Auntie Tia's Matchmaking Service

by Shaslan

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Flurry Heart, Romance, Luster Dawn, Cozy Glow, Lil' Cheese, Princess Celestia
Length: 69296

Princess Celestia has retired, but that doesn't mean her little ponies have stopped needing her. She puts her skills to good use in her new business, but her new clients are tough customers. Have Celestia's matchmaking abilities met their match?

Princess Celestia has retired. Her reign is over, and her stewardship of Equestria is at an end. But that doesn't mean that her little ponies have stopped needing her. Her time as supreme political puppet master has given her a unique set of skills; networking, guiding, mentoring, and of course a little bit of manipulation. So she opens up a new business: Auntie Tia's Matchmaking Service!

Ponies come from far and wide to tell Auntie Tia their romantic woes and ask for her help, and she never turns away a pony in need. But her new clients are among the toughest she has ever faced - have Celestia's matchmaking abilities met their match?

Print copy now available!

Published 2020-09-25 20:30:00 UTC
Last updated 2020-12-18 23:22:04 UTC

Chapter 1

The pale pink mare shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The settee was plush and comfortable, but no amount of cushions could help her feel at ease today. Months of pushing from her parents had culminated in her walking through that tall, thin blue door on a back street of Canterlot.

The pastel blue door was unmarked, and there was no shop sign hanging above it. To advertise a business such as this would be vulgar, apparently. It had been explained that everything was done through word of mouth, one family to another. It was all very…personalised.

Lustre Dawn rubbed her forehooves together, nervousness writ large upon her face. She wasn’t at all sure that she wanted a personalised service. She was used to the spotlight, well accustomed to it from her usual place at Princess Twilight Sparkle’s right hoof. But this was a different sort of spotlight, an altogether more intimate one. One that might be able to pick out every flaw she had, if she let it. Right now, Lustre Dawn would have given almost anything to be able to fade quietly into these lush purple cushions and the thick pink rugs carpeting the floor, and be able to sneak her way back to the door and the blessed relief of escape.

It would be easy enough, if she wanted to try it. She did know one or two invisibility spells — she had even spent a summer in her teens refining Clover the Clever’s famous Indivisibly Invisible Pony spell, improving it to the point where she could now cast and hold it for five hours rather than Clover’s promised two.

And her friends would be waiting for her. She knew exactly where she could find them: Carrot Bran, Yurik, Grayson and Leaftail were all waiting in their favourite coffee shop in Canterlot’s food quarter, ready for a debrief just as soon as Lustre Dawn was done with this meeting. She had felt a little guilty about dragging them all the way out here to Canterlot — poor Yurik had been forced to get the overnight express from Yakyakistan — but she felt no regret at playing the ‘friend in need’ card. She might be a wreck after this, depending on how it went, and she felt certain that she would need every scrap of support she could get.

Because really, she knew that this was no longer something she could put off. Every time she went home, her mothers were asking if she had booked her appointment yet, if she had given it any thought — and with every visit, the questions grew more and more pointed. This was something they wanted for her, and Lustre Dawn loved her family too much to be immune to their prolonged sighs and hints. She had finally admitted defeat, and here she was.

A gentle clop of hooves made her muzzle jerk up, and then finally, the second pastel blue door at the back of the waiting room swung open to reveal the pony she had come to see.

The graceful white-coated figure — taller than even Princess Twilight — dipped her head to come through the door without knocking her horn on the lintel. The ceiling in the room was unusually high for an Equestrian building— built to the ‘Celestian Standard Height’ as all buildings in Canterlot had been for centuries now — but even so, she almost touched it.

Princess Celestia, now retired, smiled a warm welcome at the little pink pony before her and settled herself behind a large mahogany desk. She extended a gracious hoof to gesture Lustre Dawn into a fat armchair set closer to the desk. Lustre hurried to obey the gesture that looked like it would be more at home inviting ambassadors to discuss affairs of state, rather than…whatever shambles this was about to become.

Princess Celestia smiled beatifically, the same smile that Lustre Dawn knew the finest artists of the Re-neigh-ssance had tried and failed to capture in its full glory centuries ago. The same smile that had controlled the fate of millions, that had held the sun in place in the sky.

Celestia remained silent, smiling gently as Lustre fidgeted anxiously on the chair. Her vast mane flowed like a river, almost filling the suddenly-smaller room. The silence swelled. Lustre Dawn began to feel claustrophobic.

“Hi, Princess,” she began weakly. “My mother — Starlight, I mean — she says hi.” Inwardly, she kicked herself. What a way to begin this conversation!

Princess Celestia inclined her head a little. “Yes, it has been too long since I saw both of your mothers in a personal capacity,” she said, her melodious voice rich and powerful. “Though I believe I saw Trixie perform when last she came to Canterlot.” Her voice had a depth and a timbre that Lustre had never really heard in another pony. She dimly remembered reading somewhere that full-size alicorn lungs were over four times as large as pony lungs. She had come across a fascinating Old Ponish document written by a theatre-going courtier in the days when opera was a young and fashionable art form and Princess Luna had been its most devoted patron. One evening with a small circle of friends, she had performed a brief aria, and the author of Lustre Dawn’s treatise had sworn he had never heard any mortal, no matter how well-trained, achieve the notes that the Princess had.

She offered another hesitant smile to Princess Celestia by way of answer.

“I understand that you must be nervous, Lustre Dawn,” the Princess said kindly. “This is no small event in a young pony’s life.”

Lustre Dawn nodded mutely.

“Come now,” the Princess smiled. “I am here to help you, not to harm. Tell me — do you want to do this? In yourself, I mean?”

Lustre hesitated. “Well, Princess Celestia, I—”

She stopped short, biting off her words as the Princess raised a commanding hoof.

“Let us stop right there,” the Princess said, not cruelly, but with a hint more steel in her tone. “I am a Princess by right and by title still, but it is my faithful student Twilight Sparkle who rules Equestria now. She is the true princess.” Her tone lightened again and she crossed her front hooves on the desk. “Besides which, just as Twilight was my own student for many years, you are hers — which makes us closer to family than to formality, in my eyes. I insist that you call me Auntie.”

“A-Auntie?” Lustre Dawn fumbled the words. It felt very strange to be addressing an immortal goddess that one barely knew as ‘auntie’.

Celestia spread her hooves once more. “Even if we were not linked through Twilight Sparkle, I tell all my clients to call me Auntie Tia. This business that I am in…its a family business, and I find it so important to foster a family feeling throughout the process.”

Lustre Dawn chewed at her lip and nodded again. “I suppose so…”

“But because you are Twilight’s chosen student — and her stepdaughter besides — this case takes on a special relevance to me.” A wide, motherly smile spread across Celestia’s face. “I make sure all my clients are happy with what I can offer them, but with you, Lustre Dawn, I will take special care.”

Heat flooded Lustre’s face, and she ducked her head, not wanting to meet Celestia’s gaze. Stars, this was all so humiliating. Why couldn’t she just have met somepony in a normal way? Why did her mothers have to insist on this — this bizarre farce?

