It’s funny, Twilight… Maud and I eloped… and yet Maud has these dreams about Pebble having a lavish wedding. She and her mother have a lot in common now. One day, you might as well.”

This struck Twilight with terrific force and she sat blinking, unsure of how to respond to it. Screwing her courage to the sticking place, Twilight knew what she had to do to make things right. Clutching her fetlocks together, she twisted around in her seat so that she might face Cloudy.

“Cloudy”—the word came out raspy and far too scratchy, but Twilight continued—“would you see to it that I get a proper wedding? Something grounded in earth pony tradition? It would mean a lot to me.”

The room went silent and Twilight went from dry to parched.

With a single eyeblink the hard, stony expression on Cloudy’s face softened. The mare’s stern, flinty countenance turned maternal. Twilight could feel her own mother’s eyes boring into her, and her father’s as well. Tarnish touched her again, but she did not turn around, she did not break eye contact with Cloudy.

“You would let me do that?” Cloudy asked.

“Yes,” was Twilight’s response.

“I’m sorry that I was cross with you.”

“I think it’s kind of warranted, actually. I never meant to drag the Pie name through the mud. I never meant to take away your chance to give your daughter the wedding she deserves. I didn’t mean to do a lot of things that happened recently, and I would like a chance to make things right. I am fully aware of the fact that I made a mess. Now it is time to settle down and face the consequences.”

Cloudy’s lower lip protruded in a thoughtful expression.

“You and Pinkie could make a wedding cake together. She’s really good at it, I have proof.” Ears perking, Twilight knew that how she smoothed this over was now a test of princessly aptitude. She could just banish everypony from her castle to get the peace and quiet she so desperately wanted, but that would accomplish nothing. Here, she had a chance to be diplomatic.

“Very well, I accept your peace offering.” Cloudy’s ears splayed out sideways and she turned to look at Twilight Velvet. “Are there any unicorn traditions that we could mix in?”

“Perhaps.” Twilight Velvet now wore an amused expression while she continued to cuddle Spike.

Smiling, Twilight relaxed a little. “Cloudy, I look forward to making things right with you.”

Author's Note

And so, it ends, with future uncertain.

Chapter 12

The lounge was crowded, but not unbearably so, just uncomfortably so. It was packed with groups of ponies doing exactly what Twilight and her companions were doing: supporting a friend in the competition. While there were a number of joyful smiles to be seen, there were far, far more tearful faces, those with broken hearts who failed to qualify. Twilight felt bad for them, but Pinkie Pie was first and foremost on her mind.

“Here,” Pinkie Pie said to Bundt while putting the remains of the lemon cake down upon the table. “You’re eating for three. Have some cake! Happy not-yet-birthday to the twins and I hope for your sake that there are some not-yet-birthdays to follow!”

Twilight cast a sidelong glance at Applejack only to discover that Applejack was doing the same. Together, they shared a moment of intense disappointment while Bundt—who was, indeed, eating for three—began to savage the cake carcass. So much could be said with just the eyes and Twilight, for her part, could almost hear the profanity in Applejack’s forlorn, crushed expression.

Somehow, Bundt’s orgasmic response to the lemon zinger cake only made things worse.

“Everything went just as planned,” Pinkie Pie announced while she flung herself down into a super-futuristic shaped plastic chair molded to fit the equine body. Reaching up, she rubbed her forehead with her foreleg, closed her eyes for a moment, and drew in a deep breath, which she held for a while.

It all came out in a rather loud huff.

When Applejack sat down in one of the curiously shaped chairs, Twilight then decided to do the same. She could feel herself being sucked in and when she settled back, she could feel a whoosh of air around her sides when she slid into the contoured cusp of the curvy chair. It was an odd sitting position and Twilight was forced to cross her legs in a ladylike manner to prevent certain things being exposed to the world. Somehow, the uniquely shaped chair was even rather comfortable with wings, which was a pleasant surprise.

They were pressed against her body, but not crushed.

