Putting a Bun in the Oven

by L0rd0f7hund3r

Rating: mature
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Flurry Heart, Romance, Sex, Comedy, Profanity, Anthro
Length: 20018

Flurry Heart and Pound Cake finally make up for the cock blocking of three years ago.

♫Love and Marriage, Love and Marriage; it's an institute you can't disparage…♪

Due to an ancient bylaw written into the charter of The Crystal Empire, the now adult Princess Flurry Heart must entertain a suitor of the stallion persuasion and marry him in order to maintain her title as Crown Princess of The Crystal Empire. This would pose no problem for the beautiful daughter of The Princess of Love- if only the octogenarian Crystal Empire Council could stop selecting prissy, stuff shirted, geriatric stallions as her suitors. If only there was a solution to Flurry's little suitor pro- Oh, wait, there is! Only, would He still remember her three years after they met…?

A Writing Commission from Ron Jeremy Pony.

Published 2019-06-30 11:20:02 UTC
Last updated 2019-06-30 11:20:02 UTC

1 Open Mouth, Insert Hoof!

The high pitched moan of disgust rumbled through the Crystal Palace, reaching the base of the building with alarming speed. Everything from the walls to The Crystal Heart shook as the moan reverberated through the gemstone structure. High up in the tower, where the Council of Elders resided their monthly meetings, the ornate doors blasted backwards as a young alicorn tore through them, tears streaming from her eyes. The Council sat on their rumps, baffled and more than a little unnerved by the princess. The suitor they had selected was of noble stock, marrying age, and despite his infirmity, was a stallion of great stature, both in the Crystal Empire and her sister kingdom, Equestria. Why Flurry Heart rejected him was beyond them all.

“We humbly apologize, Lord Alfalfa,” said the chair of the council, “we were assured that Princess Flurry would agree to the match.”

Lord Alfalfa huffed indignantly, saying, “If I had known the princess to be a stuck up little filly, I wouldn’t have agreed to come.”

“Ya cain’t always get what ya want,” said another voice in a dialect well away from that of the Crystal Ponies or the Canterlot unicorn in the room, “Flurry is her own mare, an’ Ah doubt ya’ll can keep up with her, ennyhow.”

“Lady Applejack,” the chair moaned, “while you are no doubt correct, Princess Flurry isn’t even your child! She is the eldest foal of Princess Mi Amore Cadenza and Prince-Consort Shining Armor! It was on their word that we of the council had assurances that this would be a successful match.”

Lord Alfalfa was about to say something when Applejack cut across him, “Mebbe she ain’t mah flesh and blood, but I still consider her mah daughter. She treats me like her ma well enough, ennway. An’ ‘sides, ya’ll ever try to tell Flurry Heart what ta do? Like putting makeup on pig…”

“She’s certainly pigheaded,” Lord Alfalfa commented, which earned him a dire look from the farmer/mare-in-waiting.

“Now ya’ll see here-!” She started before a small voice broke in.

“Mama, Ah done all mah chores,” Prince Rusty Coat stated, “and Ah even helped Radiant with her share a bit. Papa done said I could hep ‘im with th’ Crystal Guard when Ah was done. So, can Ah go, Mama?”

“Al’ight, Rusty, ya’ll go on a help yer pa,” Applejack answered before turning back to the Council and their guest, “Ah ain’t got a clue why ya’ll are so itchin’ fer Flurry Heart to get hitched. Ya’ll ain’t had any qualms about Shinin’ or me joinin’ in. So what gives?”

“Lady Applejack,” the council chair addressed his mistress, “we’re just- worried. Princess Flurry Heart is well past her prime age for courtship and if she doesn’t find a mate soon-”

“She’ll be an old maid before she knows it,” Lord Alfalfa added, “wouldn’t do The Empire any good if their heir to throne has no stallion to support her…”

“That’s ‘nuff outta you,” Applejack growled, then to the council chair, “Lord Bismuth, Ah can un’erstand wantin’ ta follow tradition. Heh, the Apple Family is practically raised on tradition. But is it really necessary fer ya’ll to interfere in a filly’s love life?”

“It’s not really interference, Lady Applejack,” Lord Bismuth stated, “it’s her royal duty to find a strong stallion to support her rule. Surely you understand-”

“Nope,” Applejack interrupted, “Ah don’t un’erstand it at’ll. Then again, I ain’t some noble or royal…”

“But Lady Applejack-!” Bismuth tried to explain.

“Nope,” Applejack said pointedly, “and as fer ya’ll, ‘Lord Alfalfa,’ Ah cain’t fathom how a stallion nearly in retirement would want a filly Flurry’s age. Shame on ya’ll! Yer nearly three times her age!”

With that said, Applejack gathered herself up, though she wasn’t like her sister wife all trussed up in skirts and petticoats, and briskly walked towards the council chambers doors. She stopped just long enough to give Alfalfa a glare and added, “And ya’ll better steer clear of my Radiant Shield. Ah ain’t ever kilt a pony ‘fore but ya’ll don’t wanna test me.”

And with that, AJ strode out of the council chambers.

“Sweet Celestia,” Lord Alfalfa wheezed, “I knew that Apple Family mares were feisty but do they get even more so when with foal?”

Bismuth shook his head, “You don’t even know. And she’s having twins! A colt and a filly. There’s a pool going around, you know?”

“A pool, huh?” Lord Alfalfa asked, “For what?”

“The tribe of the foals,” Bismuth replied, “I have twenty bits for unicorns.”

The Canterlot unicorn nodded and said, “Put me down for one hundred, both as Earth ponies. The tend to breed like rabbits, you know?”

Flurry Heart sat in the garden located at midtower, the final tears of disgust shed as her rump turned numb. She didn’t get why the Council of Elders was so dead set on her married off to some ancient noble. Sure, she was a princess, but that didn’t mean she wanted to marry into some barely fit stallion with more bits than hair! She knew that as the eldest offspring of her family, she was expected to fulfill certain duties and play a role in The Empire’s ruling class. She didn’t like it, but she had been resigned to it for nearly a year now.

The exhaustive grooming she had undertaken since she turned fifteen, with stalwart guidance from the Council, was the benefit of the Crystal Ponies. Should her mother and father die suddenly, she, as the eldest, would be the one for whom the crown fell upon their brow. There were days when, after lessons in diction, annunciation, etiquette, geo-political affairs, dancing (her favorite lessons thus far,) culinary arts (or a fabulous excuse to get dirty,) and music (she was being taught with over a dozen string instruments though she favored the tuba,) that as she fell into her colossal four poster bed, that she realized just how lonesome being a princess really was.

Maybe that was why the Council was trying to hook her up with all these stallions, but far too many were old enough to be her grandfather. (And she had plenty of meetings with Grandpa Nightlight. These stallions were nothing like him at all!) She understood that, compared to some ponies, her life was far from lamentable. She had a posh lifestyle, with all the fashionable clothes she could wear, a personal butler to carry out her every whim (which, besides a tub of apricot ice cream every now and then, weren’t much) and a team of maids to clean up after her and help her bathe and/or dress, and the societal status as the heir of an important nation, her life was just dandy. Still, if hadn’t been for her younger sister and half-brother, she may have gone insane from the constant pressure a decade ago.

“Is it too much to ask for a stallion around my age that was worthy of my hand?” She asked to nopony, “Is it really that much of an ordeal to find a handsome colt who sees me as a pony and not as some stepping stone to further riches and prestige?”

She didn’t expect an answer, so when she heard the voice of her younger sister, it startled her some.

“I think it might be,” Radiant stated, “Are you okay? I heard you thundered out of the council chambers. Again.”

“I would to say yes,” Flurry replied, “but in all honesty, I feel horrible.”

“Was he really that bad?” Radiant Shield asked, setting across from her older sister on one of the garden benches.

“He was nearing seventy, Rads,” Flurry answered, “and he has The Trots. Not like the occasional spurt, I mean, like chronic. He drinks this nasty, vile smelling salmon potion just to keep from soiling himself.”

“Oh, wow,” Radiant said, “that- is not a healthy stallion. And the Council wanted you to court him? Or was it vice versa?”

“Vice,” Flurry replied simply.

“Starswirl’s beard-!” Radiant exclaimed softly, “What is the Council thinking?!”

“Tartarus if I knew,” Flurry retorted, “I guess they want somepony with ‘prestige of station’ or something.”

“That’s-” Radiant began, “I can’t even. That is just the worst.”

“I know,” Flurry replied, “I can only imagine what Mother and Father are going to say.”

“Think they’ll read you the ‘you need a suitor’ rhetoric?” Radiant asked.

Flurry Heart shrugged, adding, “Father might, but he’ll have no heart in it. Mother will look at me mournfully, and then tell me that she would have done the same thing. Then she’ll tell me that, while I do need to find a respectable suitor, if all things were equitable, I would find a stallion who stirs my heart like Father does for Mother.”

“A fairytale romance,” Radiant sighed, “there aren’t many of those in Equestria, are there?”

“Not unless you’re a princess,” Flurry countered, “Great Aunt Tia and Lulu have their stallion, so…”

Radiant patted Flurry’s shoulder, “You’ll find him. I have a feeling he’s hiding in the last place you would ever look.”

A quizzical look spread over Flurry Heart’s face as her sister said that. Then, almost as if a light bulb had lit up in her head, she realized she had the perfect suitor. It had been a long while since she had seen him last, and she didn’t know if he was seeing anyone, but he was the best choice all things considered.

“The last place I’d ever look,” Flurry Heart whispered, “or the last place The Council would ever look!”

“Sis?” Radiant inquired, “What are you thinking?”

“Cupcakes,” Flurry answered, “I’m in the mood for cupcakes. And I know where the best cupcakes in Equestria are made!”

A brisk trade was happening at the most popular bakery in Ponyville. The lunchtime crowd started a queue at fifteen minutes until eleven and even though it was now half past two in the afternoon, there were still ponies lined around the block. Some would credit this to the tireless efforts of the proprietors, Carrot Cake and Cup Cake; others would point out the string of hit treats that started pouring out of the shop when Pinkie Pie and Pumpkin Cake started collaborating on confectionary delights. There is, though, a small but ardent core of ponies that are there for a glimpse of the Cakes Pegasus son, Pound Cake.

At 20 years old and a strapping colt at that, Pound had inflamed the hearts of young mares the county over. He was the eligible bachelor in Princess Twilight’s demesne, and as such, attracted his fair share of female admirers. He had grown from a gawky, gangling teen into a well built stallion, the antithesis of his father’s build. But, like his father, he was easy going and hard working.

He was an excellent flyer as well, sometimes volunteering for the Ponyville Weather teams if they were short handed or Captain Rainbow Dash was out doing any of her myriad duties (mare-in-waiting, Wonderbolts Captain, Ponyville Weather Chief, et al.) He was also part of the Ponyville Volunteer Fire Department, and was the lead tenor of the Pony Tones Quartet. He was busy, but he was content, and really, that’s what really mattered.

Now, at this hour, he was helping out his mother, father, and sister (and old foal sitter) with keeping up with the uptick in customers. The formal declaration of Princess Twilight’s demesne caused the Ponyville population to skyrocket.The resultant population boom meant that The Sugarcube Corner had to expand business hours and days of operation. Not only was the bakery open during lunch and dinner, but now they had a breakfast menu plus a late night menu. When before, The Sugarcube Corner was only open for eight hours, now it was twelve. (This, in small part, was thanks not just to the recent arrivals, but also due to the endorsement of both the Lunar and Solar Diarchs.)

The upswing in business was a good thing, even if it meant Mr. and Mrs. Cake were constantly busy. Thankfully, Pinkie Pie stayed on as an auxiliary baker and the influx of ponies also brought about some expert crafts ponies hoping to ply their wares and trade in the bakery. The shop now had twice as much floor space as before, a kitchen area four times as large, and a staff that consisted of sixteen ponies and a griffon wren who specialized in scones. There was even rumor that a lauded Mintoaur confectionaire was planning to make his new home The Sugarcube.

“Sis,” Pound called back into the kitchen, “how’s that order coming along?”

“Almost done, Bro-Bro,” Pumpkin fired back, “Gilda’s just getting the icing on the scones.”

“Good,” Pumpkin replied, “our griffon friends are getting antsy.”

“Tell ‘em to keep their pants on!” Gilda growled, “Good scones take time!”

“Don’t I know it,” Pumpkin stated, giving the griffon wren a hoof bump to one of Gilda’s talons, “Are we still packed out there?”

“You bet your rump it is!” Pound answered, “You girls aren’t getting tired back there, are ya?”

“Hardly,” Pumpkin fires back, “we’re just getting started!”