“Lustre Dawn,” Celestia chided, her tone still gentle. “There is no need to feel awkward with me. I appreciate that this must be difficult for a young pony like yourself, to be put in this position. But remember, everypony involved — myself, Starlight, Trixie, and even Sunburst and Twilight Sparkle — we all want what is best for you. We all want you to be happy. That’s why your parents came to me. My record—” she gestured to a wall behind her, covered in photos of a beaming Celestia standing beside different groups of joyous ponies, “—is unbroken. Even if it takes me a little time, I find somepony for everyone.”

Lustre Dawn rubbed hard at one ear with her hoof. “But a matchmaker—! It’s so old-fashioned! It’s so…so crude!”

Celestia smiled radiantly, seemingly thrilled to have broken through Lustre’s reserve at last. “It is not crude, Lustre, my dear. What is frequently forgotten by young ponies is that marriage, partners, they are not just about the couple. The couple represent a joining of two families, two families that must love and accept each other just as the young people must.” She paused, and lit her horn to levitate a pair of glass tumblers and a vase of crystal clear water over from a side table. She poured water into both glasses, and then floated one of them over to Lustre Dawn.

Lustre accepted it into her own magic and took a sip, hoping the cool water would quell the burning in her cheeks. She couldn’t believe she had been reduced to this. If she had just done what Carrot Bran and Grayson had and paired up straight out of college, she wouldn’t be in this mess. Her parents wouldn’t have had a leg to stand on if she had already found herself a mate. But because she had done as they asked, because she had been a good student, because she had devoted the first twenty years of her life to magic and the next eight to friendship — now she was here, sitting in the office of an ex-princess’ matchmaking service. She wanted to crawl into bed, pull the covers over her head and just die from embarrassment.

“You must remember, too,” Celestia was continuing, “That you have ultimate control in this process. I have made many matches over the centuries, that have created many families who still live today. I am without match — if you’ll excuse the pun — in this art form. And now I am retired, I find nothing amuses me so much as doing it for a living.”

That got Lustre’s attention. Her eyes flashed and she met Celestia’s gaze with a force that made the older mare raise her eyebrows in mild surprise.

“Amuse yourself?” Lustre Dawn said sharply. “Is this a game to you, Princ—Auntie? My life isn’t a toy to be played with.”

“No, no, of course not,” Celestia soothed her. “I mean only that to do this — to bring my little ponies joy in a more immediate and intimate way than I ever had time to do when I sat the throne — fills my days with happiness of my own. It gives my time meaning in a way nothing else could.” She drew herself up, and the tip of her lengthy horn nearly brushed the ceiling. A few scrapes on the wooden beams showed where it had happened before.

“I can honestly say,” Celestia went on, her golden-shod hoof tapping against the desk to punctuate her words, “That Auntie Tia’s Matchmaking Service brings me every bit as much pleasure — and I approach it with as much dedication! — as ever ruling my court did.” She paused and took a breath, and resettled herself in her chair. “That’s why my clients come to me. That’s why your own family came to me. They know that no one will treat the lives and futures of Equestria’s youth, and the futures of their families, with as much care as I will.”

Lustre Dawn nodded slowly, feeling a little mollified. The Princess was certainly sincere. She meant what she was saying, and she clearly believed in what she did. And both Starlight and Trixie did too. They had been very firm with Lustre that they expected her to at least attend this initial meeting with Celestia, and preferably to follow her guidance afterwards as well.

“Friendship is hugely important,” Starlight Glimmer had said firmly, as the family sat over tea and Ponopoly one evening, in the drawing room at the Castle of Friendship. “But having a special somepony is vital too. Somepony you can rely on, somepony you can talk to, wake up next to, and maybe even raise a family with.” She had paused to smile at Trixie, who rubbed her hoof supportively.

“We just want you to be happy, Lustre,” Trixie had added. “We were a love match, but we still went to take Princess Celestia’s advice before we finalised things. You haven’t met anyone under your own steam yet, and time is passing. We want you to have a secure future, somepony to love. Ponies who are lonely…well, they can turn down darker paths, even if they don’t intend to.”

Lustre Dawn scowled a little at the memory. It was bothersome, the way that ponies assumed you had to have a life like theirs in order to be as happy as they were. And okay, they had been right about friendship — she loved each and every one of her friends — but there was no guarantee they were right about romance. She didn’t need a special somepony to be happy. She had more than enough happiness already.

“So the purpose of this initial meeting is just for me to get to know you,” Princess Celestia’s gentle tones recalled Lustre to the present. “I want to learn your hobbies, your likes and dislikes, what you want your life to be long-term. What sort of thing you think you would prefer in a partner.”

Lustre Dawn slumped in her chair a little. “Those are all…very big questions, Auntie.”

“Big questions are only big until we know the answers,” Celestia smiled. “And we can find the answers to them together, Lustre, I promise you. Let’s start with something simple. Why are you here today?”

Lustre Dawn sighed. “Because my mothers asked me to come.”

“And why do you think they wanted you to come here?”

“They say they want me to be happy,” Lustre answered. “But honestly, I think they’re just a little hungry for grandfoals.”

Celestia laughed, a musical cascade of notes tumbling over one another like a little waterfall. “I see you have inherited Trixie’s sense of humour!”

Lustre allowed herself a small smile.

Celestia steepled her hooves against one another, her elbows resting on the desk. “Your family seems like a good place to begin, then. I know how important family can be. My own sister is my rock; I don’t know where I would be without her. And just like you must be, I’d be afraid to disappoint my sister. But she wants the best for me, and sometimes that means that she can see clearer than even I can about what the best choices for me are. I think its much the same in your family.”

Lustre nodded once.

“Both of your mothers, as well as Twilight Sparkle and Sunburst, are on board with the decision we are taking here today,” Celestia went on. “They’ll join us for our next discussion, if you decide you are ready to proceed. But why don’t we talk a little about them now? That might help me get to know you a little better.”

Lustre Dawn shifted again in her chair. “Um — I’m not sure where to begin, Princess.”

“Auntie Tia,” Celestia corrected her at once. “Lustre Dawn, all I’m asking is that you talk to me openly, and give this a chance, for your family’s sake. We’ll start off nice and simple. Why don’t you tell me about how your mothers met?”

Lustre Dawn sighed and pushed her mane back out of her face. It didn’t seem like she had any alternative. “Alright. Um. Well, they met in Ponyville — at the spa.”

Celestia brightened. “Ah yes — I’ve been there many times. Their masseuse is wonderful.”

“They got to talking over their…shared pasts,” Lustre went on, her face colouring a little. She was never quite sure how to introduce the topic of her mothers’ early careers when talking to new ponies. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of them, because she definitely wasn’t — one of Princess Twilight’s very first lessons was never to judge ponies for their past mistakes — but there was no getting around the fact it was a difficult subject.

