My Big Fat Griffon Wedding

Gabby grunted as she lifted a heavy canvas bag and tossed it on a table. THUMP! The sturdy table creaked slightly under the weight. The little griffoness wiped the sweat from her brow and glared at the bag with an uncharacteristic scowl.

“Boy! I REALLY hate this time of the month!” she muttered.

The last week of each month was the time griffon merchants and trade creatures sent bills to their clients. The post office was brimming with letters, but none would bring happiness. There would be cursing, crying, and accusations of robbery. A few would even throw things at the mail carrier. Gabby had become very adept at avoiding the various missiles irate griffons could launch.

Sighing, she opened the bag and began sorting the letters by streets and branches. Envelopes addressed to the rich griffons on the plateau were dumped into a smaller bag to be sorted later.

“Okay, West Bend,” Gabby muttered to herself as she read the address. “East Branch…Dairy Lane…Potter’s Field Avenue…”

DING-DING! The bell over the front door rang, making the griffoness grit her teeth in annoyance.

“Hello!” a familiar voice called. “Is anyone here?”

Gabby’s mood immediately perked up. “Cinnamon Roll?”

She ran to the front counter to see the brown filly smiling at her. A small brown package sat on the counter along with a little Bundt cake covered in stringy brown icing and cradling what looked like three rainbow-speckled eggs! Cinnamon Roll pushed the cake towards her. “This is for you!”

Gabby’s eyes lit up. “Oh, my gosh! Thank you! You made this yourself?”

“Yup. I got the idea from Gallus. He said the cakes looked like little nests, so I just ran with it. Making the eggs was the hard part.” she admitted. “Gulliand had to help me shape them, then we iced them and rolled them in sprinkles.”

“Wow!” Gabby pressed her talons to her chin till her feathers fluffed. “They are amazing! These will definitely sell at the market!”

“Thanks! I also have a package I need to send to Ponyville,” Cinnamon added, tapping the brown package. “I got a present for my little brother. It’s a little figurine made of bone. I think he’ll get a kick out of it.”

“I’m sure he will,” replied Gabby as she weighed the package and applied the postage. “That will be two bits.”

Cinnamon paid the fee. “Are you doin’ alright today? You looked a little ruffled when you came out.”

“Yeah,” Gabby sighed, her happiness deflating. “It’s bill time. The time of month every business in Griffonstone demands payment of some kind. If there is one thing griffons can’t stand, it’s parting with money.”

“I get it,” said Cinnamon comfortingly. “Do you need any help?”

“Naw, I can handle it. Besides, only postal workers are allowed back here.”

“Oh. Well, is there anything I can do for you?”

“Well,” replied Gabby, thoughtfully. “I did see a letter… Hold on!” The griffoness rushed back to the sorting table and plunged her hand into the smaller canvas bag. “I thought I saw a letter addressed to the LeGrand residence! Ah! Here it is!” She brought out a sky-blue envelope with a stamp of Queen Bellatrix of the Changelings on it. The image of the queen kept changing from a powder blue unicorn to a regal black Changeling. “It’s addressed to Mrs. Augustus LeGrand, but you can take it to her, since you’re family.”

“Be glad to!” The filly put the letter in her saddlebag. “In fact, we’re plannin’ to go up there today to do some laundry, so that’ll work out fine!”

“You know, I know a good laundress you can use…”

“Maybe next time, Gabby,” said Cinnamon, turning to leave. “We promised Miss Guinevere we’d visit today. Thanks again!”

Cinnamon Roll happily trotted all the way home. Gulliand met her at the door.

“Did everything go alright, Cherie?” he asked anxiously. “No one gave you any trouble?”

“No, it was fine,” the filly assured him. “I saw Gabby at the post office. She gave me a letter to take to your Ma.” She hoofed the envelope to Gulliand. “Looks like it’s from the Changeling Lands.”

“It is. It’s from my father,” said Gulliand grimly as he examined the handwriting. “I hope it is good news and he has not been reassigned. Ooh, La! That would be bad!”

“You know,” said Cinnamon cautiously. “I don’t know much about your father, except what he does for a livin’. I kinda get the feelin’ that you and your sisters…well… don’t get along too good with him.”

The griffon appeared taken aback. He opened his beak to say something, then closed it and sighed deeply. “It’s that obvious, isn’t it?” The filly nodded. Gulliand sighed again and shook his head. “Well, I suppose you would have found out eventually. You are right. We do not get along with him at all.”

“Why is that?” asked Cinnamon, taking a seat. “I mean, I know about how he makes y’all do stuff like, Gigi dancin’ and Gidget learnin’ language. Is there more to it than that?”