Business continues as normal, the till filling steadily as customers continue to pour into the shop, Pound manning the register as Pinkie, Pumpkin, Gilda, and Mrs. Cake work the ovens into a frenzy, Mr. Cake keeping the wait staff moving to fulfill orders. Hour after hour passes in this fashion, the crowd slowly dwindling until the hour of four strikes. By then, the majority of the regular lunch crowd is gone and the shop has gone noticeably quiet. Pumpkin joins her brother at the register, collecting the till now that the insanity is over with. As the last of the bags of bits is filled, the shop telephone, a relative novelty until a year ago when the Cakes started offering order-by-phone service, rang. Mrs. Cake answers it politely, as Mr. Cake sweeps up the kitchen floor and the rest of the staff cleans up the dining area.

“I smell an honest bankroll here,” Pumpkin said, “we should make payroll and maybe get a vacation out of this. I’m thinking Baltimare.”

“You’re being modest about our success,” Pound replies, “we could easily make Manehattan, if business keeps up like this.”

“It usually does,” Pumpkin adds, “it hasn’t failed us so far.”

“No doubt. That’s all thanks to Pinkie Pie,” Pound says, “she and her stallion help quite a lot, between their party planning business and Cheese Sandwich’s accounting acumen. You wouldn’t think a stallion with that messy mane of his could crunch numbers.”

“Who knew, right?” Pumpkin mused.

“Pound?” Mrs. Cake called, “Could you come back here, please?”

“Uh-oh,” Pumpkin sang, “somepony is in trouble!”

“Shut up,” Pound growled, “at least Mom wasn’t yelling.”

Mr. Cake, having just finished the mop up of the kitchen, appears through the kissing doors the lead to the kitchen, his normal cleaning smock replaced by a cashier’s smock. The look on his face tells Pound that his father will handle the register while he attends to his mother.

“You got it, Dad?”

“Yeah, I got it, Son,” Mr. Cake stated, “especially since you’re not using that fancy, electrical doodad that Princess Twilight came up with. All those buttons and things… I hardly know where to enter in a customer’s order!”

“It can be kinda confusing,” Pound admitted, “it does possess a steep learning curve.”

“One of these days, I’ll figure it out,” Carrot stated, “now go see your mother.”

Ignoring the snickering of his sister, Pound retreats to the back. Now that the crush of ponies had evaporated, Pound found travel through the kitchen much easier. Gilda was still at the ovens, making a fresh batch of scones and Pinkie Pie was playing with her daughter and decorating a score of cupcakes. Although a Pegasus, Pound found the warmth of the kitchens well to his liking; he had always thought that the dining area being too cold. His sister was the opposite; she liked it colder than he did. He couldn’t figure out how she survived the kitchen when all the ovens were burning brightly.

When he found his mother, she was still on the phone, jotting down some last minute instructions. After saying goodbye to the caller, Cup Cake settles the handset back on the receiver. Her eyes sweep over the list she wrote down before pinning it to the order rack.

“Special delivery!” She calls out, “A jury’s worth of hard azure!”

“I’m on it!” Pinkie Pie replies, before snagging the order slip and getting back to work.

“What’s going on, Mom?” Pound asks.

“Well, sweetie, we got ourselves a very special order,” Cup Cake begins to explain, “caller was insistent that you be the one to deliver it. Think you’re up to making a special, overnight trip to deliver these treats?”

“Yeah, of course!” Pound exclaims, “Where are they going? Vanhoover? Fillydelphia? Trottingham?”

“Oh, blessed be,” Mrs. Cake titters, “a dozen blueberry and sapphire cupcakes in Trottingham? That’ll be the day!”

Pound gives his mother a quizzical look, “Why is that funny?”

“Oh, it’s-” she starts, then lowers her voice to a whisper, “we have an- arrangement, with the Apples. We don’t deliver there.”

“Oh.” Pound said.

“Anyway, these beauties are heading for the Crystal Empire,” Mrs. Cake continues, “the caller even paid for the tickets, Royal Express even. They’re waiting at the ticket office of the train station.”

“Oh, wow,” Pound says as his memories play out a scene that he had nearly forgotten.

He wonders if she still lives with her parents. He wonders if she remembers him. The last time they were together, almost six years ago, she was still a little filly. To be fair, he was still a colt, but he was older than her and what they nearly did- He still had vague fantasies about what would have happened if he hadn’t gotten cock blocked. His mother had a point, but it’s not everyday you get seduced by a Princess of Equestria.

“Hello? Hello! Equestria to Pound Cake?” Mrs. Cake shouted, waving her hand in front of her son’s face, “Are you receiving me?”

“Oh, oh!” Pound murmured, “Sorry, Mom, kinda- lost my train of thought their for a second. Some tangent or other…”

“I see,” Mrs. Cake said, though she wore an air of knowing more than she let on, “as I was saying, it gets cold this time of year in The Crystal Empire. Remember to bring your good coat and that scarf that Ms. Carousel knitted for you.”

“Okay, Mom,” Pound replied, “I should also wear my snowshoes. Don’t want to go freezing my frogs off, right?”

Mrs. Cake ruffles her son’s mane and says, “That’s my boy. Now, go get ready. Pinkie should be done with this cupcakes pretty sone and the overnight to the Empire should be in town soon.”

2 Special Delivery!

The box seated on the right of the stallion was decorated to resemble a gingerbread house. The sides and top where a dark sienna and the edges wore scalloped plastic to resemble frosting. The box was given a magical seal, which was powered by the mana crystal embedded in the lid. The seal would keep the treats inside both warm and fresh while in transit. If ever the box should fall, tip over, or otherwise be squashed, the seal would prevent the foodstuffs inside from getting ruined. Such spellcraft was the result of Donut Joe’s attempt to keep his wares from getting damaged during deliveries within Canterlot. It was a combination stasis spell with a shell bewitchment added to a warmth retention charm. The combinant conjuration had proven highly effective and an uptick in sales at Joe’s donut shop resulted in several major scholar’s coming by to learn the conjuration first hand. (Princess Twilight Sparkle being the chief most of the scholar’s to learn about it. That’s from whom Pumpkin Spice Cake learned the spell from.)

The spell had two other conditional operators built into it: the first was only the handler could carry the box. Various jinxes were in place to prevent any telekinesis from moving the box as well as any attempt to teleport it. Anypony else would get a nasty shock should they make an attempt. Second, only the orderer could open it, which required a passphrase to even handle the box. And because of the nature of the enchantment, the passphrase could be spoken by anypony else and still not open; the jinx would only break once the orderer spoke the passphrase. (In this case, the passphrase was an amended version of the Pinkie Swear.)

The stallion in the seat was snoring away. The Friendship Express may have been the fastest train in Equestria, as well as the only rail line that reached the Crystal Empire, but it still took most of a day to get from Ponyville to the Imperial Train Station. Pound Cake had left early in the morning, before dawn actually, and he hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before. His mind was playing an endless loop of the cockblocking he had endured six years earlier.

While it may be noted that nothing short of a bomb exploding or cannon firing would wake Pumpkin from her sleep, Pound was a light sleeper and the first ring of his alarm was enough to rouse him. (This to the annoyance of both Pumpkin and Gilda, who shared a room next door.) Even so, when the train blew its whistle to indicate it was stopping, Pound never heard. He just kept on snoring. It took the conductor, Sooty Chimney, to rouse the colt.

“Wazzah? Huh?” Pound murmured.

“We’ve arrived at the Empire, lad,” the crystal pony said, “best be gettin’ to yer business.”

“Oh,” Pound squeaked, then let out a deep yawn, “I have sweets to deliver.”

It rather surprised him that, as he exited the train, there was no guard contingent to meet him. He thought it odd, since it was the Palace that ordered the cupcakes. Alone at the station, Pound wondered if his coat would suppress the cold. With nopony to greet him or guide him to where he was supposed to be, Pound tromped off the station platform and trudged through the snow off towards the gleaming glow of the Crystal Empire’s warmth inducing shield. A trickle of ponies marching away from the shield smiled as he trod in the opposite direction, many cloaked to dampen the natural glitter of the Crystal Pony coat. Even as far away as he was, the magic involved in making the Crystal ponies so gemlike was still in effect.

Finally reaching the shield’s primary entrance, Pound took a breath in and then stepped into the Empire itself. Immediately, the warmth of the Empire’s magically controlled climate made the young stallion wish he could shed his winter coat. Though he feared how his mother would react if he stripped down in the middle of a job, he was certain nopony in The Empire would give a buck. Even so, he wouldn’t shed his winter threads until he was sure that the job was done and he could rest a little while. (He really hoped that Palace had some hot cocoa on tap. He could use the caffeine.)

His trot into the Empire proper was met with more ponies, many of them of the Crystal variety, heading out. He saw a pair of Crystal Empire Guards a checkpoint, as well. The orange Pegasus stallion of the pair stopped and asked him for his business in The Empire. Pound replied he was there to deliver some food stuffs for the Palace. The cream colored Crystal mare asked him what was in the box; Pound said it was cupcakes, one dozen blueberry and sapphire cupcakes. Since neither guard was a unicorn, and Pound tried to explain that his package could only be opened by the one who placed the order, he was escorted by the pair directly to the Palace.

The walk to the Palace was without further incident, thankfully. Though his guards were stoic, he met plenty of ponies who greeted him warmly and he replied in kind. The Palace in all it’s grandeur sat in the middle of the city-state, resplendent in the midday sun. One of Pound’s escort’s provided him with a set of shaded spectacles. When asked why he was being given these, the mare answered that the gleam from the Palace was greatest at noon. Even the native ponies had trouble looking directly at The Palace when the Celestia’s sun was directly over the structure. A few moments later, the clocks in the city square rang and Pound gets treated to the splendor, and the glare, of the Crystal Palace.

Once he and his escort pass under the shadow of the building, the blinding glare diminishes to nothing. It takes a moment or two before Pound can see again without any impairment, but when he does, he sees another pair of guards (both Pegasi) march down the stairway leading into The Palace itself. The stop in front him and his escort and salute; his escort reciprocates in kind. Once these pleasantries are done, the new guards presented a clipboard that the orange Pegasus took note of.

“What’s going on, Amethyst?”

“Not much, Flash, just checking to see if this guy is on The List.”

“The List?” The mare asked.

“Yeah,” he other stallion stated, “Princess is limiting access. The Empress also issued a D’N’D and I sure as Tartarus am not breaking it.”

“Excuse me,” Pound asked, “what is a D’N’D?”

“Do not disturb,” Flash answered, “Empress Cadence is probably holding a meeting with the Elder’s Council.”

“Or maybe she’s getting another rutting,” the mare added, “she is pretty insatiable.”

“Aw, Celestia, Rose Quartz,” Flash said again, “there you go, being lewd again!”

“Haha!” One of the other stallions chuckled, “Our Colt Scout, Flash Sentry, doesn’t like the idea of our regent getting laid!”

“Lay off the colt, huh, Garnet?” Amethyst said, “He’s the lieutenant for a reason.”

“Okay, okay,” Garnet acquiesced, “Sorry, LT. So, anyway, we need to see if this colt,” he pointed to Pound, “is on The List.”

“I would hope so,” Pound said, “I have cupcakes to deliver.”

“Right,” Garnet said, then peering down to the clipboard, “only got a few names here… And the first on The List is a delivery. Are you Pound Cake?”

“Yeah, that’s me.” Pound answers.

Garnet looks from his clipboard, then to Amethyst, then back to Pound. Some cursory whispers are shared between the two guards, low and inaudible. Pound is beginning to wonder if he’s who he says he is, given who conspiratorial the guards around him are acting. Then Lieutenant Flash is called over and the three stallions have an impromptu conference. More whispers, a gasp, and then the three stallions turn on Pound.

“We were given specific instructions,” Flash states, “please follow me, Mr. Cake.”

With a fleeting, quizzical look, Pound follows Flash towards the ascending stairs to the first floor of the palace. The other three guards fall in behind him, forming a loose chevron. Pound can hardly puzzle out why this much attention is afforded for his presence. It is then that a sudden thought crosses his mind. The thought is born from snatches of conversation he catches from the guards rearward of him, something about an audience with the Princess and rumblings of displeasure within the Elder’s Council. These subjects come to his ears in passing, but they form a strange theory in his brain.

Unbidden in the maelstrom of hypotheses is the memory of an event six years prior. Princess Flurry Heart, wearing next to nothing, alone in his bedroom, moments away from losing his virginity. Then his mother bursts into his room, embarrassing both foals with “The Talk.” His recollection of the day provides him with details he hadn’t reflected on since that day. Princess Flurry was beautiful in her gossamer gown. The curls in her mane and tail, the way her pubescent body was sculpted into the very vision of equine beauty. A terror strikes him quick at the musing, as he tries to imagine what six years have down to her. He knows that his lanky, teenage body had filled in with sinuous muscle, though still lean and tall. While the pair had written each other a handful of times in the intervening years, Princess Flurry had never sent him a photo of herself since their meeting so long ago. He couldn’t fathom how she grown in the interim.