But Princess Celestia knew about her family’s past — she had been there personally for much of it. “Princess Twilight didn’t approve, at first. But my parents were sure about each other from the very start. They were best friends from the first day they met.”

Celestia chuckled. “Yes, I remember the Moonshot Manticore Mouth Dive very well. I would struggle to forget a trick like that.”

Lustre nodded, her smile widening and becoming more genuine. “Yes, exactly! My parents trusted each other to put their lives in each others hooves. On the very first day they met.” She sighed. “Can you imagine trusting anypony that much?”

Celestia smiled. “Love truly is a wonderful thing. And when two ponies recognise it in each other like your mothers did, it can work miracles.” She paused and took a sip from her glass of water, her horn glowing. “Lustre Dawn, is there anypony you trust that much, that you could put your life into their keeping?” She looked up from her water as she spoke, directly into Lustre’s eyes, and Lustre jumped a little at the sudden eye contact.

“I— I’m not sure. I trust my friends of course, I care about all of them so much.” She blushed a little as she said it, but Celestia only smiled encouragingly. “But I’m not sure if I would have been able to do it on that very first day in Ponyville, when I first met them. It took me a whole term of attending Mum’s school to properly get to know them. Besides, Yurik, Grayson and Carrot Bran aren’t magical in the least, and the only magic Leaftail can do is transform into a nirik. I don’t think any of them could help me perform the Moonshot Manticore Mouth Dive, even if I wanted to do it.”

Celestia shook her head. “I don’t mean replicating your mothers’ exact meeting; every couple’s story is unique. No, what I mean is, have you ever met anypony — a special somepony — that you could imagine yourself feeling the same way about that your mothers feel about each other?”

Lustre Dawn’s heart sank within her. “No…no, Princess. I don’t think I have.” She suddenly felt a little sick. All this time, while her mothers had hinted that perhaps she was missing out on something, that perhaps she wasn’t living life to its fullest, she had shrugged it off. She had thought that her life was full and meaningful — certainly it felt as though it was. With her studies, her time with her family and with Princess Twilight Sparkle, and above all with her friends, she had almost no time to herself. But she never felt like she needed it. She loved her busy life, especially how much fuller it felt since she had discovered the magic of friendship. But from what the Princess was saying, it seemed like there was perhaps some vital experience she had been missing out on.

Carrot Bran and Grayson were married, of course — they had been boyfriends for years, and had tied the knot just last year. Their wedding had been beautiful. Lustre Dawn and Leaftail had been the mares of honour, and Yurik had been the officiant. Lustre was not ashamed to admit she had wept as she walked behind Carrot Bran and Grayson. Her mothers had attended, as Carrot Bran and Grayson’s ex-teachers, and it was only really after that their gentle prodding about Lustre’s own love life had taken on a sharper edge. That process had culminated in Lustre’s final reluctant consent to meet with ‘Auntie Tia’.

“Don’t worry, Lustre Dawn.” Celestia’s gentle tone cut into her thoughts once more. “Trixie and Starlight Glimmer made what I would call a ‘love match’. They found one another independently, and their feelings grew slowly into something more than friendship. All I am offering to do for you is provide a little help in that initial ‘finding’ stage. I help ponies connect the dots, that’s all.”

Lustre Dawn sighed and rubbed her hoof against her temple. “You make it sound so personal — but earlier, you said that this style of marriage was all about two families coming together, and not about the individual ponies at all.”

“It’s a delicate mixture of the two,” Celestia answered. She spread her hooves as she spoke. “You have the final choice of your life partner, of course, but your family should be consulted too.”

“But I want to marry somepony I like, not somepony my family likes,” Lustre insisted.

“And that’s what I intend,” Celestia replied smoothly. “But it is possible to have both. But like it or not, Lustre Dawn, you are the child of several very important ponies. Starlight Glimmer and Trixie Lulamoon run the Equestrian School of Friendship, our foremost method of outreach with the youth of other nations. Your birth father Sunburst is a close personal friend and advisor to the royal family of the Crystal Empire. You are stepdaughter and personal student to the Princess of Equestria. Choosing a mate not only that you can love, but who will also be suitable to mesh with your family, is a matter of vital importance to Equestria itself.”

Lustre Dawn sighed again. “That definitely doesn’t sound like what my parents did. Princess Twilight advised against them even being friends.”

“Your parents were a love match, as I said,” Princess Celestia rejoined. “But when they realised they were growing closer, they did the right thing. They came to Twilight and I, and they asked our opinions. We were able to talk with them, and with their families too, and ensure that everypony was on the same page.”

She paused, and took another sip of water. “I know that this seems rather…traditional and old-fashioned, Lustre Dawn. Honestly, I know. But the reason I have been employing this method for so long is because it works. It genuinely gets results. The families I work with, the couples I match — they very rarely have problems like strife with the in-laws, clashes over the way foals should be raised. The careful process I take my clients through helps to eliminate that risk. And even after the match is made, I continue to help. Your parents came to me before you were conceived, you know.”

Lustre Dawn sat up straighter. “What?”

Celestia grinned, an uncharacteristically playful expression. She was clearly pleased to be able to share knowledge that Lustre Dawn had not previously possessed. “Yes, it’s true. Your mothers wanted a foal, and they needed a sperm donor. I put out some feelers, delicately asked around, and eventually I was able to match up Trixie and Starlight Glimmer with Sunburst and Twilight Sparkle. Their parents were also consulted — if I remember correctly, your grandfather Firelight and Sunburst’s mother were particularly thrilled at the prospect of sharing a grandchild. Every party involved was enthusiastic, and so we went ahead. And so you were born. And your large and — hmm, unconventional — family has always functioned in an exemplary way, hasn’t it?”

Still stunned, Lustre could only nod. Sunburst and Twilight had always been a part of her life. She had spent one weekend a month with them during her early childhood, and had thought of them as a particularly loving uncle and aunt. Then, when she turned ten and got her cutie mark, she had showed enough magical promise that her mothers thought it best to send her to Twilight’s Magical School for Gifted Unicorns. After that she had grown much closer to Sunburst and Twilight, and had viewed them almost as a second set of parents.

Celestia nodded back, that same gentle smile still on her muzzle. “There was no jealousy, no anger or acrimonious dispute. Everypony knew exactly what their role was, and everypony wanted to be involved. It was just a big, loving family, all waiting to welcome one little foal.”

It was just so strange, to know that she had been planned and debated, like a party or a battle. Lustre Dawn couldn’t quite get her head around it. Her parents and grandparents had all sat in one room with Princess Celestia presiding, and had agreed on her creation. It was almost as though Celestia had made her — certainly she had orchestrated her making. And from the sound of it, the Princess had also played a large part in the manner in which she had been raised.

“Does everypony get married like this?” she blurted.

Celestia raised a hoof to her mouth to hide her small, ladylike giggle. “No, no, Lustre Dawn — it isn’t anything sinister; there is no great conspiracy. But many of my subjects do choose to take the route of going to a matchmaker. They recognise the wisdom of involving somepony older and wiser than themselves, to help advise in what is, after all, the biggest decision of their lives. Some of my oldest client families have been coming to me for generations.”