“Yes,” Gulliand nodded grimly. “A lot more. You know our ancestors were high-ranking, respectable diplomats. Our father is fiercely proud of that. So much so, that when Uncle Gustave decided to become a pastry chef, he encouraged the family to disown him.”

“What!”

“It's true! They were going to do it, but when he became rich and famous, they reconsidered. It was Uncle Gustave who paved the way for me to become a chef as well.”

The filly raised an eyebrow. “What did your father think of you becoming a chef?”

“He was furious. He wanted me to become a diplomat and claimed that Uncle Gustave had turned me against him. He literally dragged me before my grandmother and insisted she disown Uncle Gustave before he turned us all into, and I quote, ‘ponified short-order cooks’.”

“Dang!”

“Grandmother LeGrand refused, of course," Gulliand smirked. "Her son was making beaucoups of bits serving his eclairs to everyone from the princesses to pop stars. There was no way she was going to let that kind of clout slip away. She agreed I should be trained as a chef, a pastry chef, to be exact. And that is how I ended up studying in Maris.”

Cinnamon Roll nodded. “I know the rest. Maestro Gustave offered to pay for your tuition if you came to Canterlot and that’s how you ended up at the school.”

“Oui. And you know hard Uncle Gustave took it when I decided not to become a pastry chef? That was nothing compared to how my father took the news. He would have pulled me out of school if my uncle hadn’t been paying for my education.”

“I’m starting to not like your father,” the filly said, frowning. “What did your grandma say?”

“Grandmother was also disappointed, but decided to give me a chance to prove myself. That’s why she let me have this place.”

“Well, that’s good,” said Cinnamon, quietly. She looked up at Gulliand and noticed his feathers were fluffing up, a sure sign the griffon was agitated. “It’s okay, Sugarcube. We don’t need to talk about it anymore.”

Gulliand sighed deeply. “It is all right, Cherie. You will be a member of this family, so you have a right to know.” He ran his talons over his head and neck, smoothing out his ruffled feathers. “Now, come along. We have some laundry to do.”

Ginny, the diminutive brown-furred maid, grunted loudly as she dragged a load of bed sheets onto the upper story landing. “Stupid wash day,” she muttered and tossed the pile to the floor below where they landed with a muffled thud. Guinevere looked up from the paper she was reading to glare at the servant.

“You shouldn’t be throwing the laundry like that,” she snapped. “The sheets need to be carried down.”

“Hey, I’m not gonna fly up and down carrying this stuff all morning,” the little griffon snapped back. “What’s wrong with the way I’m doing it?”

“You know why it is wrong!” barked Gordon before Guinevere could reply. “We have been over this with you before. We do not want you to accidentally drop those heavy sheets on top of somegriff!”

“Whatever!” Ginny huffed. She turned away but not before shooting Guinevere a malicious grin. “Ambassador LeGrand doesn’t mind if I toss the sheets on the floor. In fact, I think he likes it.”

Guinevere flinched. Gordon, his cheek feathers pink with rage, launched himself onto the landing and pushed his furious face into the maid’s.

“That is enough!” he roared. “Madam Guinevere is your employer and I will not have her disrespected in this manner! As of this moment you are sacked! You may collect your paycheck and leave the premises!”

The griffoness looked shocked. “You can’t fire me! Ambassador LeGrand–”

“The ambassador did not hire you. He only recommended you. As head of household affairs, I am the one who hired you and I am the one who fired you. Now, collect your pay and get out!”

“FINE!” Ginny spat before kicking the remaining pile of laundry to the floor below. She snatched off her mob cap and flung it at Guinevere. “Uptight, frigid buzzard!”

She stormed out the front door, where she collided with Gulliand. “Outta my way, jerkface!”

“Pardon?” The confused griffon replied. He turned to Gordon who had glided down to meet him. “What was that?”

“That was a maid I was forced to fire just now,” replied Gordon coolly. He ran his talons over his head, smoothing the ruffled feathers. “She did not not take direction well and…she was insolent towards Madam Guinevere.”

“Ah!” Gulliand nodded grimly.

“Good morning, Gulliand!” cried Guinevere sailing over to greet her son. “I’m so happy to see you, even if it is just for you to wash your laundry. Where is Cinnamon Roll? Surely, you didn’t leave her at that house by herself!”

“No, she’s right outside. She insisted on carrying the basket in herself and I–”

“SCREEEEEE–”

THUNK!

All three griffons jumped at the sound of a screeching roar cut short by a loud thud.

“CHERIE!” cried Gulliand.