His reminiscence ends when the party abruptly comes to halt; the stop is so sudden, Pound nearly steps in Flash Sentry’s tail. He recovers himself within a microsecond but his breath hitches in his lungs at the scene in front of him. Standing before him is Princess Flurry Heart, with her sister Radiant Shield next to her. Radiant is pretty filly, a fact Pound wouldn’t lie about, but Flurry… In the intervening years, she has grown to an even higher plateau of beauty, so much so that Pound can’t imagine what she looks like underneath her royal robes, though his mind comes up with no less than ten different variations in the second it takes for him to register her presence in the room.

“Your Highness,” Lieutenant Flash says, with a bow of his torso, “as requested, your delivery of one dozen blueberry and sapphire cupcakes.”

There is no emotion in Flurry’s voice or face as she states, “Thank you very much, Lieutenant. You are dismissed.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Flash replies; he motions to his fellow guards and they all amble out of the room, leaving Pound alone with the two royals.

“Well, that’s my cue,” Radiant says, “go get ‘im, Sis.”

A smile finally spreads across Flurry’s muzzle as she speaks to her younger sister, “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

“Later!” Radiant adds as she skips off, leaving Pound absolutely bemused.

“Uh,” he starts, “d-delivery for The Princess?”

“Thank you, Pound,” Flurry says sweetly, “took your time getting here, though.”

“D- What?”

Flurry laughs, a tinkling laugh that sounds refined if rehearsed.

“Oh, Pound, you are just too easy sometimes…”

“Oh, I see now,” Pounds begins, “this was a ruse, wasn’t it? Something to get me up here?”

“In a word? Yes.” Flurry answers, “I do like cupcakes, though. Did Pinkie Pie make those?”

“Yes, she did,” Pound answers, “I take it you prefer Aunt Pinkie’s cooking to my mothers?”

“Ugh! Tartarus no!” Flurry replies, “Your mom makes a pretty good baked treat. Some of the best, even! But I know Pinkie enough to realize she knows just the right way to make a gem cupcake and the skills to bake them just the way I like them.”

“Right,” Pound says, “so, uh, were you the pony who put in the order?”

“That I did indeed,” Flurry answers with pride, “how much do I owe?”

“Twenty five bits,” Pound states, “plus ten for delivery.”

“Sound expensive,” Flurry says with a wink.

Pound fires back, “What? You’re hurting for bits, Your Majesty?”

“Oh, hardly,” Flurry retorts with a smirk, “I think my allowance could get me majority ownership of Sugar Cube Corner. Not that I would do such a thing.”

Pound chuckled, adding, “With your allowance, Your Majesty, you could sponsor franchises in Canterlot, Manehattan, Fillydelphia, and Las Pegasus.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess I could,” Flurry Heart mused, “now that I think about it, I wouldn’t mind a Sugar Cube Corner here in The Empire. Think you’re parents would be game for that?”

“So long as the ponies working it are competent bakers,” Pound replied, “I think they wouldn’t mind. The mortgage on the building is already paid off, so I think Mom and Dad could entertain the possibility of expanding the business.”

Flurry giggles, then says, “Okay, enough about business. Here, I have your money.”

Flurry draws out the thirty-five bits from her purse and hands them to Pound; he pockets the coins in a trouser pocket. He then hands over box of treats to a delighted Flurry Heart. As soon as her hands touch it’s sides, the magical seal on it breaks (it gives a soft sigh when it does so,) and the lid raises slightly. Flurry opens it further, and retrieves a cupcakes from within; she munches on the treat in a very unladylike manner. Not that Pound cares to comment on her lack of etiquette. He finds her scarfing of the treat highly amusing and more than a little cute.

“Oh, that is sooo good,” Flurry coos, “yeah, yeah, I could see a Sugar Cube Corner here in the Empire.”

“I’ll be sure to pass along the news to my folks when I get home,” Pound adds, “which reminds me, when does the express come back this way? I don’t want to be sitting on these bits when I can’t spend them.”

“Oh, yeah, about that,” Flurry says, “it looks like the express is on it’s way to Vanhoover. It won’t make it’s way back to The Empire for at least another twelve hours.”

“TWELVE HOURS?!” Pound exclaims, “This was supposed to be an in-and-out delivery!”

“I’m sorry, Pound,” Flurry apologizes, “if it’s any consolation, I know my mom and dad would be willing to put you up until the train comes back. I certainly wouldn’t mind your company.”

Pound looks questionably at the princess, “Oh?”

“Well,” Flurry further adds, “you don’t expect to eat these by myself, do you?”

“Uh, well,” Pound muses, “Aunt Pinkie does make an excellent cupcake.”

“Great!” Flurry beams, “Follow me; I know someplace where we can enjoy these in peace.”

Flurry turns about in a, ahem, flurry of feathers, with Pound Cake following in her wake. Pound is lead by FLurry Heart towards an ascending staircase. They mount these stairs, across another floor, then up another set of stairs. They continue to do so for another three floors, and partway up the fourth of fifth staircase, it became a race. Bth ponies flew up the stairs, rising floor after floor, before Pound and Flurry stopped on the tenth floor of the Palace, exhausted and panting for breath.

“I- won,” Pound announces between deep lungfuls of air, “hooray- for- me.”

“Oh wow,” Flurry admitted, “you’re- pretty fast- for a- Legasus…”

“Hey, I’m not as fast as Rainbow Dash,” Pound replies, “but I can hold my own. My dad never stopped me from working on my flight skills.”

“Who did you train with?” Flurry asks.

“Ms. Derpy Hooves,” Pound answered, “with some assistance by Ms. Flitter and her sister. I also attended Flight Camp when I was younger and that helped, too.”

“Whoa, really?” Flurry questioned, “You had Derpy hooves train you? Isn’t she kind of- accident prone?”

“She used to be,” Pound said, “but now that she’s not doing every other odd job in town, she’s actually really proven herself as a flier. She taught me quite a lot that most Pegasi didn’t know. She’s a really good instructor.”

“Wow, I didn’t know that,” Flurry muses, “I may need to speak with her. Also, I think I need to lay off the rich meals, too. I’m having trouble breathing-” The Princess wheezes for a moment, “Alicorn I may be, but Faust be damned, I am out of shape!”

“You could have fooled me,” Pound quickly states, “I don’t see anything wrong with you.”

Flurry blushes deeply and says, “You flatterer, you! Now come on, I’m getting hungry.”

She takes Pound’s hand and leads him to an alcove that opens to the city. There is a bench installed in the alcove and a diner style table as well. He notices that the floor they’re on has similar seating along the walls and that there are tables and chairs spread out equidistant to each other. There were several other ponies in the those seats, most enjoying a hot beverage or a scone, though some sampling some delights from far flung Neighpon and Neighples. Pound saw one elderly stallion partaking of an espresso (he could tell by the tiny cup in use) and a pastry of unknown origin that smelled heavenly.

In the center of the floor was a ovoid counter, where two mares, a Shetland Islander and a local Crystal pony, worked an espresso machine. The pair were chatting away quietly, careful not to raise their voices so as to avoid disturbing their clients. The Shetlander had a springy brough, a recent emigre from her country, while the Crystal mare had a peculiar accent Pound couldn’t place. It sounded a lot like a Vanhoover accent, but there were certain phrases that made her sound Mild Westerner.

“Hello, Equus to Pound Cake, calling Pound Cake,” Flurry Heart demanded, “are you receiving me? Are you going to sit down sometime this century or you going to ogle the counter-mares a little more.”

“Oh, yeah,” Pound sheepishly replied, “brain must have slipped some gears- or something.”

“Some company you are,” she chortled, “can’t even keep a filly like me in your sights.”

“To be fair,” Pound shot back, “you are not the easiest target to track. So flighty… I’m a Pegasus and even I can’t follow you everywhere you flitter off to.”

“Point taken,” she replied, taking a bite from the next cupcake in the box, “now sit down. You’re making me nervous standing around as one o’clock half-struck.”

“All right, all right,” he retorted, taking the chair opposite, “and where did you pick up that ‘one o’clock’ thing? I thought that was a phrase commonly used in Trottingham.”

“Exactly!” She announced, “I was on a diplomatic mission with my mom to Ole Blighty. I heard some old stallion use that for a young mare holding up the queue at a fast food restaurant. Kinda stuck with me and it’s really fun to say. In the right context, that is.”

“Indeed,” he said, then after watching the princess ingest her fourth (or was it fifth) cupcake, “you’re really enjoying those, aren’t you?”

The Princess nods her head fervently, crumbs falling in a skein from her mouth.

“They are so good!” She announces with reverence.

Pound nods with a smile, “The only filly capable of making any better is Sugar Belle, but good look getting her out Utopia.”

Flurry Heart acknowledges Pound’s statement with a nod and continues to gorge on her sweets. In no time at all, she has finished the box of all thirteen cupcakes; the crumbs on her muzzle and the bodice of her dress speak of her acute gluttony. She burps, adopting a look of utmost contentedness, then a sheepish grin crosses her muzzle, as she reminds herself that she has just acted rather- unsociable.

“I’m so sorry, Pound,” she says, “I forgot to offer you one!”

“It’s okay,” he replies, waving a hand, “I can’t eat gems anyway. You could make it up to me, though, with some iced coffee or something.”

“That I can do,” Flurry said, then she hailed one of the mares manning the central counter.

The Shetlander is the one that answers the summons. Pound is surprised that, in spite of the mare’s more obvious hefty frame and nigh gargantuan size, the she moves swiftly and quietly to them. The name tag on her ample bosom (not that Pound is paying that much attention to her chest) bears the name “Tiernan,” and Pound is certain that that is not your typical pony name.

“’Allo,” the waitress says, “how may I help ya?”

“I’ll take a grande mocha with cinnamon,” Flurry answers, “and he’ll have an iced coffee.”

“Will that be with cream an’ sugar?” Tiernan asks.

Pound replies, “Light on the cream and with extra sugar, please.”

“Right on,” Tiernan says, “be back in two shakes.”

As the Shetlander leaves, Flurry remarks, “She’s a lively one.”

“As opposed to what, exactly?” Pound deadpans.

Flurry giggles, saying, “As oppsed to a horse puck, I think? Maybe a few tons of minotaur manure?”

“OK, that is just nasty,” Pound says through a laughing fit, “you’re gonna put me off my lunch.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Flurry apologizes, “Mom keeps telling me that I have the worst habit of saying inappropriate things.”

“Oi, Quartz! I be needin’ a tall blonde with an extra helpin’ of fiary dust!” Tiernan shouts to the Crystal pony mare manning the roaster’s kiosk.

“Already on it,Tiernan,” the mare so named Quartz replies, “and should you see a mare fitting that description, you point her cute plot my way, ya?”

“Not if I catch her fancy first,” Tiernan repostes, adding a sashay of her hips, “I know ya pufts from the mainland have a thing for th’ exotic. An’ Imma as exotic as the come!”

“Not unless a contingent of ledrfladder flap their way this far north,” Quartz counters, “then yer done for.”

The two mares banter it up while the coffee machine burbles out a fresh cup of liquid alertness. Neither Flurry Heart nor Pound Cake can say anything while these two decidedly different mares go at each other like an old married couple.

“Huh,” Flurry huffs out as Tiernan returns to their table, cool drink in hand, “more lively than I thought.”

“An’ what were ya expectin’, love,” Tiernan quipped, “a dead fish?”

Flurry’s gasp is almost as comical as Tiernan’s quizzical expression.

“Faust, you’re quiet!”

“Aye,” the Shetlander replies, “comes from dealin’ with dire wolves an’ th’ like. By an’ by, here’s yer mocha, Yer Highness. And fer the lad, ‘is iced coffee.”

The mare places the drinks down at their respective customers, earning a nod of thanks from the pegasus.

“Be there anythin’ else, luvs?” Teirnan asks, “we have scones in all mann’r of flavours. I would recommend the apple, although I’ve been hearin’ the blueberry ain’t half bad.”

“I’m fine,” Flurry says, “what about you, Pound?”

“You know, I am starting to get a little peckish,” the young stallion says, “I could go for a peach scone about now.”

“Gotta stoke th’ stove, then,” Teirnan says, adding with a wink, “luv.”

As the Shetlander saunters away, Flurry’s heart begins to quicken. Her gaze on the busty, shaggy mare is stony and dangerous.

“Why that no good tail raiser…” She seethes, only for Pound to place a hand on her wrist. It the first contact with the stallion she has had in nearly three years. Her heart, once rushing in a rage, now pulses with a quiet urge of anxiety.

“You’re kinda cute when you’re angry,” Pound says, taking a sip of his drink, “but I think you put too much stock in her flirtations. Aunt Pinkie is so much worse, even so much as combining sexual innuendo with puns. And that’s before Uncle Cheese Sandwich returns to town.”

“Oh,” Flurry spouts, “I- uh, I didn't know- yeah.”

“Smooth,” Pound retorts, “you must win over your share of colts with a silver tongue like that.”

The young princess swats at Pound, but the smile on her face shows him she has no heart in the attack.