Lustre ran a hoof through her mane again. “Huh.”

Celestia placed her hooves flat on the desktop, either side of her glass, and leaned forward. Her mane rippled with the movement, flowing out behind and to her left. “So. Tell me — what do you think? Are you willing to give this a shot, to let me help you and your family find somepony who you can learn to love — somepony who you can build a life with?”

Lustre Dawn bit down on a groan. She wasn’t sure she wanted to meet somepony, or have her freedom curtailed. And she definitely wasn’t sure she wanted to get married. Moreover, this matchmaking thing was inherently weird, and nothing could dissuade her of that feeling. But Celestia’s arguments, much as she hated to admit it, were much more rational and persuasive than she had anticipated. And her parents were desperate for her to try this. They seemed convinced that her life was missing something that they had in abundance. And she was curious now. Before she had believed in friendship, she had been certain that she wasn’t missing out on anything. But Princess Twilight had shown her the error of that. So maybe — just maybe — Princess Celestia could show her a similar lesson here. Maybe she would be willing to see what Auntie Tia’s patented matchmaking service had to offer.

Slowly, reluctantly, she dipped her head in assent. “Okay. I’ll give it a try.”

Celestia reared her head back and clopped her hooves together in glee. The motions sent little ripples eddying down her mane and made it float and flow even faster. “Wonderful! I’ll have Raven Inkwell set up a meeting with the whole family.”

Lustre Dawn huffed air out through her nostrils, sending her own forelock bouncing in an unintentional imitation of Celestia’s. The prospect of all four of her parents and all eight of her grandparents coming together in this little room to discuss her love life was…not an appealing one.

Chapter 2

The pale blue door swung shut behind the young unicorn Celestia liked to think of as her granddaughter — or grand-student, at least. She felt a gentle smile cross her muzzle as the last of Lustre Dawn’s orange tail-hairs passed the window and left finally left her field of vision.

She had never spent much time with Twilight’s beloved student — she thought maybe Twilight wanted to keep her to herself, to prove to her own mentor that she, too, could train and raise a powerful magic user and a good pony of her own. But Celestia had always watched Lustre Dawn’s development with keen interest and no little affection.

She had taken a sort of distant pride in every achievement of Lustre’s, both magical and personal, that had been reported to her. Perhaps, if she was being honest, it was more pride in Twilight than in Lustre. She was so very proud of the way her little student had grown into her immense magical power, matching it now with emotional intelligence, kindness and friendship. Twilight was truly the finest successor she could have chosen. Ponies across Equestria had grown to love her as much as they had the other princesses. Celestia felt truly able to relax and enjoy her retirement, knowing that her beloved kingdom rested securely in such capable hooves.

Her matchmaking business was booming and she had more time to socialise than ever before. Luna was able to devote herself fully to her twin passions of watching over the dreams of ponies, and forming beautiful constellations in the more obscure portions of the sky, ready to be discovered by keen-eyed astronomers yet to be born.

And most importantly of all, the Princesses had more time to spend with each other than they had in millennia.They had spent the first ten years of Twilight’s reign travelling Equestria, with the time they were not on the road spent rebuilding the Castle of the Two Sisters. Celestia could not have expected just how healing and cathartic it would be to repair the wounds their battle had caused to the land and their old home. And now that it was complete, Celestia spent half of every week in Canterlot with her friends there, while Luna returned to her ancient home with her batponies in Shady Hollow. Every weekend, they reunited at their palace in the Everfree, and enjoyed the weekends together. They would stroll under the trees, play chess, and occasionally wrestle with manticores when they wanted a little thrill. Celestia made cakes and pancakes every day for them to feast on together. And then, refreshed and rejuvenated by the time spent together, they would venture forth once more to spend time on their own unique interests. At long last, they had found the balance that made them both happy.

Twilight wasn’t immortal, of course. Like Cadence, she would live much longer than a purely mortal pony, but no more than perhaps three or four times what her natural lifespan would have been. But even that length of time — or whatever portion of that Twilight chose to serve Equestria for — was a unique blessing for Celestia and Luna, and she intended that they make the most of every day of it.

Yes, Celestia was immensely proud of Twilight, both the student she had been and the regal mare she had become. And her feelings towards Lustre were an extension of that. She truly wanted the best for the little pink pony, and she felt sure that with a little work and some good potential matches, she would be able to get it for her.

The door behind her creaked open and Raven Inkwell padded in from the back office. Raven was getting on in years now — nearly seventy, her ink-black mane now more of a faded grey, but still scraped back into the same harsh bun. Her stern visage hid a heart that Celestia knew full well was warmer than most ponies would suspect.

Celestia had suggested when she retired that Raven should also consider it, but Raven had stiffly refused. “I have been your assistant for forty years, and I shall remain your assistant for another forty,” she had said sternly, and Celestia had possessed the sense not to raise the subject again. But she made sure nowadays that Raven’s office was well-stocked with cosy chairs, warm blankets, and a constantly lit fireplace. And these days she fetched Raven a cup of tea more often than she allowed Raven to fetch her one.

“Did it go well?” Raven Inkwell asked, her eyes moving rapidly over the clipboard she held in one forehoof.

“Yes, thank you, Raven,” Celestia responded. “Lustre Dawn seemed sceptical, but willing to give it a try.”

“A lot of ponies start out that way,” Raven responded drily. She had thrown herself into assisting Auntie Tia the matchmaker with every bit as much gusto as she had assisted Princess Celestia, ruling Diarch and Solar Empress of Equestria. And she was just as efficient.

“Who is my next appointment with?” Celestia asked, turning her mind back to business.

“I believe Rarity and her daughter are scheduled to come in for a meeting with you this afternoon,” Raven Inkwell replied. She glanced up at Celestia. “You recall Princess Twilight Sparkle’s friend Rarity.”

Celestia raised her eyebrows in mock affront. “Raven Inkwell! Why do you assume I have no memory of my own? Of course I remember the Element of Generosity.” Raven Inkwell stifled a smile behind her clipboard, but Celestia’s own face quickly became more somber. “But I remember her daughter even more clearly.”

Raven’s brow wrinkled in sympathy, and she reached out a hoof to rest it on Celestia’s shoulder. “Remember, Princess. You always say that you can find a match for anypony — it just takes some a little longer than others. I think even this one will not be beyond your capabilities.”

Celestia rested her own hoof atop Raven’s only briefly before the elderly mare withdrew it. Even now, she still liked to keep their professional barriers firmly in place. In hundreds of thousands of years of life, Celestia wasn’t sure she had ever encountered anypony as dedicated to their job as Raven Inkwell was.

“Thank you, Raven.” She said. “I think I’ll wait here until they arrive and do a little background reading. Could you fetch me the file we prepared last week?”

Raven Inkwell nodded. “Yes, of course, Princess.”