“I’m all right,” replied Cinnamon. The filly stepped into the house, pushing the laundry basket before her. Four bright red lines decorated her shoulder. “I don’t know what was wrong with that crazy griffoness, but she swiped the dang-nab basket right off my back and scratched the fool outta me. I bucked her flank into the middle of next week!”

“You’re bleeding, Miss Cinnamon,” said Gordon, stepping forward. “Let Mister Gulliand take care of the laundry. Follow me to the bathroom and I will take care of your wound.”

“Please, do as Gordon says,” said Gulliand before the little filly could argue. “There’s no telling where that horrid hen’s talons have been.”

Reluctantly, Cinnamon Roll agreed and followed the butler to the downstairs bathroom. The moment the door closed behind them, Gulliand turned to his mother. “Another one?” he asked.

Guinevere nodded. “I suspected it, but I didn’t know for sure until she confirmed it just now. He’s getting more brazen,” she added, clenching her beak. “He used to carry out his little affairs outside the house. Now, he keeps his harem in my house, right under my beak!”

“I’m sorry, Mother,” said Gulliand quietly.

The griffoness shrugged. “It is what it is. Gordon weeds them out when he can.” A small smile crept across her beak. “I just wish I could have seen the kick Cinnamon Roll gave that little hussy! That would have made my day.”

Gulliand chuckled. “If Cinnamon says she bucked her into the middle of next week, that means she spared nothing. That little griffoness will be lucky if she lands on this side of the mountain!”

Guinevere giggled softly, clearly savoring the image of the maid’s body tumbling comically through the air. A moment later, she regained her usual regal composure.

“Take your sheets to the laundry room. I’ll be waiting in the sitting area.”

“Yes, Mother.” The young griffon did as he was told and soon was sitting in an armchair opposite his mother.

“So,” she said once he had settled in. “How have things been with you two? Your first sale went well, I heard.”

Gulliand nodded. “The response was wonderful. Cinnamon had some trouble selling her Bundt cakes, that was all. She has a plan to make them more appealing to griffons in the future.”

“That’s good. How much profit did you make?”

The griffon grimaced. “Not much. We had to buy bowls and spoons to serve the dumplings. I have also hired a helper, though he doesn’t start until tomorrow.”

“I see,” said Guinevere. “And I suppose having to get the windows fixed didn’t help either.”

“No, it was…” Gulliand paused and looked sharply at his mother. The griffoness gazed back at him with feigned innocence. “How did you know?”

“What? You think you’re Garland’s only customer?” she asked lightly. She shook her head and regarded him seriously. “I was afraid something like this would happen! Are you sure you don’t wish to come back here where it’s safe?”

Gulliand sighed. “No, Mother. We are settled and already have our supplies in. We need to stay there to keep the place up and guard our materials. Besides, do you realize how early or late we would be working each day? Would you really want us flying up and down the mountain in the dark?”

“But what if you are attacked again?” Guinevere demanded. “I don’t want either of you to be hurt.”

“It wasn’t that bad, Mother. They broke a window but did not try to get inside even though they could have easily come in through the hole in the roof, which, by the way, has been patched. I believe we will be alright.”

Guinevere sighed and shook her head despairingly. “Stubborn, like your father,” she muttered.

Gulliand dropped his eyes to the floor. “Cinnamon Roll asked me about Father this morning,” he said quietly. He glanced at his mother and saw he had her immediate attention. “She said she had noticed that we, Gigi, Gidget, and I, don’t seem to get along with him.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her about how he behaved when I decided to become a chef. I told her about how he tried to get Uncle Gustave disowned by the family.”

Guinevere raised an eyebrow. “Is that all you told her?”

Gulliand sighed. “I didn’t tell her about Father’s extra-marital affairs or that they were the main reasons behind Father being reassigned so often.”

“She would have to learn about it sooner or later,” said Guinevere with a sigh. “It’s common knowledge among the elite families,” she added bitterly.

“I know!” The griffon nervously combed back his errant head feathers, but only succeeded in making them stand up taller. “I am just afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Afraid that if she learns the truth, she will…” the griffon gulped. “She will think that I will turn out just like him.”

“What?” Guinevere laughed incredulously. “Gulliand, you are nothing like your father! Whatever made you think such a thing?”

“You know the saying: the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

His mother snorted. “In your case, I think the apple rolled down a hill, fell in a river, and floated to the ocean! You are nothing like your father! I know you had a few flings while in Maris, but you always treated those mares with respect! That is something your Father has never done.” Guinevere touched his shoulder gently. “You remind me of Uncle George before the Old Timers set in. He was kind, funny, and lovingly devoted to his wife. He was heartbroken when she passed. I wasn’t sure before I met Cinnamon Roll, but I am sure now, you two will have the same kind of relationship.”