“Not as much as you would think,” Flurry states, “there are traditions here in the Crystal Empire, which apparently implies that I need to adhere to them. Strictly. The line of suitors I’m supposed to be- wooing, is less than ideal, especially since they’re all Imperial Nobles. And the Crystal Pony colts view me as a minor goddess, so I’m beyond approach. Pretty much limits my dating opportunities…”

“And did I mention that practically all of the suitors I’ve dealt with thus far are at least thirty years my senior? Or more? The latest is almost an octogenarian!”

“By Faust…!” Pound exclaimed.

“I know, right?!” Flurry said, “What sort of pervert wants to marry a teenaged filly at that age?! Do they honestly think I’m going to be the doting, trophy wife?! Are they really so deluded into thinking that I will raise their status because I share their bedchambers?! This is Equestria, not ancient Unicornia!”

“OK, OK, I get,” Pound said, “you’re frustrated by all these ancient colts seeking your hand. Just, wow… I’m surprised that neither your mom or dad have made any objections about all these dirty old stallions sniffing up your tail.”

“Momma Applejack has said a few things,” Flurry confided, “in fact, she left the Council rather miffed by her- attitude. And I know that Mother and Father are besides themselves with worry about the selection process. But because they’re royalty, they are expected to uphold these old traditions… It really is unfair, especially to me.”

“Wow, damned if you, fucked if you don’t,” Pound muttered, “sounds like either way, somepony is going to get their tailhole reamed.”

“No kidding,” Flurry said, “no matter which way this goes down, I lose.”

“Well, however which way this plays out, know that I’m here for you, Flurry,” Pound replies, “I’ve got your back, no matter what.”

Flurry smiles, the burning in her cheeks increasing to a feverish level, and says, “Thank you, Pound. Even if it’s just listening to me vent my spleen… Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Pound replies, “that’s what friends do, according to Aunt Pinkie.”

“Your aunt is one crazy mare,” Flurry says, “but she isn’t beyond having a wise heart.”

Tiernan returns that moment with Pound Cake’s peach scone. She also lays down the bill for food and drinks. Her return walk to the bar is preceded by another wink at Pound Cake and succeeded by a triumphant wiggle of her hips in the colt’s general direction. Unbidden, Flurry was hit with a memory from three years ago. The night she nearly lost her virginity to the colt sitting beside her. The moment was burned into her mind, a moment when she acted her most confident and sensual. She could not understand why now, when she needed to call upon those resources when she needed them most. A question formed within her mind, one she wanted to ask now before her fortitude failed her. A voice rang out that blotted that query from her being.

“Well, well, what do we have here?”

The snide voice came from within the café, from where neither of the teenagers could tell. Then Flurry noticed the stallion with the newspaper sidle out from his booth and drop the periodical n the table. The sneer on the face of Lord Alfalfa was unmistakable to Flurry’s eyes. Her heart dropped into her stomach as the aged stallion frog marched towards the couple.

“Princess Flurry Heart,” oozed The Viscount, “a pleasure to see you here. I had the feeling you would be drawing up plans for the wedding…”

“W-w-wedding?” Flurry stammered, “have you lost your mind, Lord Alfalfa? What wedding are you talking about??”

“Why, my dear,” Lord Alfalfa crooned, “our pending nuptials. Your father and I have been negotiating the details of the ceremony. Your mother approved the match.”

“Wait, what?!” Pound gasped.

“I’m with him on this,” Flurry said, adding, “Wait, what?”

“Surely your parents have told you about all of this,” Lord Alfalfa crooned, “I had hopes we could be wed before the next new moon.”

“I would never-” Flurry protested.

“It is not a question if you would or not,” Alfalfa cut in, “it is, in fact, happening.”

“I’m sorry,” Pound said, “but what is going on now?”

“Apologies, young- colt,” Alfalfa sneered, “but this conversation is not for your ears. If it pleases you, it is best for to remove yourself, with haste, from this conversation.”

“Oh no,” Flurry growled, “no, no,no,no! You are not dictating what Your Princess can and cannot do, nor are you dictating what my dearest and oldest friend can do!”

“‘Dearest and oldest-?’” Pound repeated.

“Yes, dearest and oldest friend-” Flurry started before she was interrupted yet again.

“Your ‘friend’ would do well not interfere in matters that are not of his concern,” Alfalfa said, “this is a private matter, between you and I. As your soon-to-be husband, I would hope you will treat with a better degree of respect in the future-”

“There isn't any future between us,” Flurry spat, “I can disavow any arrangement or declaration my mother lays down about this whole affair. It is my choice, my life that will affected by all of this and I will not suffer some arrogant, half-witted, politician to share it!”

“Be that as it may,” Alfalfa stated, “your immediate future is decided. Unless you can produce another who could take my stead. Alas, there are none who can.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, pal,” Pound said.

“Again, little colt, it would behoove you not to mettle-” Alfalfa began.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to,” Pound said, “especially when you’re threatening my bride.”

A startled look spread over Lord Alfalfa’s face, then in a harsh whisper, he said, “What did you just say?”

“I think you know what I said and about whom I said it,” Pound challenged.

Clearing his throat, the crystal pony noble set himself as erect as he could given his advanced age and asked, “And who might you be? Little Colt?”

Glaring daggers at the viscount, the Pegasus replied, “My name is Cake, Pound Cake, and you best remember that!”

Pound went on a scathing rant, causing the arrogant Viscount to recoil. No commoner had ever been so flagrant in their opposition to his personage or plans before; the young stallion with stones of tungsten was proving as formidable as a runaway train. The entire café watched on, spectators to the biggest dressing down in the history of the Empire. While Pound Cake was a political novice, a non-entity in the world of Equestria socio-political realm, he savaged Lord Alfalfa with a wit unseen of any Pegasus. Flurry saw all of this with an increasing admiration for her not-quite-yet special somepony, all the while marveling as she found her hand enclosed in one of his.

The fluster she was dealing with all day had rose to fever pitch; three years ago to the day, she tried to claim him as her own, only for his mother (and her mother, by proxy) to “cock block” them. She was never certain what happened to Pound after they were discovered, and Pound and hadn’t written to her all that time, so she could never really know. Her mother, while understanding, threw the book at her. Her father was livid, also, and had the most stringent of guard details shadow her every move for an entire year. It’s hard to have a social life when forty-two guards parade around you, acting as chaperone. She couldn’t imagine how Pound got through that misadventure; she was going to need to ask him someday. Until then, she will revel in the sensation of his warm, strong hand holding hers firmly.

“Now you see here,” Lord Alfalfa barks, “you have no right to interfere in my business! Furthermore, I don’t see why you seem so adamant to be involved in any of this! This is between myself and my future bride, now do kindly stand aside!”

“I don’t think he has to do anything,” said a new voice.

“Daddy?” Flurry asked as a lithe, broad shouldered unicorn stallion stepped onto the scene.

Prince Shining Armor lived up to his name, in more ways than one. For a unicorn, he was much broader and more muscled than any normal stallion. Very few colts could measure up to his physique, though it was known a few Earth pony stallions came close. On this day, he was wearing his princely regalia, albeit over his all too familiar custom barding. The plate mail did not creak, clink, or moan as he strode forth, proud horn jutting from his helm, barely a head shorter than the young Pegasus he was looking towards with a measure of pride.

“Prince Shining Armor,” Lord Alfalfa said, bowing, “how wonderful to see you! And equipped in your finest armor, I see…”

“Save it, Viscount,” The Prince said, cutting Alfalfa across, “when my wife and I agreed to have you as our future son-in-law, we knew we were getting an ambitious elder stallion with delusions of grandeur. Imagine my surprise when the very colt I had hoped my darling oldest daughter would choose as her own comes not from nobility, but from the same sleepy little town my sister has as her demesne.”

Lord Alfalfa looks at his Prince with befuddlement. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty, but could you repeat that?”

“What part?”

“ALL OF IT.”

While The Prince-Protector of the Empire tore into the Viscount, Pound stood away from the two older stallions. During his rant against the discount, Pound’s wings flared, an obvious display of his anger. Even though his wingspan was very wide for a Pegasus, he wasn’t nearly as broad across as The Prince Consort. He wouldn’t have noticed this if weren’t for a slight movement of the former Guard Captain’s hand. He was being told, in acute, combat body language, to leave. The young Cake saw this as his exit, so he pulled on Flurry Heart’s arm as he walked backward to the nearest exit.

Flurry followed, a blush deepening over her muzzle, as the young pair fled away from the now arguing nobles. Soon, they were outside in the twilight, on a balcony off the twentieth floor. Neither of the young pony’s hearts had settled down since their escape. Flurry found her mind preoccupied by the heat rushing to her cheeks. The night three years ago was at the forefront of her mind, now reinforced by the most recent events.

When her voice finally resolved itself to speak, it came out higher pitched, like she was anxious or very nervous.

“You saved me,” Flurry said.

“Is that going to be a problem?” Pound asked.

Shaking her head, Flurry said, “No. I was beginning to flounder back there. I know what I wanted to say to counter his arguments, but I couldn’t get them to leave my brain.”

“I saw,” Pound said, “I was getting nervous; part of me was sure things would come to blows. I remember when that one filly stole your teddy bear-”

“Oh, Faust,” Flurry moaned, “that was ages and ages ago! I still didn’t the finest control over my magic then. How could you still remember that?”

“Well, outside of my sister, you’re the only filly I know that can shift a pony with magic. Lemon Peel will never get over being hoisted atop that flagpole by her mane.”

“Is she still mad about that?”

“I don’t think so,” he answered, “but I haven’t spoken to her in awhile. Her family moved out of Ponyville a while back.”

“Hopefully not over anything I did,” Flurry admitted.

“Nah,” Pound said, “I think her mother got posted to a new station in one of the frontier towns.”

“Oh,” Flurry said.

A silence fell over the duo; the sky above the Crystal Empire glowed with the Northern Lights. Bringing up old memories of their childhood did more than drum up nostalgia in the young ponies. Flurry hardly remembered the times that her mother and father visited her aunt in Ponyville. She did remember the Pegasus colt that she stayed with while the Princesses had a day out or her dad went about helping out with the Equestrian military. Lot’s of fun times which seemingly ended when-

“It’s hard to believe it’s been three years,” Pound said.

Flurry gulped and added, “Time sure has flown.”

“It sure has,” Pound says, “after seeing you today, my mind has flown back to that time. Can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Oh, uh,” Flurry said.

Her mind had entire soliloquies planned out to say to the Pound twin, but now she couldn’t bring her mouth to utter them. That moment was also coming to mind, the day she was within minutes of becoming a mare, and Pound bringing this up has flustered her to no end. She didn’t know where he was taking this, but she didn’t know if she should stop this potential train wreck.

“I didn’t know it was possible for a filly to get prettier,” Pound said, “yet, here you are. Try as I might, I could never bring myself to look at another mare after that night. It’s like- I dunno, love at first sight? Faust strike me down, but I never bought into that stuff, but here we are.”

“I think of that day, too,” Flurry said, watching Pound’s face become flush, “try as I might, I couldn’t find a colt here or in Equestria who I felt more affection for. It seems so silly, holding out for a one true love-”

“I bet your mom would say differently,” Pound said, “I bet she would say that you and I were meant to be.”

“You don’t know my mother,” Flurry said, though the grin on her face didn’t falter.

“You’re right,” Pound said, “but Princess twilight has told me enough about her for me to speculate. It sounds absurd, but I bet your mom set Lord Alfalfa in your way to bring me back into your life.”

“Now you’re talking conspiracy…” Flurry started.

“Maybe, maybe not. Either way, I’m glad this happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“I wanna be- more involved in your life,” Pound stated, “I miss what we had when we were foals. And I know we’ll never get that back, but- maybe we can be try for something more? Something better?”

“You know, I would like that,” Flurry said, “how would that work, though?”

“You have telephone, don’t ya?” Pound chides.

Flurry laughs, “Oh, right!”

“I’ll give you my number, my personal number, not the number to the shop,” Pound says, “and we can set up another date.”

“Yeah we ca- Wait, another date?”

“I’m going to consider this a first date,” Pound says, “a really horrible one, but we can work on that in the next one!”

“You’re being really optimistic about your chances for a second date,” Flurry chides, “what makes you think that I would acquiesce to another potential disaster?”

Pound thought on that and said, “Because I’m cute?”

“… Okay, I’ll give you that one.”

Pound then took out a slip of paper (her receipt, Flurry noted, for her cupcakes,) and scratched out a number on the back with a pre-loaded quill. After handing it to Flurry, he flapped his wings, and gave her broad smile. Faust damn me, he is just too damn cute!

3 Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice; That's What Little Fillies Are Made Of!

“So, who is she?” Pumpkin Cake asked of her brother.