Celestia immersed herself in her reading for an hour or so. Rarity’s daughter had a troubled past; that much was undeniable. Her abusive birth parents, her many psychiatric conditions, the…unfortunate incident when she was twelve and its messy aftermath. All culminating in Rarity’s adoption of her, and a prolonged period of mental health treatments. Under Rarity’s care and with the support of her generous spirit, the filly had healed and thrived, and had gone on to a brilliant career at Canterlot’s best law school, and was now a hugely successful barrister. But Rarity reported that something was missing in her daughter’s life, and while she showed no interest in making friends beyond a superficial level, she had shown some interest in finding a romantic relationship.

Unlike her meeting with Lustre Dawn, Celestia knew that this one would require no cajoling or explaining of the concept of arranged marriages. Rarity had done all of that groundwork already; Rarity’s daughter was coming into this with her eyes wide open, ready to engage with the prospect of meeting somepony special.

A jingle at the door from the little bell caught Celestia’s attention, and she looked up, taking care to school her face into the same welcoming smile she had employed for centuries to greet visiting dignitaries.

Rarity entered first, her legendary beauty now changed by age, but still undeniably present. Her frame was a little more gaunt than it had been once, her cheekbones a little more visible beneath her finely wrinkled skin, but her eyes were timeless; as blue and crystal-clear as they had been when Twilight had first introduced Rarity and her other friends to Celestia, all those years ago.

“Rarity!” Celestia sang, her smile widening. “How lovely to see you, after all this time.” She stood and walked around the corner of her desk, raising one hoof to embrace the unicorn mare.

“Princess Celestia, darling!” Rarity carolled back, her voice rising several octaves above its usual range. “It’s been an absolute age! How have you been? And dear Princess Luna?”

They embraced briefly, Celestia’s cheek brushing against Rarity’s perfectly coiffed forelock before she drew back. “We are both doing splendidly, thank you.”

The pastel-coloured door thudded shut behind the pale pink form of Rarity’s daughter, who now strode forward, her blue ringlets bouncing. “Auntie Tia!” she cried, a wide smile splitting her muzzle, and a peculiar glint in her red eyes. “How wonderful to be here with you.”

Celestia, who had spent many, many indeterminably long Privy Council meetings perfecting her unfaltering expression of polite interest and mild pleasure, was surprised to feel her lower left eyelid twitch slightly. Even after all this time, it seemed the filly was still able to bring those…unsavoury memories bubbling back to the surface. Moving quickly to cover her lapse, Celestia hastily brightened her own expression in response and stooped to embrace Rarity’s daughter just as she had the mother. “Cozy Glow, it has truly been too long.”

Celestia ushered the mother and daughter into two armchairs that she drew forward for them with her magic. She seated herself on the larger armchair that had been built specially for her. She had tried to create an aura of authenticity and respectability for Lustre Dawn, who had come in doubting the legitimacy of everything Celestia’s matchmaking service stood for, but for these next clients, it seemed wise to try for an informal atmosphere, which might invite confidences and lowered defences. Call her a sceptic, but to Celestia it seemed like Cozy Glow was a pony likely to have a great many defences in place.

She lit her horn one last time to tug the discreet bell-pull on the wall beside her chair. It connected to Raven Inkwell’s office, and Raven would know to bring a freshly brewed pot of tea.

“Welcome to my office,” Celestia said again, once they were all seated and settled. “I was hoping that we could use this first meeting to discuss what your family needs, and what you personally need, Cozy, from any potential mates.”

Cozy Glow leaned forward, her red eyes flashing once more, ready to launch into some preprepared monologue — she had been good at those, as Celestia recalled — but Rarity placed a gentle hoof atop her daughter’s and Cozy closed her mouth once more.

“Cozy Glow needs somepony sensitive and understanding,” Rarity said, her expression earnest. “She needs somepony who will be willing not to judge her or hold any preconceived notions against her. Somepony who will be generous enough to accept her as she is, and love her for who she has become.”

“Just as you have done,” Celestia noted, neutralising any sting her words might have held for the little family with a small smile.

“Yes,” Rarity nodded. “Exactly.” She tightened her hoof on Cozy’s. “All too often, Cozy Glow is faced with…prejudice, or assumptions about what her character must be. She is a good pony. And she deserves another good pony to love her.”

Celestia turned now to the younger mare. “And you, Cozy Glow? What do you feel that you need?”

Cozy shot a look from under her heavy blue curls and leaned forward. “I want…somepony that can keep up with me.”

“In what way?” Celestia asked politely.

“I’m a very ambitious pony,” Cozy Glow said frankly. “And a very successful one. I want somepony who can match my drive and my ambition; and my salary. I enjoy a certain lifestyle, and I want a companion — not a dead weight.”

Celestia nodded. This was more forthrightness than she had expected from her first few minutes with Cozy Glow. She drew open one of her desk drawers with her magic and pulled out a small notebook, along with a quill and inkwell. Keeping all three suspended in the air before her, she dipped her pen and began to make a few notes.

“But bits aren’t Cozy’s driving force, obviously,” Rarity hastily put in. “Are they, darling?”

Cozy smirked, but at Rarity’s raised eyebrows the smile became more genuine and she shook her head. “No, Mama, of course not. But as Aunt Applejack would say, you might as well be honest.” She turned back to Celestia. “Money is important to me. I want somepony who can keep up with my pace of life, both in work and out of it. And I’d be lying if I said money wasn’t a part of that. I find salary a useful indicator for how ambitious a pony is.”

Rarity fondly stroked her daughter’s hoof. “Cozy is a real go-getter, Princess. I’m certain she’ll be made a judge when she retires from working as a lawyer.”

Cozy giggled, a childish, familiar sound that sent chills racing up and down Celestia’s spine, even now. She remembered that laugh — she remembered the horror of Grogar’s Bell tolling as it sucked her magic, the very essence of her soul, out of her. And Luna, screaming and thrashing beside her, tormented as Celestia was, while Celestia was powerless to help herself or her beloved little sister, and the alicorn foal holding the bell just kept laughing—

“And I’d prefer someone from a good family,” Rarity said hastily, looking apprehensively up at Celestia’s expression.

Celestia hastily smoothed her face back to neutrality and busied herself with taking notes. “How so?”

“Well, I would like the whole family to embrace Cozy. Its always been just the two of us, and I want something more for her — loving parents-in-law who are willing to treat her as one of their own, maybe even siblings-in-law.”

Celestia nodded and wrote down: Welcoming family. Perhaps one that didn’t read any newspapers twenty years ago.

“A Canterlot family would be my preference,” Rarity went on. “We’ve lived here for most of Cozy’s life, Cozy’s work is here, and the largest of my Boutiques. I would hate for Cozy to have to relocate, or for her new partner to have to relocate here. It doesn’t feel like it would be a good start to a relationship.”

Celestia nodded again.

A small noise at the inner door, and then Raven Inkwell appeared, pushing a small tea trolley. Celestia felt a wave of relief. A good cup of tea was just what she needed.