Gulliand gave his mother’s talon a grateful squeeze. “Thank you, Maman.”

The bathroom door opened with a creak and a blushing Cinnamon Roll wearing a patch on her shoulder entered the room.

“I am so sorry Mr. Gordon,” she said in a small voice. “I didn’t think I would use that kinda language.”

“It’s quite alright, Miss Cinnamon,” the butler assured her as he followed her. “The application of iodine appears to elicit such reactions.”

“Ugh! I remember him doctoring me after I crash landed in Grandmother’s rock garden,” said Gulliand, with a dry chuckle. “The landing hurt less than the doctoring! Thank you, Gordon,” he added to the butler.

Gordon simply nodded then pulled up a chair for Cinnamon Roll next to Gulliand.

“Thank you, Mr. Gordon,” she said as she sat down.

Guinevere sighed and shook her head at the little filly’s lack of social etiquette, but did not mention it. “Gulliand said your first sale went well. I’m glad to hear it. I wasn’t sure how the griffons would react to pony pastries.”

“They were a little suspicious at first,” said Cinnamon Roll. “But after they got a load of Gulliand’s dumplin’s, they were ready to give 'em a try. I was just a little disappointed about the Bundt cakes.” She looked sharply at the griffoness. “Those are cakes with a hole in the center.”

Guinevere gave her a bemused look. “Uh, I know what a Bundt cake is, dear. I have visited Germane.”

“Oh!” the filly blushed. “Sorry.”

“I’m afraid many of our customers gave her grief over the hole in her cakes,” Gulliand explained. “Fortunately, she has found a new way to market them.”

“I call them Sugar Nests,” Cinnamon explained as Gulliand retrieved a cloth-covered basket he had left by the door. “We decorated the cakes to look like nests, then we added some egg-shaped cakes. What do you think?”

“I think they are darling!” exclaimed Guinevere. “We will have them for dessert tonight, though they are too pretty to eat!” She handed the basket to Gordon who placed them on the dining table. “Thank you, dear.”

“You’re welcome. I gave one to Gabby, the mail carrier, too. She’s been such a big help to us! Oh! I almost forgot! This letter came for you. Gulliand says it’s from your husband.”

“What?” Guinevere gasped, her face draining of color. She snatched the letter and tore it open with a talon. “You should have given this to me at the start!” She pulled a gold-embossed card from the envelope and read the inscription.

“What is it?” asked Gulliand. “Father hasn’t been reassigned, has he?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” the griffoness sighed in obvious relief. “It’s an invitation to a ball Queen Bellatrix is hosting at the Changeling Hive. Your father wants us to attend.”

“I’m not included, am I?” asked Gulliand anxiously. “We’re still working on setting up the restaurant and I can’t leave Cinnamon behind.”

“No, dear. The invitation is just for Gigi, Gidget, and myself,” Guinevere pulled a small handwritten note from the envelope. “It would appear he has a special assignment for the girls. Gordon, could you please summon them for me?”

The butler bowed, “Yes, Madam.”

“Wow,” said Cinnamon Roll. “This is the first time I’ve heard of Queen Trixie hostin’ a ball! Knowin’ her, it’s gonna be a big event.”

“She does have a reputation for spectacles,” Guinevere agreed. “I heard she made a very grand entrance at the Grand Galloping Gala a few years ago. Fireworks were involved, I believe. Ah! Girls!” she added as Gigi and Gidget landed beside her. “I have something important to tell you.”

“What is it?” asked Gigi, sitting daintily on the rug.

Gidget sprawled out next to her like a cat sunning itself in a beam of light. “Yeah. What’s up?”

The griffoness glared at Gidget’s unladylike pose, but chose to ignore it. “We have received an invitation to a ball that is being hosted by Queen Bellatrix in the Changeling Lands. It’s to be a debutante ball for her daughter Princess Moonbeam!”

“Wow!” cried Gigi, her eyes lighting up. “I love debutante balls! They’re so much more fun than those stuffy Embassy parties Father drags us to.”

Gidget was unimpressed. “And what job does Father have for us this time?” she asked. “Does Gigi have to dance with the princess’ ugly uncle while I talk politics with some official from Whogivesacrapia?”

“Language, Gidget!” Guinevere snapped. She then held up the enclosed note and began to read: “‘Guinevere, I expect the girls to wait on the Princess Moonbeam during the ball. This is her first public appearance and the Queen is a bit nervous. (Not that I can blame her. The child is the strangest chimera anyone in Equestria or beyond could hope to gaze upon). I promised her Majesty that the girls would make great company. I pray they do not disappoint me. Signed, Augustus LeGrande. Ambassador.’”