Ambushed in the doorway, still soaking wet from the shower he just had, Pound Cake gave his twin sister a look. This look became a staple of his repertoire ever since returning from the Crystal Empire seven months back. His phone usage ratched up significantly and when his parents inquired about it, he said he met a cute filly up north, but he refused to proffer further details. Pumpkin took upon herself to investigate her brother’s paramour. She was met with ever increasing frustration, as Pound remained tight lipped about it all. She could plant a hoof up his plot for all his grandstanding but she stood doggedly to uncover the truth.

“Really?” Pound replied, “I’m soaking to my skin and you’re going to assail me with that? Again?”

“Come on, bro,” Pumpkin pleaded, “you gotta gimme something.”

“Wise stallion once say, ‘A gentlecolt must not ever kiss and tell.’” Pound said, “And that’s all you’re getting out of me. Now clear the door; I need to towel off and preen my wings.”

Pumpkin stood her ground; she wouldn’t let this subterfuge go on forever. No matter which way Pound took, Pumpkin blocked him. It was like the games they played as foals. Pumpkin would teleport directly into Pound’s flight path. As a young colt and filly, it was fun. Now they were nearly adults, such a juvenile game could become annoying quite quickly. Under the right circumstances, that game could turn deadly.

“Pumpkin, seriously, stop this,” Pound growled, “we aren’t four years old anymore.”

“Just tell me,” Pumpkin whined.

“I told you it’s none of your business,” Pound said, “and now I’m dripping all over the floor.”

“Tell me and you can dry off,” Pumpkin said.

“Not funny, sis,” Pound replied, “now move!”

There was a brief struggle, with Pound trying to flit past Pumpkin, Pumpkin quickly blocking every available route. Their quarrel got so intense and noisy that it eventually attracted the attention of a parental figure. Yet, the twins were so engrossed in their quarreling they didn’t notice their father stomping up the stairs. Even as he cleared his throat, Carrot Cake’s presence is still unseen.

“Alright, you two, move, or you’re going to be repairing the water damage,” Carrot Cake said, “you’ll start by replacing the floor boards.”

“Yes, father,” the twins said. Pumpkin stepped aside, allowing Pound to step past her and quickly sidled into his room.

“And Pumpkin,” Carrot said, “quit bothering your brother about his love life.”

“But, Dad-!” Pumpkin protested, but her father cut her off.

“Your mother and I don’t pry into your personal lives for a reason,” Carrot Cake began, “We trust you two to make good decisions and not to fall for some of the pitfalls that adolescence brings. That doesn’t mean we don’t care about you two or that we prefer to be negligent with your upbringing. We just don’t think it’s a smart idea to be overprotective parents. I mean, look at your friend Snails. His dad brings the hammer down on his unicorn abilities. I can understand it, being another Earth pony, but I would never order you or your brother to not be who you are. So, please, stop pestering him or your mother and I will make the decision that you have entirely too much free time on your hands.”

“OK, dad,” Pumpkin sighs, “I’ll stop. I’m still curious, but I guess it’s really up to him if and when he decides to tell is about his fillyfriend.”

“I’m fine with that,” her father says, “to be honest, I’m curious about this filly myself. It’s not my business to pry, though. If your brother has found a filly he adores, and he’s being a responsible young colt, then I see no reason to get in his way. Your mother feels the same way- after a fashion.”

“‘After a fashion?’” Pumpkin asks.

“Oh, she’s right curious, as you might imagine,” Carrot Cake said, “but I think she’s holding it in better. And she’s more subtle about probing for openings. She hasn’t found any but if anything, she’s persistent.”

“Oh, I see. I think I get it,” Pumpkin said, causing her fathers eyebrows to raise for a bit, “actually, no, I don’t get it. But I think I understand what you’re saying, Dad. I should just- let it go and see how it all shakes out.”

Smiling, Carrot rubs his daughter’s mane, saying, “That’s my girl. You ready for work?”

“Just about,” Pumpkin said, “I just want to put a brush through my mane.”

“OK, honey,” Carrot said, “store opens in ten minutes.”

“OK, dad,” Pumpkin beams.

“And son, your train leaves in twenty, might want to get a move on.”

“OK, dad,” comes Pound’s voice from other side of his bedroom door.

“Where’s Pound going?” Pumpkin asks.

“The Crystal Empire,” Carrot replies, “we’re negotiating a space for a new branch out that way!”

“How come mom isn’t doing the negotiations?”

“Your mom would but- she has some other obligations that need to be addressed; your mother and I also agreed that Pound needs some more responsibility. These negotiations should be a good test if he capable of handling a new role. Now come on, store opens in five.”

“What sort of obligations are we talking about?” Pumpkin asked.

Carrot stopped mid-step down the staircase, then called back, “You’ll find out later.”

As it turned out, Cup Cake’s other obligations include a new colt or filly growing within her. The Cakes had been to Dr. Stable earlier in the month when Cup kept vomiting in the morning. She was of the age now where any mare would be hysteric, unable to produce eggs for fertilization. Granted, Cup Cake had only just reached that age of a mare’s life, so the pregnancy came as a total surprise. Pound and Pumpkin were overjoyed to hear about a younger brother or sister; Carrot was just relieved he could pull off the feat that gave them the twins once more, given how long it had been since they came into the world.

With that happy news, Pound was on the express train heading north back to The Crystal Empire. He was excited for his return, not only because he was preparing a new Sugar Cube Corner in the Frozen North, but also because he and Flurry Heart had a very important date tonight. The pair had been dating for the last six months or so, quietly supported by Princess Cadence and her husband, Prince-Consort Shining Armor. (There was also a lot of solidarity coming from Auntie Applejack and her two foals, especially Radiant Shield.) This was likely to be the busiest business trip he had undergone since his mother abdicated the role to him; he hoped he lived up to her standards.

Up next, after a brief stop at a new settlement for water and coal, was The Crystal Empire Weigh Station. Not unlike most railroad stations, The Weigh Station was the point where cargo and goods was unloaded. It was there, well inside the barrier that protected The Empire from the foreboding frost outside, that Pound disembarked on his fateful encounter with the young heir to The Empire. He just hoped nothing was going to disrupt the weekend. It was almost Winter Estrus and Faust only knew how they handled things like that this far north…

The tingle that started late last night threatened to disturb Flurry Heart, crown Princess of The Crystal Empire and alicorn of some magical renown, from her court duties. Mother and Father insisted on her aid in wrangling her little brother for bathtime; the colt had a propensity for finding and splashing in mud puddles, despite the notorious lack of mud within the Empire and the abundance of crystal that composed most of the streets and neighborhoods around the Crystal Palace. He was a speedy little thing, managing to outstrip even the fastest of the Crystal guard and her own father. Thankfully, the foal had yet to learn to beware the skies, as she had tracked him down to the market square on the winds.

She was looking at Rusty Coat, still mud splattered and energetic, down below. Her wings were keeping her aloft, even if she was as stealthy as a rampaging ursa major. The populace of the Crystal Empire did not have enough experience with Pegasi to look up at their beloved Heir to The Empire, so she wasn’t attracting much attention. There were a few ponies that would see her shadow and stare, but Rusty wasn’t keeping track of those ponies, anyway.

She set herself softly amongst the throng, being wary of pony’s surprise or any acknowledgement of her stature. None did, thankfully. The muddy, boisterous colt was still oblivious to the presence of his oldest sister, although he was distracted fairly well. Flurry could not help but notice the filly, at best a year or two older, that seemed to fawn over Rust. He wasn’t completely oblivious, given he seemed to be speaking with her (Flurry had a sigh of relief when she realized he wasn’t speaking at the filly.) The sight of the two foals stirred something within the young princess, something that triggers a cascade of emotions and sensations throughout her body.

A soft moan escaped her muzzle as the sensation peaked, which in turn caused several ponies nearby to give her quizzical looks. This also had the unfortunate effect of bringing her unwarranted attention by the stallions and older colts roundabout. This inevitably caused Rust to turn his head in the direction of Flurry with a nonplussed look upon his face. The emotion was quickly wiped off with a smile when he recognized his half-sister.

“Hiya, Flurry!” Rusty beamed, “whatcha doin’ here?”

“I’m here to get you home, Squirt,” Flurry said, through a haze of longing she had ignored for far too long this day, “Mother says you need a bath and Momma Jackie agrees. Faust only knows where you even find mud in The Crystal Empire, but…”

Rust’s gaze turned to the ground for a moment before he sniffed at the air. A puzzled look flitted over his muzzle, like he caught wind of something and it didn’t agree with him for whatever reason. The filly, whose name Flurry realized was Fluted Glass, has a similar look but it blended seamlessly with befuddlement. Then a dread filled Flurry’s heart, because of the reaction many of the stallions (and more than a few colts around her age) were having. Oh, for the love of Faust…! I cannot be going into estrus now!

“Sissy?” Rust said, “do ya know what that weird smell is? I kinda like it but I cain’t tell fer sure what it is…”

“Neither can I,” Fluted Glass said, “it puts me in mind of raspberry pie. And something else… like, autumn leaves and- foals. Foal powder, maybe? Huh, that’s weird.”

“Okay, that’s enough about the weird smell,” Flurry said, “come on, Rusty, we need to go.”

“Aw, come on, Sis,” Rusty Coat whined, “I don’t wanna take a bath!”

“Are you going to stop jumping in puddles?” Flurry asked.

“Uh, no,” Rusty Coat answered.

“Then you need a bath,” Flurry countered, “like now.”

“But Mama doesn’t take as many baths as I do!”

“That’s because your Mama has ponies that bath her,” Flurry said, “and she doesn’t wallow in mud puddles. Now let’s go!”

“Alright, alright,” Rusty said, “see ya later, Fluty.”

“Bye, Rusty!”

“Come on, bro,” Flurry said, “the sooner you get home, the sooner dad stop the impending coronary he’s likely going to have.”

“Yeah, I don’t wanna stress out Dad anneh more than Ah already have,” Rusty said, “but why do I smell blueberries? Do you walk through a blueberry pie factory?”

“Not to my knowledge,” Flurry answered, “I flew, for your information.”

“Oh,” Rusty said, “still, mah nose is gettin’ blueberries- Did you change yer bodywash? The smell is comin’ from you.”

‘Uh,” Flurry said, “No, I didn’t. It’s the same wash I’ve been using for years.”

“Oh.”

“You know,” Flurry said, realizing what it was that Rusty was picking up, “I think this is one of those things that Dad and your mom should talk to you about. You do know the differences between fillies and colts, right?”

“Ah been told,” Rusty replied, “colts have a penis an’ testicles; they are responsible for providing spermatozoa for ‘pony reproduction.’ Fillies have a vagina, an’ their bodies have ovaries that supply eggs that the sperm is supposed t’ fertilize.”

“That- is surprisingly clinical summary,” Flurry said, “well, if I’m being honest, I’m- I’m of the age where I am getting ready for making foals.”

“Ya mean yer pregnant?!”

“What?!” Flurry snapped, “NO! No!! Tartarus, I haven’t even lost my virginity, yet! I guess you could say I’m- in season. You know what I mean?”

“In season-?” Rusty asked, “Oh! Like when Momma and Dad are being all huggy feely with each other come spring and winter, right?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty close,” Flurry said, “it’s my time to start with those- things and my body is- well it’s getting ready and driving me nuts. Faust damn me, but estrus is the worst!”

Rusty said, “Ya’ll better not let Momma hear ya say things like that.”

“I won’t,” Flurry said, “and if you keep your mouth shut about it, I’ll sneak you some ice cream from the Royal Kitchens. You still like gala apple flavor?”

“Ya bet Ah do!”

“Then come on, then, bro,” Flurry stated, “the sooner you get bathed, the sooner you get ice cream. After dinner, though.”

“YAY!”

Pound was sitting across a boardroom table, straining incessantly at the business suit he had to wear. The other ponies in the room, a Ms. Pink Pearl, a Ms. Amethyst, and a Miss Blue Violet Garnet, were overlooking the contract that Pound had carried with him all the way from Ponyville. The legal document was to cement a new Sugar Cube Corner franchise in The Crystal Empire. His parents hammered it out with the family lawyer; as an added precaution, they had Princess Twilight parse over the form for errors or contradictions. Much to her credit, The Element of Magic found little to correct, but have some addendums to add to certain passages in the contract. Those were edited into the contract in short order and Twilight gave an additional proofreading.

Sitting now, in the overlarge room, sweating buckets even in this chilly conference chamber, Pound was wondering if he was really up to the task of launching a Sugar Cube Corner franchise outside of Equestria. He really didn’t know if he was the right pony for the job, or if he had the experience necessary to call all the shots with any measure of confidence. The young stallion was desperate trying not to imagine how he would handle the hiring or firing of personnel. He was absolutely certain that he was wholly unqualified to do the job.

“Well, I find no qualms with this,” Ms. Pearl stated, her measured and calm voice cutting through all of Pound’s insecurities, “my partners and I would gladly put our hooves to this contract.”