“The judges were a bit brutal this year,” Applejack said, mostly to herself. “They just walked right on by a lot of stalls without even stopping to have a look. It was as if the food wasn’t worth noticing.”

“I think this is the biggest and most packed it’s ever been,” Pinkie Pie replied, joining in Applejack’s conversation with herself. “This is the last one, so it is one for the history books. Everypony wants to say they were here when it ended. I’m just glad that my cake got noticed.”

“It’s impossible to ignore.” Applejack cast a heartbroken glance upon Bundt, who was licking crumbs and glaze from the plate. “What are ya shootin’ for this year, Pinkie?”

The pink pony did not respond right away, but settled back into her chair so she could have a good chin rub. She sat there, thoughtful, her eyes distant, and there was a faint sound that could be heard as her hard hoof circled her fuzzy chin. After a moment of silence, she replied, “If I can hit three-hundred points somehow, I qualify for special show ribbons. I’d be happy with that, I think. Something tells me that I don’t have a chance of hitting the five-hundred required to be considered as the big winner. I’d like a special show ribbon… as a keepsake, you know.”

“That’s a hundred points a day for three days.” Applejack’s eyes narrowed and reaching up, she pushed back her hat. “Today, you started with fifty points. Three-hundred might be possible, I dunno. You’d have to have a strong blue chip run, with maybe a few silvers or a gold if you can swing it.”

“I’ve never got a gold chip.” Pinkie Pie sighed, a wistful sound, and both of her front hooves came to rest upon the generous curve of her stomach. “Going home with a gold chip wouldn’t be so bad. I’d have it framed. And brag about it. Oh, that’d be great.”

“Pinkie… want some honesty?”

“Sure, why not? You have some to spare, Jackie?”

“Pinkie Pie… you come from a provincial backwater. Presentation is never an issue in Sugarcube Corner. Ponies just eat whatever’s put in front of them. You’ve never had to struggle with presentation ‘cause it doesn’t exist where we live. Now, Manehattan and Fillydelphia and the big cities, they got them there rich and fussy ponies. And any baker who comes from those cities will be focusing on style and presentation. Style over substance, and all that nonsense. That is your competition. That lemon cake was a wakeup call.”

“Hmm.” Pinkie Pie closed her eyes and her head tilted back until it came to rest against the top of her chair.

“That’s gonna be your ruination,” Applejack continued, “and I don’t know how to fix it, because style isn’t something you can summon up at the last minute. It’s an art, you gotta learn it and it takes making a lot of mistakes before you get it right. That gold chip you want represents perfect presentation and perfect product.”

Twilight worried that Applejack was too honest, but Pinkie didn’t seem upset.

“I’ve been around the very rich and exclusive. The crap they eat is terrible and there ain’t ever much of it on the plate. So odds are, Pinkie, you’re gonna be in a strong blue chip competition with those who have amazing presentation, but terrible product. But if you can step up your game just a tiny bit somehow, without making a mess of things, I think a silver chip or two is possible.”

Swiveling her head, Twilight focused all of her attention on Applejack and raised an eyebrow. There were moments, like now, where Applejack was far, far smarter than anypony gave her credit for. Perhaps a better term was canny. Applejack had been competing all her life in everything from bake-offs to rodeos—but mostly rodeos—and she knew how to size up the competition. Applejack knew how to eke out a win when doing so didn’t seem possible.

“I’m hungry,” Bundt announced, her face covered in stickiness. “And I gotta go potty.”

A weary Seville dropped his bags upon the floor and then clambered into the booth to sit beside Twilight. Because they sat in the rear corner, nopony seemed to mind the pile of gear dropped on the floor, or perhaps it was princess privilege—it was impossible to say. Twilight, glad to see him, slipped her forelegs around him, pulled him close, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

He took off his faded green fedora and with a flick of his hoof, tossed it atop his bags.

“Twilight has a new assistant,” Pinkie Pie said to Seville while he got settled.

“Miss Buttercream, a pleasure to see you again.” Seville’s half-smile did delightful things to his face, things that made Twilight’s heart feel racy.