Raven quietly mixed Celestia’s own tea, knowing exactly how to prepare it — three sugars, lots of milk — and unobtrusively asked Rarity and Cozy Glow how they took theirs. Both favoured black tea with little added. Celestia winced inwardly as she watched them both take their first mouthfuls. How could anypony stand to drink anything so bitter?

Once Raven Inkwell retreated back through the door to her office, tea trolley in tow, Celestia took a delicate sip from her own cup. “Have you anything else to add, Cozy Glow?”

Cozy Glow shrugged. “Only what I said before. I require someone with the brains to keep up with me intellectually, and the ambition to keep up with me professionally.”

Celestia dipped her head in assent and underlined the relevant parts of her notes for emphasis. “There is one more thing.”

“Oh?”

“It’s something your mother mentioned in our initial discussion.” Celestia searched for a delicate way to phrase it.

Cozy Glow stiffened in her chair and tossed her blue mane, a gesture surprisingly reminiscent of Rarity. “And what is that?”

“Rarity mentioned that you, ah, struggle, with making friends. That you have few close relationships besides her, and little contact with ponies outside of a professional context.”

Cozy Glow’s eyes narrowed, and Celestia felt a chill run down her spine as all of that terrifying intellect was focused on her. “And what is the relevance of that preference of mine to this conversation?”

“Cozy!” Rarity scolded. “Don’t speak to Auntie Tia that way.”

Cozy Glow set her jaw, but then took a breath through her nostrils and visibly relaxed. “Of course, Mama. I was only asking.”

Celestia had her answer ready now. “Everything I can learn about you and your life helps me to select suitable matches for you. I’m trying to get to know you a little.”

Cozy tossed her curls again. “I simply prefer not to associate excessively with other ponies, in the context of friendship. I understand why that might shock you, given my mother’s background, but its just a…personal choice of mine.”

Celestia took another sip of her tea. “Of course, and everypony’s personal choices and circumstances are valid and unique. But understanding why you feel that way will help me find a match for you.”

Cozy sighed audibly, a noise of clear frustration. "I had friends when I was younger — I had friends that would do anything for me. But Mama has always been clear that I shouldn’t make friends unless its…genuine. For me as well as them. And so I keep myself to myself. My work and my family have been enough for me for a long time.”

“Don’t forget your hobbies, darling,” Rarity interjected, ever eager to soften the impression Cozy Glow’s words made. “Cozy is a kick-boxing champion,” she told Celestia proudly. “And of course she’s been a chess grand master since she was seventeen. One of Equestria’s youngest ever!”

Celestia feigned a polite smile at these revelations.

“The record-holder was fourteen at the time of their ultimate victory,” Cozy added, with a small smirk. “I probably could have done it younger than that, but at that point in my life I had a lot of other irons in the fire.”

Celestia’s hoof tightened imperceptibly on the arm of her chair.

“I play with the Canterlot Champion’s Club four or five times a week,” Cozy said, looking studiously at one of her hooves. “But its terribly dull. Nopony there is really up to my level.”

“But something has changed for you now, with regards to seeking out other ponies for companionship?” Celestia prompted. It seemed wise to steer the conversation back to safer waters. Away from any discussion regarding Cozy Glow’s early teenage years. “You’re finding you feel differently about your life?”

“Now, I find myself thinking about the future,” Cozy Glow answered, looking up from her hooves and past Celestia into the distance. “I can’t always be reliant on my mother. I need some other form of companionship. I know that friendship isn’t right for me, at the moment. Family is what I value. So I’m searching for a way to find another family member.”

“A partner,” Celestia suggested.

“A wife, a husband, somepony special,” Cozy shrugged. “I don’t care much about the specifics. Just as long as they meet my requirements.”

“Intelligent, and ambitious,” Celestia supplied.

Cozy Glow confirmed it with a small jerk of her head.

“And kind, loving, welcoming, and with a large family,” Rarity chimed in.

Celestia assented quietly. “I have it all on my list.” She set her empty teacup on the side table and put her hooves together. “Well, thank you both for coming in. It has been…most pleasant, to catch up with you. I will think carefully about everything we discussed, and I’ll bring you an initial set of choices within the next couple of weeks.”

“That’s it?” Cozy Glow sounded relieved. She was already getting to her hooves.

“Yes, that’s it,” Celestia found one last smile for the little family as she ushered them out of the door, and then sank back into her chair with a sigh. Those piercing red eyes, that uncannily quick wit…maybe she wasn’t as over Cozy Glow’s past misdemeanours as she had thought. She took another deep breath and passed a hoof across her eyes. Maybe she would cancel tomorrow’s appointments and return to the Castle of the Two Sisters early this week. Even if Luna wouldn’t be back until Thursday, Celestia felt like she needed a little extra relaxation after all this.

Chapter 3

Lustre Dawn led the group up the cobbled street towards Celestia’s office. Her heart was racing; she couldn’t remember being this anxious since her schooldays, when Twilight would set her tests at the end of every month to show what she’d learned.

A sizeable group clattered after her. Her mothers, of course, bickering gently about some new magic trick Trixie had designed. Sunburst and Twilight following behind, garnering many stares from passersby. The Princess and the Prince Consort were always a cause of excitement, no matter how often they went out and about in Canterlot. And behind them, at a slower pace, came all of her various grandparents. Her three grandfathers from both sides: Firelight, Jackpot and Big Bucks. And then behind them, Stellar Flare, Sunspot, and even Twilight Velvet and Night Light. Lustre Dawn had never seen all of them in one place before. A family gathering of this size was unprecedented.

She was just grateful that at least Cadence, Shining Armour and her cousin Flurry Heart had not had the invitation extended to them as well. Four alicorns in one place would have been enough to get every paparazzi pony in Equestria out of the woodwork. Lustre already felt like there was a huge spotlight shining directly on her and this one enormous decision. She did not need any more attention.

She stopped at the pastel blue door, and pushed it slowly open after a perfunctory knock.

At once, Celestia’s voice greeted her. “Lustre Dawn! Please come in.”

Lustre Dawn obeyed. The room had been considerably reorganised since she was last here. The small, intimate groupings of armchairs and sofas had been pushed back against the walls, to transform into one huge circle, with Celestia’s desk at the head. Lustre looked at all those seats and sighed. Her family would fill every single one.

Lustre reluctantly padded across the room and sat on the same plush armchair as last time. Behind her, her family filed in, claiming chairs one after another. Twilight was the only one to pause, casting about her uncertainly for a chair of suitable size. But Celestia had planned for this, and was ushering her towards a sturdy-looking sofa, reassuring Twilight that it bore her own weight often — “Which, despite everything, I think is still a little more than yours, my faithful student,” she laughed, embracing Twilight warmly.

It was true, Lustre Dawn noted. Celestia was still a full head taller than Twilight.

