Epilogue: Eleven Months and Nine Days Later

“Have you decided on a name for her?” the ritualist asked, smiling down at the newborn.

“We decided to name her after her parents. Poppyseed, from me, and Muffin, in honor of her sire.” Babs said, as the filly in question ignored them entirely. Her only interest was the teat she was taking her very first meal from. It wasn’t unusual for a Ritual Foal to have a name that alluded to their sire, without being exactly the same.

“My mom is super-excited about having another little muffin to dote on.” Dinky added, before licking the baby’s head, to tame a lock of orangish-red mane that had escaped the rest. The filly wriggled and fussed a little, but didn’t let go of the teat.

The pale violet mare had asked Babs out almost a year ago, just weeks after The Ritual. She hadn’t known Babs was pregnant at the time, but she wasn’t at all bothered when she found out. And by now, she was even looking forward to being a mom. While she may not know who the sire was, the simple fact that Babs used the term sire meant he wouldn’t be taking an active part in the filly’s upbringing.

The earth pony’s refusal to talk about him had worried Dinky a little at first, until she’d stopped and done the math. She’d realized that her marefriend had ‘been fertilized,’ as she jokingly termed it, right around Winter Wrap-Up. Like maybe the day before, when every earth pony in town was out of town, almost from first light. Which led her to suspect it had to do with some earth pony ritual.

While nopony would confirm for her that they’d held a ritual that day—since she hadn’t been invited, she didn’t even bother to ask—the fact that several mares turned up pregnant every year around that time, including at least one who’d only gone through her first heat the previous spring, indicated as much.

Once Dinky had figured that out, she’d been able to put any thoughts of untoward causes to rest, which made her feel much better.

“In that case,” Ritualist Pinkamena started, “Poppyseed Muffin, Daughter of Babs Seed, and Daughter of the Tribe of Earth, I, Ritualist Pinkamena, welcome you to the world. It’s a great big, wonderful place, and I hope you’re going to be here for a very long time.” With that, the pink mare gave the tan foal a soft kiss on the forehead, which earned her a curious look from green eyes. As well as more wriggling and fussing.

“And now it’s my turn.” Mayor Mare said, moving up to the bed, as the ritualist moved back. She carefully unwrapped the baby’s swaddling just enough to free one hoof. She then pressed a piece of paper to it, before she wrapped the blanket back up and moved to the nearby tray, where she set the paper down. Picking up a pen in her mouth, she quickly added the foal’s name to the birth certificate. “And there.” she said, spitting out the pen. “Your name’s already on there, along with the sire’s, and I made sure to use the appropriate ink for his name, so don’t worry about that.” Enchanted ink, that would only reveal itself when exposed to the magic of one of the five ponies whose signatures were currently on the paper. The mother’s, the sire’s, the mayor’s, and the doctor who’d delivered her. And now the filly’s own.

This was so the filly could someday find out for herself who her sire was, if her mother didn’t tell her. Or in case somepony ever needed to know the medical and/or family history on her sire’s side, for whatever reason.

“You can go ahead and list me in the ‘Other Parents’ section.” Dinky said.

“Are you sure, Dinks?” Babs asked. While doing that wouldn’t allow Dinky to learn the name of Poppyseed’s sire, it would give her legal and financial responsibilities for the foal, for the rest of the trainee firemare’s life.

“Absolutely.” the unicorn confirmed, giving Babs a quick kiss. “Even if you and I don’t work out, after meeting this precious little seedling, I’m never letting her get away. Go ahead and add my name.” she repeated, turning to look at Mayor Mare.

“You’ll need to do that yourself. Legally, I’m only supposed to sign for somepony who’s physically incapable of signing for themselves, like the foal.” she said, pushing the tray towards the Dinky. A second later, the pen was wrapped in cyan magic and moving across the page.

Her job done, the mayor rolled up the birth certificate and left the room. Ritualist Pinkamena stayed a few minutes longer, talking with the new mother…or mothers, rather. Then she left, too. Passing through the waiting room, she saw the Apples. When she did, her hind hooves started stamping rapidly. After several seconds, they stopped as suddenly as they’d started, and one forehoof flung itself up, to point at Applebloom.

Everypony present had seen that move before, and knew what it meant, but the pink mare told them that Apple Bloom had been chosen as this year’s Ritual Participant anyway, before continuing on her way. She stopped at the front desk long enough to pick up her hat. She’d left it there when she arrived, so the bells on it didn’t wake any of the foals. After pulling up the sky-blue hood of her garment, she donned her six-colored cap and left the hospital, heading for the next town where her services would be needed.

Back in the room, the Apples were cycling through, taking turns cooing over the adorable newborn and congratulating Babs. And Dinky too, when they heard about her decision. After awhile though, both mother and foal fell asleep, so Nurse Redheart—who, like most mares at The Ritual, hadn’t gotten pregnant—moved her to the nursery. She settled her in the crib next to a gray and black-spotted filly who’d been born the day before. Octavia’s foal, with her rare painted coat, had clearly been sired by Pipsqueak. The cellist had obviously let the Trottingham native take a turn covering her before Mr. Rich.

Since Babs was asleep, the Apples and Dinky all moved to the viewing window and spent the next couple hours watching their newest family member sleep. At one point, the Cakes stopped by on some pretext, and all nine stayed until Poppyseed woke up, demanding to be fed again.

Author's Note

If you're curious, caparison. Every ritualist wears one of their own design and Ritualist Pinkamena’s—yes, Ritualist is treated as part of her name—is sky blue silk, with a yellow houndstooth pattern. And yellow tassels. And her hat, which every ritualist must also design for themselves, is a six-pointed jester’s hat, the colors of which correspond to the Elements of Harmony, even though they haven’t been used in this universe.

And yes, the very sight of it always gives Rarity a twitchy eye. Fortunately for the dressmaker’s sanity, she was a unicorn, so didn’t have to suffer the nightmare of that ensemble often. Only for townwide rituals, since a unicorn handled her tribe’s rituals.

On another note, I swear to Celestia, I only found the cover art after I had this fic half-written. In fact, when I originally came up with this story, it was supposed to be Pumpkin and her father. It was only when I sat down to start writing it, that I remembered she was a unicorn, and so wouldn’t be allowed at this ritual.

Fortunately, the change was easy enough to make. And then, even more fortunately, I found this pic, which was almost too perfect to believe. It also inspired me to write this chapter, which was written entirely around it.

Again, as mentioned in my first two entries in Dirty Little Secret's contest, any monetary rewards this might mange to win are unnecessary. I'm doing this just because I can, and am only interested in the bragging rights. The same applies to the New Years Babies contest. I have no way to receive the money, or interest in making one. If that disqualifies me, then so be it. Otherwise, give it to the next-place winner, whichever place that happens to be. Or maybe it could be donated to the charity of the judge’s choice.