“Pleasure is all mine, handsome,” she replied in her silkiest voice.

“Pinks, I heard it said you got a blue chip.”

“You heard right.” Pinkie’s head bobbed with eager excitement and this made her curls dance.

Wasting no time, Seville began reading the menu laid out in front of him while Twilight leaned a little bit closer to him. On the other side of the table, Applejack too, was reading her menu, while Pinkie Pie continued to bounce in place, causing the bench seat to creak a bit. Bundt Buttercream, who sat between Pinkie Pie and Applejack, rubbed her rotund, rounded tummy with both of her front hooves.

“Hmm, breakfast is always available,” Seville muttered, reading aloud. “This is why I like diners. This Celestia Early Bird special sounds right up my alley.”

Twilight pulled away from Seville just a bit, so that she could look at him better. “I was just thinking about the Luna Night Owl special.”

“Dollface.” Seville’s left eyebrow raised and both of his ears stood up. “The Night Owl’s eggs are hard boiled and it comes with, and I quote, ‘a generous helping of beans, the protein you need to get you through those long nights.’ You eat that and we’ll be up all night listening to you playing a horn solo on the tuchus trombone.”

Mouth falling open, Twilight reached out and gave the earth pony beside her a gentle shove while the three mares across the table began to giggle. Twilight had second thoughts, but her own eyes narrowed into thin slits when she realised that the Celestia Early Bird came with a bowl of oatmeal… which meant that nothing was safe.

“Twilight does not have a breakfast, but Cadance does.” Ears rigid, Pinkie Pie stared down at the menu on the table. “Cadance’s Breakfast For Two… I could eat that all by myself.”

“What would a Twilight-themed breakfast be like?” Applejack asked.

“No”—Twilight held up her hoof—“there is no need to discuss that.”

“Cadance’s breakfast comes with wheat-meat sausages, enough to stuff your empty holes—”

“Pinkie, that’s lewd.”

“It’s right here on the menu, Jackie!”

“I know, I see it, still lewd. Poor Cadance. Everything has to be all sexual—”

“Jackie…” Seville leaned forwards and rested his forelegs on the table. “Have you met Cadance? She’s made out of pink fluff, sweetness, and innuendo.”

Applejack’s deadpan expression fractured, and she grinned, her green eyes twinkling with mischief. “I had ya going!”

“Damn it, I can never tell when you’re serious, Jackie.” With a resigned sigh, Seville leaned back against the plush cushions behind him and shook his head. “It’s a low down dirty shame too, ‘cause I make my living reading ponies.”

“Sap,” Applejack said to Seville.

“Eh, don’t rub it in or I’ll run a promotional piece about the health values of pears—”

“Now that’s just fighting dirty. This is why we Apples and Oranges keep fighting. Why you gotta go for them there low blows, Seville?”

Twilight, fearing it was serious, was about to intervene when Seville and Applejack both burst into laughter. Biting her lip, she said nothing, but gave thought to the fact that she didn’t always understand her friends. They had different friendships—some of which were downright antagonistic—and this made it difficult to know when the fighting was real or faked. There were times though when Seville and Applejack acted like bitter rivals, which Twilight found immensely distressing, but nothing was ever said. Applejack and Seville were entitled to their own brand of friendship, however weird it might be.

“What would a Twilight-themed breakfast be?” Applejack asked again.

Twilight, squirming in her seat, realised that she was going to have to bear this somehow. Applejack was just too stubborn to let this go and she would not give up until she was satisfied. Feeling self-conscious, her innards squirming with tension and anticipation, she waited for her friends to have their say. This could get roasty…

“Pancakes.” Applejack banged her hoof down upon the edge of the table and made everything rattle. “Twilight loves pancakes… with anything and everything on them.”

“Twilight loves cake almost as much as Celestia loves cake.” Pinkie’s tone was one of affectionate teasing. “Being a Pie, it’s hard to get Twilight’s attention sometimes.”

Chuckling, Seville said, “I don’t mind a little pie for breakfast.”