“Yeah, this looks good,” Ms. Amethyst said, her gravelly voice in diametric opposition to Ms. Pearls soft tones, “rock solid contract, no errata, no loopholes, exactly what I would expect from a business document from either a fellow Crystal Pony or a unicorn.”

“We did have Princess Twilight give it a once over,” Pound admitted.

“That is a reasonable expectation,” Ms. Garnet opined, “you do live in proximity to The Princess of Friendship, so it stands to reason you would employ her clever eye for detail in such dealings.”

“So you’ll sign it?” Pound asked.

“We will,” Ms. Pearl said, “but only after our last partner arrives.”

“Rose Quartz said he would late,” Ms. Amethyst said, “but he should have been here by now.”

“He’ll arrive,” Ms. Garnet said, her smooth and reassured voice a comfort to Pound’s ears, “in fact, I think I hear him now.”

“I’M ON MY WAY!” came a voice from the corridor beyond.

“There he is,” Ms. Amethyst said with a smile.

Bursting through the doorway was a young stallion, somewhat portly,sporting the crystalline coat of all the citizens of the Crystal Empire. His poofy mane and tail were a dark contrast to his rose colored body, and his shiny eyes were alive with delight and hope. He was breathing hard, Pound assumed because he was running Tartarus bent for leather.

“Citrine just had our foals!” Rose Quartz announced, “TWINS! Can you believe it!”

“Congratulations, Quartz!” Ms. Pearl said, “you are now officially a father.”

“Way to go, stud!” Ms. Amethyst beamed.

“And how are the foals?” Ms. Garnet asked, “Fillies? Colts?”

“A filly and a colt!” Rose Quartz beamed, “we haven’t decided on names yet, though.”

“Pearl is an excellent name…”

Rose Quartz shook his head, his mane flopping about his face as he did so, “I don’t think Citrine would agree to that.”

“Whatever names you give them,” Ms. Garnet said sagely, “will be fitting to the twins. Let your hearts guide in that decision.”

“Thank you, Garnet,” Rose Quartz said, “now, enough about my personal life, let’s get to business. How’s the contract?”

“Airtight,” Ms. Amethyst said, “no flaws or errors. It’s win-win for all parties.”

“No signatures?” Rose Quartz asked.

“We were waiting for you,” Ms. Pearl said.

“Oh, I see,” Rose Quartz sputtered, “well, let me put my hoof mark on this so we can start setting up the site, get all the permits written up, and have a working business model to shoot off of.”

“Yes, let’s,” Pound said, “and by the way, congratulations!”

“Thank you, thank you,” Rose Quartz said, “and to you, too. I hear you and Princess Flurry Heart are courting?”

A nervous laugh came out of Pound before he answered, “Yeah, we are. It’s only been three months or so, but it feels like years.”

Rose Quartz smiles as he nods, saying, “Young love, amirite?”

The sound of a toilet flushing comes from the water closet adjoining the Royal Dining Hall. Princess Cadence, her two daughters and youngest son, Shining Armor, and Pound Cake are seated around the dining hall table, where a bountiful spread of food and drink was laid. Nopony said a word as Applejack returned to the table, recently vacated of the water closet, a deep blush forming on her muzzle. The blush remained as she resumed her seat next to Shining Armor’s right side.

“Ah’m right sorreh, ya’ll,” Applejack said, “these twins, ya’ll… They keep bucking my bladder and making me pee ev’ry ten minutes or so. It’s awful inconvenient.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Pound replied, “my mom has a little brother and/or sister on the way now. She tinkles every five minutes or so and it’s just a single foal! I’m actually surprised that you aren’t going to the bathroom more.”

“Much obliged, sugarcube,” Applejack said, “Ah hope Ah didn’t ruin the mood.”

“There was nothing to ruin,” Princess Cadence answered, “besides, I can sympathize. When I was with Flurry, it felt like my bladder was made of tissue paper. I think, one time, I had to go to the little fillies room no less than six times in a single half hour. And during an important government function, no less!”

“Thankfully,” Shining interjected, “you had a stallion who was well versed in all things regarding the functions of The Empire.”

“Thank you sweetie,” Cadence said, kissing her stallion on the cheek, “I couldn’t do this without you.”

“Well, you could,” he replied, “but I guess it helps to have a partner that can help you be in two places at once.”

The Royal Couple nuzzle each other as the rest of the party looks on. Radiant watches her parents in awe while Rusty turns his head to mimic gagging. Flurry, meanwhile, is trying really hard to not look upon her progenitors without feeling ashamed or envious. Her heat was driving her nuts but nopony at the table commented on it and Rusty was keeping his word. Radiant had mentioned and- well, she didn’t think Pound was going to say anything but on the other hoof, he wasn’t in the know. She would, very shortly, correct that oversight.

As the dinner continued, various topics came up for discussion. Applejack started things off with a topic she was intimately familiar with: foals. Shining and Cadence joined in, followed by opinions from the gallery in the form of Rusty Coat, Radiant Shield, and Flurry Heart. Pound stayed out of that, given he was ill experienced in that arena. Numerous other topics followed, including some little political commentary. Eventually, the topics of conversation came to the recent news of Pound Cake’s new business venture.

“So, Pound,” Cadence began, “a little Pegasus told me you just started a new career? Care to elaborate?”

“Sure,” Pound said, “now that the final negotiations are done, I can safely say that The Crystal Empire will soon be getting a new confectionary and yours really will be its general manager.”

“Congratulations!” Shining exclaimed, “your parents must be ecstatic.”

“Well, this has been something in the making for years, really,” Pound replied, “of course, Mom and Dad are thrilled, not only for the new business but also for my role in getting this project off the ground. It’s been a long and bumpy ride but a rewarding journey all the same.”

“Is Pinky goin’ be comin’ up here?” Applejack asked.

“She will, in an instructor capacity,” Pound answered, “we already have a small corps of bakers that will run the kitchen, but the associate and apprentice bakers aren’t as accomplished. Pinkie is going to continue their training so we have a stable of cooks in the kitchen.”

“Does-” Flurry began, as a wave of heat surged within her, “does that mean you’ll be up here more often?”

“Well, in truth, I’ll probably be renting an apartment here in The Empire,” Pound admitted, “it’ll be hard, being so far from home, away from my parents- although a respite from my sister is a welcome boon- but this will be a necessary stepping stone.”

“Where are you renting?” Cadence asked.

“Off of Opal Road,” Pound asked, “at Twelve Carat Apartments. The place is really nice, has all the amenities, the rent is favorable and includes all utilities. It even has a jack for a telephone.”

“Oh, yeah, The Twelve Carats,” Shining said, “that’s the new complex on Jade Street. I have a few of the Royal Guard staying there; they can’t stop raving about the place.”

“They shouldn’t,” Pound added, “it’s a top notch place. It compares to some of the pricier apartment towers in Manehattan, but for a third the price and with accomodations for Pegasi.”

“That sounds amazing,” Flurry said, “is it fully furnished?”

“It is,” Pound beamed, “I stopped by today to set down some personal mementos. Had a quick nap on the bed… It’s an actual cloud bed! I’ve never slept on one before! It’s amazing!”

“Clouds are the best for naps!” Flurry replied.

“But of course,” Cadence stated, “especially when you’re foaling. I don’t know how Earth ponies and unicorns give birth without one.”

“They manage,” Shining said, “though I suspect that even the most magically gifted unicorn could use a cloud for a foaling.”

“Why are we even on this topic?” Radiant asked, “I thought were talking about Pound Cake’s new business?”

“Training begins in two weeks,” Pound said, “the site for the shop is almost ready, just waiting on furnishings, and the zoning board to declare it a business. The building is already set up for water and power, I have a telephone installation pony coming in at the end of the week to install the phone, and the ovens were part of the building before so I don’t need to wait on their installation.”

“Sounds like yer all but open fer business,” Applejack said, “when’s the grand openin’?”

“Should be by the end of the month,” Pound replied, “if everything goes without a hitch. Faust only knows that if anything can go wrong, it will go wrong.”

“Hear, hear,” Shining said, “well, I say it’s a good thing Sugarcube Corner is coming to The Empire. It should help build deeper ties between the Crystal Ponies and the rest of Equestria.”

“Here’s to building better diplomatic relations- through baking!” Cadence toasted, and all the ponies at the table raised their glasses.

When the dinner ended, Pound stuck around a while, discussing business matters with The Princess and her Consort. The discussion was lively but pleasant and in the end, Pound came away with the idea that the ponies of The Crystal Empire would enjoy some baked goods straight from Equestrian kitchens. He wasn’t planning on returning back to Ponyville tonight; indeed, his plans including a date night with Flurry Heart that include a walk through the Royal Gardens, a night of dancing at a local discoteque (a relatively new thing in The Empire,) and then after, well, who knew where it would go after all that.

The night had carried the pair far afield, eventually culminating in a moonlit walk along the streets of The Empire. They had spoken of damn near everything they could think of and even a few things that sprung to mind while they strolled. It took a while, but eventually they ran out of topics to discuss. The night air was cool for this late in summer, but it paled in comparison to the harsh permafrost conditions present beyond The Crystal Heart’s protective magical dome.

“Oh, Faust,” FLurry Heart sighed, “I really don’t want to go home tonight.”

“Too drunk?” Pound joked.

“Oh, not funny,” Flurry snapped, “no, I just- Ugh, I’m not really in any state to go back.”

“Why is that?” The stallion on her arm asked.

“Well- Oh, I don’t think it fair if I tell you,” the princess said.

“If it’s embarrassing, I promise not to laugh,” Pound stated.

Flurry looked upon Pound’s face, and her heart began racing. The smell of a potent stallion filled her nostrils; the pungency of the aroma was intoxicating to her estrus rattled mind. She would very much wanted to find a quiet place to strip Pound down, take his stallionhood deep inside her and let him rut her until she was a quivering mush of content satisfaction.

“Okay, I’ll tell you,” Flurry began, “I- um, I- just started having my estrus.”

“Oh,” Pound said, “is that what I’ve been smelling all evening?”

“I- guess?” Flurry replied, “I don’t think I’ve ever been in estrus like this before. I was really kinda- sudden.”

“Wait, hold on,” Pound began, “this- Three years ago, when we- nearly… Were you enduring estrus then?”

Flurry nodded, “I was. It was my first real heat. Uh, I- I wasn’t taking any of the advice my mom gave me. I should have stayed near her, so that she could cast the spell to help keep my symptoms in check. But-”

“But what?” Pound asked.

“If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have met you!” Flurry beamed.

“So, if I were to suggest that we finished what we started all those years ago-?”

“Pending a quiet place so we have some modicum of privacy,” Flurry purred, gripping the stallion’s arm painfully, “I would strip you down and ride you hard.”

“Oh!” Pound exclaimed, “well, uh, I mean, I do have my apartment. It isn’t much, more a bachelor pad than anything, but I do have a cloud bed, especially packed by Aunt Dash.”

“I almost forgot you have a cloud bed!” Flurry gasped.

“Uh, yeah, I do,” Pound stated, “you wanna help me- break it in…?”

For all of twenty blocks, Flurry Heart carried Pound Cake, bridal style, to his apartment complex. She took the route he described wholly by wing, to avoid being seen by her subjects and any busybodies still out on a night like this. All the while, her nethers throbbed with need; her heart pounded roughly against her ribs even as her wings flapped long and fast in the summer night air. She burned from within and the scent of stallion in her nostrils was driving her to distraction. Soon…

She found his building quickly enough and landed on roof of the building with a little too much force. Cracks webbed out from where her hooves struck the roofing, but the cracks weren’t very deep. She would pay for the repairs of the damage later. Now, she had a stallion to bed and a heat to calm down. The Princess set her stallion down, and he stumbled slightly to reach the roof access door. He was able to open it with a minimum of effort and the pair trotted down to his third floor flat.

Two flights of stairs, and they arrived at his floor. Pound fished for his keys, produced them from a pocket of his jeans, and then fumbled with them to get them in the lock. When he did finally disengage the knob lock, he pushed in the door; Flurry then pushed him in, locking his lips with hers, crushing into his body as she rushed forward into his apartment. When she finally released him from the kiss, she looked around to take in her surroundings.

His flat was a rather bland bachelor pad. They were currently in the sitting room, with a cheap sofa taking up much of the room. A kitchenette was situated on her right, with a makeshift table sitting in the center. On her left, Flurry Heart saw a small closet, where she could see a few jackets residing there. An open door showed her the bathroom that was more a half bath. Her eyes did pick up a cloud shower, though, so if they were going to do what she thought they were going to do, she would have a nice time getting clean. The there was the bedroom.

Pound took her hand and lead her into his bedchamber. It was half the size of her own walk in closet, but the coziness was endearing for her. And his cloud bed was a thing of legend. Easily a meter thick, soft, fluffy, and the purest of whites, it was clothed with silk sheets and memory foam pillows (rather expensive, seeing as they are a Neighponese import,) it was a bed made for royalty.