When everypony was seated, the room felt very small indeed. Aside from the crowd of ponies, the vast bulk of the two alicorns was almost oppressive, their horns nearer the ceiling than the level of the ponies’ heads, towering over everything. Their manes, waving independently of any breeze or airflow, were almost enough to fill the room.

Lustre Dawn felt her family’s eyes on her, and felt hot and uncomfortable. She felt sweat begin to bead along her spine. She wished they could somehow have done this part without her being present.

Celestia took the pile of papers from Raven Inkwell and stacked them neatly on the small table beside her. “Alright. I think, everypony, that we are ready to begin.” She looked around the room at all of them, her eyes resting briefly on each pony. “In this session we’ll discuss what we think Lustre Dawn needs in a partner, as well as what this family — not to mention Equestria as a whole — needs from them. This will help me to make my initial selection of matches for Lustre Dawn to make her own choice from.”

“That sounds like an excellent starting point,” Starlight said, establishing control of the room as she often did in discussions about Lustre’s future. Lustre Dawn had often thought privately that Starlight never quite wanted to allow Twilight the same standing as ‘parent’ that she and Trixie enjoyed. Lustre Dawn didn’t want to hurt her mothers; that was why, even after so many years, Lustre’s relationship with Twilight was closer to that of teacher and student than to parent and child.

“We want Lustre to be with somepony powerful, of course,” Trixie put in immediately. “Lustre is a very advanced mage. We want somepony who will be able to keep up with her skill.”

“I think we all agree on that,” Firelight chimed in. “A unicorn would absolutely be best for the family.”

Celestia smiled and nodded her head. “Do you all feel this way?”

There were nods and murmurs of assent from around the room. Lustre Dawn wanted nothing more than to crawl under a rock. It was somehow dreadful to have her grandparents, of all ponies, voicing their thoughts on who she should marry.

“I think aligning with our family’s values is the most important thing,” Sunburst spoke up now. “We want somepony loving, tolerant, somepony family-focused who can mesh well with our non-standard family structure.”

Twilight pricked her ears up as he spoke and raised a hoof. “We also think somepony — or somecreature — who aligns with Equestria’s values is vital.” She cleared her throat slightly and lit her horn, drawing a small scroll from under one wing. “I prepared a list.” She unrolled it, and was about to begin reading from it, when Celestia began to laugh.

All eyes turned in shock to the older alicorn, who hastily hid her mouth with one hoof. “Forgive me,” she said hurriedly. “Twilight, you just…never change. Please, do share your list with us.”

Twilight cleared her throat. “Well, obviously we want somepony who values friendship, and embodies the elements at least to some degree. A kind, generous, honest, loyal pony, who can help Lustre laugh a little, and come out of her shell. Sometimes she can be a little serious.”

Lustre Dawn buried her head in her hooves. By all the stars, this was the most embarrassed she could remember ever being in her life.

“That’s quite a list there, Twilight,” Trixie said lightly, but with a small edge to her tone. “Don’t you think you’re setting a rather unattainable goal for Celestia? Somepony who embodies every virtue might be a little hard to find.”

Starlight placed a restraining hoof on her wife’s foreleg. “I think the real thing we are looking for is simple; somepony who makes Lustre happy. That’s the absolute most important criteria.”

Twilight rolled her list back up, looking a little disgruntled.

Celestia turned at last to Lustre Dawn. “Lustre, do you have any thoughts you’d like to share?”

Lustre peered out from behind her fringe, and immediately wished she had not. Everypony was staring at her, waiting for her to make a huge life decision right here, right now. Usually, she prided herself on her confidence and unflappable calm — her rationality — but this would be enough to scare anypony.

“Lustre Dawn?” Celestia prompted again.

Lustre groaned. “Stars, Auntie Tia, I don’t know — its like asking somepony who’s never eaten anything other than grass what they want to order at a five star restaurant.”

Celestia nodded understandingly. “Of course, of course. Everypony begins this process differently. Some ponies come to me blind, much as you are doing. Some ponies come to me to ask for guidance with somepony already in mind, like Trixie and Starlight Glimmer did. In some more unusual cases, ponies come to me thinking that they have nopony in mind, and then I help them to realise that they have somepony special ready and waiting, right in front of them.” She quirked one corner of her mouth. “That was what happened for Twilight and Sunburst.”

Lustre Dawn gaped and swung to look at her father and stepmother. Sunburst flushed a little, and placed his hoof atop the larger leg of his wife. Princess Twilight beamed down at him, her earlier grumbles about the list forgotten.

First her mothers, and now this. This was insane. Had Celestia had a hoof in the pie of every relationship in Lustre’s life? Lustre Dawn shook her head. For all she knew, Princess Celestia had arranged every single marriage in Equestria.

“But in terms of personality,” Celestia persisted, “Or hobbies, perhaps. Do you have anything you might like to look for?”

Lustre rubbed her neck, still uncomfortably aware of everypony’s eyes on her. “Well, I suppose — somepony independent? I’m very close to my friends. I don’t want a relationship to interfere with that.”

Celestia nodded and made a note on one of her pieces of paper.

“You never know, sweetie,” Trixie interjected. “Sometimes it can be the nicest when your special somepony is also one of your friends.”

Lustre Dawn groaned again. “Mum! I don’t want to marry one of my friends.”

Trixie raised her hooves in mock surrender. “I know, I know! I meant that the pony you marry — it’s good if they can become one of your friends, and mesh with your group, rather than the two of you living separate lives.”

“Let’s not derail Lustre Dawn’s preferences,” Celestia cautioned. “Her needs are very valid, and we must absolutely take them into account.” She turned back to Lustre Dawn. “What about your other interests, Lustre, besides your friends?”

Lustre Dawn tapped her hooves uncertainly against one another. “Uhm…well…I suppose there’s magic? I’ve always spent a lot of time on it, and I love learning new spells. Studying. Reading, generally. I like fiction as well as spellbooks.”

“What kind of fiction?” Celestia asked patiently.

“Romances,” Lustre Dawn said, blushing a little. “They’re silly, I know, but I like that they all have happy endings. And historical novels, too. I love the stories of old Equestria.”

Celestia suppressed another smile, and Lustre Dawn wanted to kick herself for saying something so stupid to one of the few living ponies who had seen old Equestria.

“That’s very good,” Celestia said, making another couple of notes on her page. “Can you think of anything else?”

Lustre Dawn cast about for something else she could say. It was so difficult to encapsulate oneself in a few words. “I like, uh, eating?” She offered weakly. “Restaurants and stuff. I can’t cook to save my life. And I like musicals.”

“Alright,” Celestia said smoothly. “So perhaps somepony who shares those interests. Is that all?”

Lustre flushed again. “I — I think so.”

Celestia put down her quill and raised the sheet of paper into the air so she could take a closer look at it. “Alright. So we have the following criteria: a unicorn, strong in magic, family-focused, open and loving, as virtuous as possible, independent, and possibly with interests including spending time with friends, learning, reading, fiction, fine dining, and the theatre. Does that about sum it up?”