Across the table, Pinkie giggle-snorted while covering her face with her hooves.

“It’s fruit and grain. Oatmeal has fruit and grain. Well, sometimes. So why is it that oatmeal is good for you but pie is bad?” Seville folded his forelegs over his barrel. “Oatmeal has a better publicity agent than pie does, I’ll say that.” The stallion’s eyes went shifty and then in a low, low whisper he added, “I like to take in my grains in liquid form. Gin makes for a fine breakfast.”

“I don’t mind a nip of my namesake in the morning.” Applejack’s lips pulled back into a broad, tooth-revealing grin. “I have been known to indulge. I catch heat from Big Mac though, who worries that I’ll turn into a lush.”

A bubblegum-chewing unicorn mare approached the table, stopped, and pulled a pencil out from behind her ear. Though only noonish, she appeared tired, dead on her hooves. “Welcome to the Perky Pegasus Pony Diner, where our specials will leave you on cloud nine.”

“Cloud nine…” Twilight’s lips puckered thoughtfully. “Of the ten cloud types, cloud type nine, the cumulonimbus, is the floofiest, poofiest, most comfortable of clouds, according to pegasus ponies.”

“I hate my job,” the gum chewing waitress deadpanned.

Taken aback, Twilight wondered what she had done wrong.

“I’ll take the Celestia Early Bird special,” Seville said. “Also, I’ll take that with a half-a-dozen bricks, a half-a-dozen sinkers, a puddle of cat’s eyes, a side of fried bad breath, and as many mugs of murk as you can bring me.”

“Somepony is hungry,” the waitress deadpanned. “These mares must ask a lot from you. Especially that one. She looks like she’s a goer.” Her eyes darted off towards Bundt’s direction and then returned to Seville. “How you want your sweepings, sugar?”

“Everything under the sun,” Seville replied.

“Given your circumstances, I take it you like your eggs fertilised.” The waitress smacked her gum, waiting, while Bundt started to titter. “And before you ask, no, you can’t slip me a tip.”

“Sunny side up is fine.” Reaching up, Seville smoothed back his mane and then gave the waitress a calm, cool stare.

Across the table, Pinkie Pie was gnawing on her hoof to keep from laughing.

“Fertilised?” Applejack snorted and rolled her eyes. “I can’t get Hubby here to swing open my cellar door since we picked up the young one here. He just stays parked all up in her back forty.” She made a gentle nudge with her elbow against Bundt’s ribs. “It’s been so long my hinges are rusty. Why, I’d love to have my eggs fertilised. But after having all those foals, I’ve been put out to pasture, so I have. Ain’t got no grip left.”

Twilight realised that something was going on, but she wasn’t sure what. She felt uncomfortable, without knowing why—intensely so. The feeling was made so much worse by the fact that she was obviously missing something, like a joke she didn’t get, only this was no joke—this felt dire and unpleasant.

“Yeah, whatever.” The waitress popped her gum, rolled her eyes, and pressed the tip of her pencil into her notepad. “Every year, it’s the same old thing. You earth ponies come in here with your herds and run me ragged. What’ll it be for you, hun?”

Guts clenching, Twilight now had an inkling that something was wrong. Seville was being a gentlepony about it, but Applejack… Applejack was being antagonistic. Slowly, it dawned upon Twilight that an assumption had been made—a gross assumption—and she felt a cold, chilly prickle down in her dock.

The first wave of panic broke over her like an incoming tidal surge and Twilight felt her frogs go sweaty. Pinkie Pie and Bundt Buttercream were laughing—they were laughing at this joke made at their expense, this gross assumption. It was one thing to giggle at the ghostie, but to titter at the tribalist? As Twilight broke into a cold sweat, her appetite departed and she felt sick to her stomach. She needed air… she desperately needed air and to be away from this stressful situation before the panic overcame her completely.

With a worldless cry of panic, Twilight thought of her room as hard as she could, then vanished.

Author's Note

Google 'diner lingo' if you are completely lost.