“How in-?” Flurry asked.

“Oh, it’s one of the things I’m good at,” Pound answered, “ya know, besides baking and operating a business.”

Flurry looked upon this crowning achievement in sleeping bliss that Pound had created and whispered, “Marry me.”

“Wut?!” Pound exclaimed, “Flurry, are you alright?”

“Wut?” The young princess stated, “p-shaw! No, no, everything’s fine, I’m fine. Everything is fine! Uh, how are you?”

“I’m confused,” Pound admitted, “things are going astray and I-” He sniffed the air and his pupils went wide, “Flurry Heart, are you in heat?”

“Um,” Flurry said, trying to stall but not knowing how at the moment, then said in a tiny whisper, “maybe a little?”

“FLURRY!” Pound shouted.

Given his proximity to her ears, his raised voice caused to her to wince. The young stallion saw that and looked abashed. Flurry wasn’t certain as to why he was reacting this way, but-

“Okay, confession time,” she began, “do you remember, all those years ago, when I came to you in Ponyville?”

“Yeah,” Pound said, “one of the happiest memories of my life Why?”

“Well, uh, that was-” Flurry continued, “that was my very first estrus. I had- managed to slip away from Mother and I was just hoping to find some comfort food or some distraction or other, when I came upon The Sugarcube. You were there and so- male, plus very cute in your pin striped apron… I was desperate and horny but… Even though we never get to do what I what I really want to do with you right now, I- I kinda hoped it might mean something more? I don’t- I don’t know anypony like you, either in The Empire or anywhere else in Equestria. I- I know my mother would think I was hit with love at first sight, and maybe she’s right, but you’ve been on my mind, off and on, over the years. And- and- and while the prospect of- f-f-f-foals kinda scares me… I would- I would really, really like to have this moment with you. I don’t care if we sire a foal or not- if it’s with you, then all will end up will, I think. Though, I think my dad might murder you in your sleep…”

“Oh,” Pound said, as understanding came to his mind, “You’re wondering if- if this roll in the hay is going to mean anything to me or not. Aren’t you?”

Flurry simply nodded her head.

Pound then added, “Well, if I’m being totally honest, there’s been a part of me that’s been dreaming of this day since- well, almost forever. You may think incredulous, you may think me a liar, but I haven’t dated my fillies. I had a few moments with you and- well, you’re perfect! You could say I was spoiled because of you.”

“Oh, stop that- !” Flurry aid as a blush rose upon her cheeks.

“It’s true, though,” Pound stated, “those mares- they just weren’t what I was looking for. Many of them seemed to think I has some coin behind my name. I think they only saw me for the bits my family has… I haven’t ever given thought that you would put that into consideration when you look at me.”

“I don’t need to,” Flurry whispered, “I have an empire and you have a bakery. Although it is a very good bakery, one of the best.”

“See?”

Again, Flurry nodded.

“So, now that we’re done with fear and loathing on Mane Street,” Pound smirked, “are we going to get naked and do this?”

There was a tinkle of magic, from Flurry’s own horn, and both mare and stallion were as bare as the day they were born. She gave him a devilish grin and the hint of mischief in her eyes said so much but revealed so little. Still, he couldn’t help but be drawn to them.

“Yes, my stallion,” Flurry purred, “let’s cut all the witty patter and get down to brass tacks.”

“An Earth pony phrase?” He asked.

“But of course,” she answered, “now, take me, mark me, make me a mare, you gorgeous, considerate, luscious stallion you!”

A goofy grin spread across Pound’s muzzle, and then with ease and gentleness, he grabbed Flurry to deposit on her on his bed. Along the way, he noted how warm she was, positively heated, an oven during baking was how he would describe it. And so soft… her coat against his was downy feathers laid against silk. The stirring in his loins would be appropriate as he gazed upon this minor goddess that wanted him as much as he wanted her.

As soon as she was laid upon his bed, he lay astride her, his eagerness and the scent of estrus roiling together for a perfect storm of love, maybe also of lust. With a simple, terse nod, Flurry told him she was as ready as she could be. Pound sidled forward from his prone position, nudging her mare bits with his stallionhood, that warmth she emanated nearly scolding him. He didn’t want to be rude, going in when she wasn’t ready, though she showed all the signs of being so. Still, when a mare was ready, she had subtle (and not so subtle) ways of telling you. Flurry didn’t seem the subtle type to him.

“I’m ready when you are, Pound,” she whimpered, “do your name proud.”

“I’m going to ignore the puns and accidental poetry for the moment…” he told her. Her smirk, which he supposed was to make her look mischievous, actually made her look sexy. That was all that he needed to resolve himself. With a sharp thrust of his hips, the tip of his erection penetrated her folds, allowing an inch of his length to sink into her overheated, wet core. She gasped when he did so, her body convulsing as her arms and legs wrapped around him, her hooves coming together across his back, a padlock to keep him in place.

Pound watched Flurry’s expression as he lay there, inserted partially within her, for any signs of duress. Though she hissed when he first went in, she seemed in no pain and was panting, either from want, exhaustion, or exertion, he couldn’t quite tell. After a moment, though, she was able to gaze back at him, her eyes locking his in place and she nodded. With that confirmation, he pushed himself further inside her, until he was fully hilted. His medial ring was embedded within her, the act of which sent Flurry scratching his back, just above his wings. It stung, but…

The oscillation of her passage was so intense, so pleasurable, that Pound didn’t think he could ever extricate himself from it in a thousand years. He had to muse, a little, whether Prince Armor had ever developed a tolerance for his wife’s channel. Then Pound decided he didn’t want or need to know about that. With that abstract thought pushed aside (and given the hot filly he was currently in the act of making love to, he could stand to lose that thought permanently,) he withdrew himself almost completely. Flurry whimpered, for she loved how her stallion filled her so thoroughly, only to gasp when he thrust back in, his length stroking every square picometer inside her. The sensation was so novel and so powerful, she felt a rush of something from within her.

That sensation did not ebb as Pound withdrew and thrust in again. In fact, the sensation grew. Flurry knew that her estrus would make her more sensitive all over. Already, Pound’s tightly pack chest was rubbing in her breasts and nipples in a way that lit little storms across the skin of those areas. His well developed arms, the result of shifting heavy bags of flour, sugar, salt, as well as bushels of fruit, clung to her, adding a joyous pressure to her torso that didn’t stifle her breath; the act of sex was doing that enough for her.

In no time at all, Pound had reached a stable rhythm from which to entertain Flurry. Flesh pounded on sweaty flesh in a musical pattern of slaps, moans, groans, and gasps. Hardly five minutes into it, and Flurry was about to launch herself into orbit. Her nethers writhed in ecstasy, her mind far afield as waves of pleasure rolled over her. She hadn’t even come close to cresting but the overload of pleasant feelings was starting to overwhelm, even subsume her mental cogency. The swelling of rapture within her was threatening to tear her to pieces. Then Pound thrust in with special vigor- It was too much, way too much, she couldn’t hold it in, it was too great-!

Writhing in Pound’s arms and around his stallionhood, Flurry experienced an explosive climax. She had known climaxes before; some were accidental (like that time in the seesaw when her seat came up against too her fast,) while others were purposeful (the night before she decided to allow Pound to deflower her, she spent a few minutes (Hours) bringing herself to her plateau.) Even so, this new peak was greater than any she had before, igniting flowers of delight all over her body, rending all conscious thought null.

That was soon paled in comparison, when Pound began to play with her teats. His right hand began to knead her left breast; his mouth latched onto her right nipple as his left hand groped that breast. Flurry felt her heart jump deeply in her chest; she had never played with her bosom in this way before and she just now discovered she loved it when her breasts were given such attention. She didn’t know if it was her estrus making her more sensitive or whether her bosom had always been an erogenous zone for her, but she didn’t question it more than that. Especially when she was reaching another peak.

Pound found himself in the enviable position of suckling on Flurry Heart’s mammaries. They weren’t enormous things, like what Snips, Snails, Pipsqueak, and himself had seen in nude magazines behind the elementary school. (“Nude mares!” exclaimed the blurb on one such title, “NAKED SORORITY PEGASI GET DOWN AND DIRTY FOR YOU!” declaimed the other.) They weren’t mosquito bites, either. They filled his palm, and there just enough for his fingers to knead, but not so much tissue that he needed a second hand to grope one. Were he not involved in sucking and slurping the nipple of his current target, he would have said they were exemplary.

He did, however, have to cease from thrusting. He was nearing the end of his tether, so to speak, and thinking about hoofball, muffins, or Uncle Cheese Sandwich in the buff were not providing the distraction he needed to keep going. (And yes, he had, inadvertently, seen Pinkie’s beau in the nude, one. Well, to be honest, he’d seen the mad party stallion waltzing about Sugar Cube Corner in his birthday suit more often than he cared to mention. Faust only knew how Pumpkin handled him if she ever saw him in such a state.) So, to keep from “busting his nut,” he slid into Flurry’s channel, all the way past his medial ring, and stayed there. He wouldn’t last long in the position; he would either ejaculate while holding himself inside or lose his erection completely. Even so, there was no way either he or Flurry could keep this up for long.

Another crest, another budding ecstasy, and Flurry lost herself in the splash of rapture that erupted from her very core. Pound wasn’t even moving (she could feel his throbbing erection seated deep inside her still,) and yet orgasm after orgasm flooded her mind, her spirit. Her body could be flagging, but with her estrus amplifying all sensations, she didn’t care. It could go on forever and might never ever be enough. A part of her did wonder if this was what sex was like for her mother. Princess Mi Amore Cadenzea was the princess of love, after all, and sex was a vital aspect of a loving relationship. Flurry didn’t want to think of the implications that much further. While she loved Mama Applejack to pieces, she couldn’t imagine another stallion doing what Pound was doing to her now to her mother. The idea would simply now reconcile in her mind. And even so, an alicorn’s unique physiology meant that at some point, Pound would not be enough to sate her. She desperately hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Evidence to the contrary, though, could be found in Princesses Celestia, Luna, and now her aunt, Twilight Sparkle. How a dedicated bibliophile like Auntie Twilight managed to gather a harem, Flurry didn’t know. She was certain it wasn’t really any of her business.

Pound shifted his focus to the other breast, not wanting to chafe Flurry bosom so. The reaction he got doing that simple maneuver was immediate and sudden. Flurry arched her back, to Pound it seemed she was asking for him to dive deeper into her breast, then she issued a moan so deep, it reverberated deep in his marrow. Flurry trembled underneath him, as though a live wire had come up through the bed and struck her. Her fingers pressed into his back, scraping deep into his skin, languishing near the base of his wings. A stray digit clipped his left wing at the joint and Pound seized up with tension. He was going to do it, he was going to blow his load, his was going to loose his essence inside of Flurry…

The flushing sound from the water closet closet told Shining Armor, Prince Consort of The Crystal Empire, that his herd mate had finished relieving herself. Applejack, in the final trimester of her twins gestation, waddled her way from the bathroom, a look of relief on her face. Shining smiled as set the book he was reading down, casting a loving look at his very pregnant bride as she ambled into bed beside him; Princess Flurry was fast asleep on Shining’s other side.

“Phew, I gotta tell ya,” Applejack said, “having a pair of foals before was tough ‘nuff, but wins? By golly, they’s giving twice the hassles in half the time.”

“I didn’t think that would give you so much trouble, AJ.” Shining said.

“Ah, ain’t much trouble,” Applejack replied, “heck, Apple Bloom was more difficult than what these two varmints are doing, an’ she’s ma sister. Which makes me right fond of the way you and Twilight interact wit’ each other. More than mighty cordial, which is a blessing from Faust.”

“I’d say so,” Shining said, then, “wasn’t Flurry supposed to be home by now?”

“I reckon she was-” Applejack began, “well, it’s not that filly is going outta her way to frustrate ya. Ah think she’s just having a good time with her beau. I’m just hopin’-”

Shining, who had began to peruse his book again, dropped it as AJ stopped speaking.

“You’re hoping she won’t what?”

“Well, you didn’t happen to notice, didja?”

“Notice wha-” Shining started, then, “Oh my. Oh, Faust! Flurry is in season!”

“I was wondering if ya’d get that,” AJ said, “Cadence done tol’ me she was in heat, but handlin’ it. I don’t think she’ll do nothin’ egregiously stupid.”

“But,” Shining started, “she could do something- stupid.”

AJ pondered this a moment, then replied, “Well, a mare in estrus is a mighty wonder. No tellin’ what that filly will do. But she should b’fine. Pound Cake is a responsible colt an’ he should recognize the signs well enough. Ah mean, he did grow up in Ponyville, of all things.”

“I-” Shining began, hlated, then began again, “I guess you’re right. But we,” he pointed Cadence, himself, and AJ, “should have a long talk with her.”

“Ah guess yer right,” AJ said, then yawned, “should get some sleep, if they’ll let me.”