“Wow,” said Gidget after a moment of silence. “No pressure.”

“Maybe, it won’t be bad,” said Gigi, hopefully. “Remember that party we attended in Yakyakistan? We had a good time hanging out with the chief’s niece, Yona.”

“Yeah, but this is gonna be way different. From what Father said, it sounds like we’re going to be babysitting a freak…”

“Moonbeam is not a freak!” cried Cinnamon Roll suddenly. All four griffons stared at her in surprise. The little filly jumped down from her chair and pushed her face into Gidget's. “I met her when she attended Screwy and Mothy’s wedding ten years ago! She was really sweet, kind, and downright BEAUTIFUL!”

“S-Sorry,” Gidget whispered, cowering from the furious filly. “I-I was going by what the letter…Oh, never mind. I’m sorry.”

“You seem to know more about her than us, Cherie,” said Gulliand diplomatically. “Why don’t you tell the girls what you know about the princess?”

For the next few minutes, the little filly told the griffonesses what she had learned about Queen Trixie and Princess Moonbeam, careful to leave out any details that might embarrass the Changeling monarch. She related how the queen, estranged from the Hive, had met and fallen in love with a Minotaur named Iron Will and how badly he had reacted upon her revealing that she was a Changeling.

“Can’t say I blame him,” said Guinevere. “Changelings had a horrible reputation.”

“I know,” said Cinnamon Roll. “I was a kid when Chrysalis attacked Ponyville. They were real tough customers. Chrysalis had drained most of Discord’s love, so he was too weak to fight her off. If Screwy and Mothy hadn’t figgered out that an overload of love would blast ‘em out, we’d have been in real trouble.”

“And that’s a story for another day,” said Gidget, prompting her. “So, this Iron Will guy found out Bellatrix was a Changeling and rejected her. What happened then?”

Cinnamon Roll continued, telling about how heart broken the future queen was. She left out how Trixie had Chrysalis remove her heart because she felt that was too personal, but she did tell about Moonbeam’s birth and her mother’s reaction.

“Wow,” breathed Gigi. “A Changeling and a Minotaur. That is an odd combination. What does she look like?”

“Well, when I saw her at the wedding, she was in her Non-Changeling form,” Cinnamon explained. “She looks like a Unicorn pony, except her horn is shaped like a cow horn and her back legs and tail also look like a cow’s. I don’t know what she looks like as a Changeling, though. Her changing powers were kinda weak.”

“I see why the Queen is anxious,” murmured Guinevere. “Princess Moonbeam’s appearance could cause creatures to believe she is weak and can be disregarded. Gigi and Gidget standing with her would let them know she is respected and accepted.”

“As I said, no pressure,” Gidget muttered. “But, I guess it’s going to be okay. You said the princess was nice. She’s not stuck up or anything?”

“Not a bit. She was friendly and really happy to be around folks who accepted her for who she is. Screwy and Mothy visit her often, and they’re always happy to see her.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” said Gigi, regaining her excitement. “We need to start going through our gowns and see if there’s anything that needs altering. Oh, I could wear my sea-green taffeta with the cream tulle! I can add a few sequins to change it up…”

“And there she goes,” Gidget shook her head as her sister hurried to her room to search her wardrobe. “I guess I better be checking mine, too,” she added without enthusiasm. “I might find something that looks cute enough for a debutante ball.”

“Thank you for the information, Cinnamon Roll, dear,” said Guinevere as Gidget flapped away. “I keep forgetting about your connections with the Elements of Harmony and the princesses.”

“You’re welcome, Ma’am,” the filly replied.

“When is the ball to be held, Mother?” asked Gulliand.

“In two weeks. That should be enough time for us to prepare our wardrobes and schedule transportation. Isn’t it, Gordon?”

“Yes, Madam. I will see to it right away.”

“Wonderful! Now, all I have to do is find someone to watch your Uncle George while we are gone. I’m afraid Garbo is permanently off the list.” She turned to Gordon. “Have we reimbursed them for the damage, yet?”

“For the eggs, yes,” replied the butler with a nod. “The mattress is still in negotiations. I offered them a replacement from Gaylord’s but they insist the ruined mattress was better quality than anything Gaylord’s carries. They would prefer a cash settlement, Madam.”

“Of course they would,” grumbled Guinevere. “We give them the money. They buy a replacement from Gaylord’s and pocket the rest. Find out how much they want and see if you can reach an agreement with them.”

“Yes, Madam.”

"Thank you, Gordon." The griffoness then turned back to her son and smiled. "I hope you are staying for lunch. We are having pork loin and candied carrots!"