“You’re right,” Shining said, “big day tomorrow. Lot’s of ruling and keeping an empire safe.”

AJ had started to snore lightly as Shining finished speaking. He lay his head on his pillow, snuggled by his two brides. The comfort in their touch, their warm breath on his coat, the silken sheets underneath him, it was more than enough to put him to sleep. Which is why he laid awake for the next hour with worry on his mind…

Flurry knew it was coming. She could feel Pound’s tool throbbing within her core, begging for release. She knew, also, that she could become with foal if he did. Those considerations were wiped out as he changed pace, gliding in and out of her with maddening slow ease, still suckling on her breasts. Her breath hitched as another wave of ecstasy crashed over her; she realized this was most she had climaxed, considering that she had her mother to blame for her discovery of masturbation.

Pound, meanwhile, was nearing his limit. He could feel the pressure in his loins building to a crescendo. In a less time than he would care to imagine he would erupt. The change of pace was needed to keep from busting his nut too soon. Flurry was in another world as far as he could tell, but he didn’t want to lose it too early. He wanted to proffer Flurry the choice of where he would let loose. He didn’t think she wanted to be with foal so young. Then again, she wasn’t exhibiting a lot of foresight or caution tonight, but still he wanted to not be a total jerk.

While he considered these things, Flurry was off in a whole other galaxy it seemed. She was flying through time and relative dimensions in space, her passage a playground in delicious sensations. Her body craved this rhythm, utterly desired it with a longing wholly forgeign to Flurry. She couldn’t imagine not being in the throes of ecstasy no more than could imagine no breathing. While her body convulsed and her mind delved into the deepest mysteries of the Universe, her soul ran a parallel course towards an unseen destination.It neither knew nor cared about where it was going; it was enjoying the journey there. Rational thought? Didn’t care. Concerns for the future? What in tartarus were those? As long as the ride was enjoyable, what did it matter?

Pound was thrusting so slowly now, trying to prolong his release. It was doing no good; a boilerplate rise in pressure was searing his testicles, broiling his loins, pumping intoxicating hormones into his brain that made release the sanest and most pleasurable experience he could have. His mind was reluctant to listen, even as the bliss of the act itself was shearing at the walls of reason. No measure, no technique, no force of will would prevent release from coming and Pound dismayed at the fact. Despite his flagging body, he wanted to keep going forever, on the sodden sheets saturated with their combine ordures and sweat.

“Flurry,” he gasped, his end in sight, “I can’t- I don’t think- I’m gonna cum!”

Flurry growled, on the cusp of another orgasm, and she moaned back, “Yes! Yes, Pound, do it! Cum! Cum inside me!”

Pound shook his head, hoping he had misheard, “Wait, you want me to- what?”

“Do it, Pound,” Flurry hissed, “mark me, make me yours! Fill me with your love!”

“Ah, fuck!” Pound roared, “you almost sound like one of Chrysalis’ changelings…”

“You did not just-!” Flurry screamed, but all other protest abruptly ended when she felt Pound throb within her, then a jet of liquid heat began to course deep inside.

“Flurry!” Pound yelled, “Flurry! I love you!”

“OHMYFAUST, POUND!” Flurry howled.

Shining Armor hadn’t really been asleep. He drifted between a state of dreaming slumber and a sluggish confusion. He couldn’t quite successfully keep himself asleep, something was nagging at his mind. He couldn’t quite toss and turn in his sleep, what with two mares hemming him in left and right. Still, he was in urgent papa bear mode and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why.

Then, with a sharp gasp, he shot up ramrod straight. His brain was alert, feverish, and his dad alarm was ringing loud and clear.

“The condom broke…” he said, apropos to nothing, “I think I’m going to be a grandfather…”

Cadence rose up, clutching her husband’s arm, and asked, “Shiney? What’s wrong?”

“The condom broke,” he repeated, “Flurry is a mare now.”

“Shiney,” AJ groaned, slowly sitting up, “what in the name Faust, Celestia, and Luna are ya on about now?”

“The condom broke,” Shining decried, “We’re going to be grandparents…”

“Shiney,” Cadence, “what are you talking about? Is Flurry okay?”

“I don’t know,” Shining answered, “but I think she’s going to be a mother soon.”

“Shiney,” AJ moaned, “Ah know you’re her father and yer concerned about how she’s doing, but I’m pretty sure she’s in good hooves. Pound is a good colt, he’s the most responsible pony ya can ask fer. If’n he and Flurry are getting to know each other in a family way, then ya cain’t ask for a stallion more reliable.”

“Are you sure, Jackie?” Shining asked, “you’ve known him longer than I have.”

“Sure as shoein’,” AJ replied, “He’s a rock, a business stallion, and he loves Flurry with all his heart. If’n you’re concerned about him being a good stallion for yer daughter, then don’t. Now can we all get back to sleep, now? Ah don’t know about ya’ll, but I got a pair of foals that are onery as all get out and Ah need all the sleep Ah can get.”

“Okay,” Shining said, “I just hope that I don’t forget about this tomorrow… here’s hoping Flurry won’t regret all this in the morning.”

Shining, Cadence, and AJ lay back down. Almost instantly, Cady and Jackie went to sleep, a soft snore coming from Cadence, while AJ hummed more softly. Shining stayed awake for another ten minutes, maybe fifteen, before the Sandmare found him and fell deep into a dreamless sleep.

Flurry and pound lay in his bed, panting heavily. Flurry was able to feel Pound inside her, still twitching and throbbing, his essence flooding her passage as well as her womb. His emissions were starting to subside, but Flurry didn’t think she could take much more of that tonight. Given how easily and quickly her estrus struck, and worse, how divine the sex had been, she was certain she would need a day, maybe two, just to recover. Pound might need a few more than that.

“Oh, Faust…” she moaned, “That. Was. Amazing.”

“Uh, Flurry,” Pound started, “I think- we may have a problem…”

“How can there be any problems?” Flurry asked, “You were wonderful.”

“Well, you see,” Pound said, “the, uh- the condom broke.”

“Condom?” Flurry asked, “What condom?”

“The condom I put on when I started working on your teats?” Pound said, “I- I wasn’t certain if you wanted to be a mother- or if I wanted to be a father, so…”

Flurry giggles, giving pause to Pound’s worry.

“You silly colt,” she murmured, “it takes most mares several, let’s say, sowings, in order to be with foal. This was our first time, together. I doubt even while I’m still in estrus that I could pregnant right this instant. Unless you happen to have super potent, ultra motile sperm or something. Given how much is leaking out of me, I doubt you have a volume problem.”

“Oh, okay,” Pound said, though his tone sounded less than relieved, “I really should have asked you first, though. I know my mom told me how a filly gets when she’s in estrus, and that sometimes, sometimes, it only takes one plowing to get her knocked up. I really don;t want to incur the wrath of your father-”

“Eh, my dad’s a push over, really,” Flurry stated, “now Aunt Twilight, she might give you a hassle. But I’m telling you, it’s not a problem. Most mares-”

“Aren’t naturally born alicorns,” Pound said, “your mom, Twilight, they were ascended. Faust only knows if Princesses Celestia and Luna were born as they are or became that way after a while. And you, Flurry, are the only recorded born alicorn in all of Equestria, neigh, all of the world! That makes you, well, not most mares.”

“Okay, I’ll grant you that,” Flurry admitted, “but I still think it will take a few more tires before I have a bun in the oven.”

Pound brought a stare down upon Flurry, and asked, “Did you just use a baking pun on me? Me? The son of a baker? Who was raised in a bakery? Whose adopted aunt is a baker/confectionaire par excellence?”

“I might have…” Flurry murmured.

“Filly, I love you,” Pound said, then kissed her, long and deep before letting up, then added, “but you need to work on your pun game. Aunt Pinkie would run you so deep under the table, you’ll be in Chineigh before long.”

Laughing, Flurry said, “I’ll get right on that.”

After a pause, Pound stated the obvious, “We should probably get some sleep.”

“Okay,” Flurry agreed, “cuddles?”

“But of course,” Pound said. After settling themselves into a suitable spooning positions, both ponies fell right to sleep.

Three Months Later

Lord Alfalfa was turned away again, this time by the combined efforts of Princess Cadence and Lady Applejack, who was just starting to nurse her twin Earth pony fillies. Radiant and Rusty were over the moon with their twin baby sisters, which was way the pair were watching the twins while Mama Jackie was out and about on Royal Business. (And giving Lord Alfalfa THE BUSINESS. He didn’t take to well about getting a scornful lecture, especially from an Earth pony.)

Of course, the reason why Alfalfa was turned away was because he was, infallibly, still seeking Princess Flurry Hearts hand in marriage. Which was going to be a trifle difficult with some of the goings on as of late. Nearly six weeks ago, Pound Cake came to dinner with Flurry and her family, dropped down to one knee and accepted Flurry’s proposal. (He had to keep the engagement ring she gave him hidden, to keep the Imperial Press from having a field day. The Canterlot Press would also be in for a treat to learn of the Flurry Hearts pending arrangement with a Pegasus from Ponyville, but that’s another story altogether.)

There was one other issue that had prevented Lord Alfalfa from seeing Flurry Heart: she was sick as a dog. This morning, she had barely made it to her personal bathroom to vomit up what dinner she had the night before. And this just after she woke up. She had been vomiting every morning for nearly a week straight, but only Applejack was in the know about that. Today, though, her mother had dropped into her room for a quick chat only to have to commence said talk through the bathroom door.

Afterwards, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza took her oldest daughter to the Imperial Hospital, to see The Imperial Family’s Physician. Dr. Ivory Crown was a spry old sort; even after one thousand years of extra dimensional banishment did the smile and folksy mannerisms of the good doctor did nor fade. He was pleased to see Flurry once again, his self-proclaimed “most interesting patient.” While he had a nurse wheel Flurry to an examination room, he spoke with The Princess and got some basic information out of her. After scribbling all that down. Dr. Crown got to the job of seeking out what ailed the younger princess.

Flurry was out through a number of tests, was grilled and even cross examined by Dr. Crown and an OB/GYN nurse by the name of Emerging Crown (a distant relative to the doctor, she was assured.) Eventually, they got to asking her if she had any recent sexual activity. Flurry answered that yes she had. The Nurse Crown asked if she had an estrus cycle this year. And that was also answered in the positive, and the princess followed that up with the revelation that she had been physically intimate with her colt friend the same day her estrus struck.

Nurse Crown then ordered up a pregnancy kit. Flurry, who had been worrying she was in the first stage of some croup or another (Rusty Coat was a damnedable germ magnet,) but now she was wondering if maybe all she assured Pound Cake wasn’t entirely true. Eventually, her parents, Princess Cadence, Prince-Consort Shining Armor, and Lady Applejack, were assembled in the waiting room, along with her herd siblings, awaiting the answer to Flurry’s current illness. Only Applejack seemed anxious about the diagnosis, sensing she had known exactly what made Flurry so sick all of acutely.

It took a while, but eventually, Pound Cake arrived at the Imperial Hospital as well. He was flustered, because he may have had an idea about what Flurry had contracted (and his own part in that.) He steered clear of her father, which the exact thing he should have not done, even given that he was his daughter’s fiancé. Shining Armor gave Pound a hard stare that bordered on accusatory, only to have both stallions attention drawn back to a resigned Flurry and a beaming Dr. Crown.

“Well, Your Grace, do you wanna tell ‘em, or should I?” Dr. Crown asked.

“Go ahead,” Flurry murmured, “I don’t really trust myself to speak right now.”

“Honey,” Cadence began, “are you okay? Is something wrong?”

Flurry shook her head, then turned to the doctor. The doctor then bowed to Princess Cadence before saying, “Your Majesty, your daughter is perfectly healthy. IN fact, she is the very picture of health! Although, given her current condition, she will need to take some supplemental vitamins to keep up her strength.”

“I’m sorry doctor,” Shining Armor said, “what exactly is Flurry’s ‘condition?’”

“Well, there’s no better to say this so,” the doctor began before giving Shining Armor a Hayvanah cigar, “congratulations! You’re about to be a grandfather.”

“G-grandfather?!” Cadence asked.

Dr. Crown nodded, “Precisely, Your Highness. Or should I say, Grandmother?”

Flurry smiled sheepishly to her parents, and Applejack, before saying halfheartedly, “Surprise!”

Promptly, both Shining Armor and Princess Cadence fainted. Hospital staff rushed to collect the Royal Couple from the floor. Apparently, this was a common occurrence in these halls. Dr. Crown directed his staff to deposit The Crown Princess and her Consort to a waiting exam room, to check for other injuries. Then the doctor turned to the only other male in the room; Pound Cake began to sweat bullets, but stood up and joined Flurry Heart. The doctor handed Pound another Hayvanah cigar.

“Am I to presume you’re the father?” Dr. Crown asked.

Taking the proffered cigar, Pound said, “I am,” then to Flurry, “how fast do you think we can get that wedding ceremony started before your father recovers consciousness?”