Lustre Dawn nodded hesitantly, and her family followed suit. She still wasn’t sure why all of her grandparents had needed to be here for this; none of them had said anything other than Grandpa Firelight. She imagined they were all just here for the thrill of it; despite their number, she was the only grandchild any of them had, and they were all eager for any scraps she offered, be that visits or letters. None of them would have wanted to miss out on this event, after her mothers had made the mistake of extending the invitation.

“Alright,” Celestia smiled, sounding genuinely happy. “Well, I think I am in a position to offer you some profiles right away. I know my client base fairly well, and I think I have three ponies who would fit this criteria quite well.”

Lustre Dawn’s heart sank. So soon? She had been about to get up and lead the way out of this chamber of horrors. She hadn’t expected to hear from Celestia for several weeks. All of that longed-for freedom was evaporating before her eyes. She’d never be able to get away to visit Yurik in Yakyakistan this weekend. Her family would be all over her, trying get her to make a choice.

Celestia tugged on a nearby bell-pull with her magic, and the door to the back office opened almost immediately, as though her assistant had been listening behind the door. Lustre Dawn scowled. It wouldn’t surprise her. It seemed everypony in Equestria was allowed to attend discussions of her impending nuptials.

“Yes, Pri- Auntie Tia?” The assistant caught herself before she used the wrong title.

Celestia seemed not to have noticed the slip. “Raven Inkwell, would you please fetch me the profiles for Silver Sun, Piaffe, and Sparkling Wine? They should all be in the filing cabinets.”

The assistant dipped her head respectfully. “Of course, Princess. I’ll be right back.”

There was an uncomfortable pause, but then Celestia busied herself in producing the same glass vase of water and stacks of drinking glasses. Everypony was soon engaged in passing the glasses around and pouring themselves some water, and the silence was broken. Lustre Dawn thanked Big Bucks, who served her with a glass, and levitated it to her mouth. At least if she was drinking nopony was expecting her to talk.

Before too long, Raven Inkwell returned, three slim folders in her teeth. She carefully laid them on the desk before Celestia, who fanned them out with her hooves.

“The process from here,” Celestia began, her hooves skimming over the pale pink cardboard of the folders, “is quite simple. I have three profiles for you to take away and read. I feel that each of these ponies would be a good match for you, based on what we have talked about today.”

“Okay.” Lustre Dawn’s first feeling was of relief. At least it seemed she would be able to take this next decision in private. She leaned across the desk to reach for the files, but Stellar Flare raised a hoof to stop her.

“Wait!”

Lustre Dawn flinched. Of all her grandparents, she dreaded her visits to Nana Stellar Flare the most. Stellar Flare had standards higher than Cloudsdale, and even Sunburst, her beloved son and the centre of her universe, often failed to live up to them. The sky only knew what she was going to say next.

Celestia inclined her head towards Stellar Flare, her ears politely swivelling to indicate her attention.

“I think we should discuss the potential matches now,” Stellar Flare said, her voice querulous with age, but no less strident for all that. “It’s important that all of Lustre Dawn’s family get a say.”

Lustre ground her teeth. She might have known Nana Flare would do this. It was completely typical of her.

“Is that what you all wish?” Celestia asked graciously, but her eyes moved to Lustre Dawn.

Lustre Dawn sighed and spread her hooves. Everypony else nodded enthusiastically. Celestia smiled and opened the first folder. “Very well. I shall give you a brief overview of the three potential matches, and then we will leave Lustre Dawn to make the final decision in her own time. We shall begin with Silver Sun. Silver Sun is a stallion from an old Manehattan family, I believe the same age as Lustre Dawn. He’s an accomplished mage; perhaps not to quite your level, Lustre Dawn, but he is a lecturer at Manehattan University, specialising in Magical Theory.”

Lustre nodded, hesitant.

Celestia continued to skim through the contents of the folder. “Silver Sun lives with his parents; he told me that he is very close to them. Family-focused, as you asked for, Sunburst. He spends his free time volunteering at my — I mean, the Manehattan shelter for homeless ponies. He has written several ground-breaking papers on higher magic.”

“My, he sounds marvellous,” Firelight said. “So talented!”

“And generous,” Twilight added eagerly. “Extending the hoof of friendship to the less fortunate.”

Lustre squirmed. She wasn’t so sure she wanted to date a pony who voluntarily chose to live with his parents. She often went to stay with her parents on weekends, but she still had her flat in Canterlot, her own life. And she might sound cold, but somepony whose only hobby was volunteering with the homeless sounded a little…dull. Like they might look down on her for not being equally selfless.

“What’s the next one?” Starlight asked swiftly, after a quick look at her daughter’s face.

Celestia opened the second file. “Piaffe is a ballerina; a unicorn born in Appleoosa and now living here in Canterlot. She tells me that her chief passion in life is her career. She’s a very independent pony, very ambitious. She’s starred in five major productions already. She lives in a flat in the east quarter with a group of friends.”

Lustre Dawn sat forward in her chair. This seemed a bit more like it.

“Are you sure a mare is a wise choice?” Stellar Flare asked suddenly.

Everypony swung to look at her, and she clutched with wrinkled hooves at Sunspot’s leg for support.

“What do you mean?” Trixie asked, her tone making it clear that Stellar Flare was trading dangerous ground.

“Well,” Stellar Flare fished around for the words she so obviously wanted. “I know that it has worked marvellously well for you, Trixie, and for your fathers — but it does make the whole foals aspect quite complex.”

Lustre Dawn couldn’t believe what she was hearing — Stellar Flare had never expressed discontent at their family arrangements before.

“Mum, I don’t think this is a good time for that discussion,” Sunburst said hastily. “That’s not up for debate here.”

Stellar Flare shakily pushed her glasses up her nose. “It’s just that I know you have never liked having to share your daughter, Sunny.”

Lustre Dawn gasped and looked at her father. He paled and his eyes flicked to Starlight and Trixie, who looked grim and huddled closer to one another.

“That’s enough, Mum!” Sunburst said sharply, recovering himself. “I love Lustre Dawn, and Twilight and I have always been happy that she gets to have four loving parents instead of two.”

Trixie leaned forward in her seat. “Let’s get back to discussing matches for my daughter, shall we?” She shot a furious glare at Stellar Flare, who fell silent at last.

Celestia cleared her throat. “Ahem. Yes. Well, Piaffe’s hobbies mainly centre around dance. She is a professional ballerina, but in her spare time she enjoys Flamenco, hip hop, and capoeira.”

Lustre Dawn nodded briskly, wanting more than anything now to get this all over with and go home. To be alone. “And what about Sparkling Wine?”

Celestia seemed a bit surprised at the rapid progress, but took it in her stride, shuffling quickly to the final folder. “Sparkling Wine is another very magically strong unicorn, from a very old noble Canterlot family. They own the Canterlot Red vineyards. He says here that he loves his family and wants foals of his own some day. He’s a fireworks mage in Twilight’s royal fireworks corp. Generating fireworks that resemble moving images is his specialty. I’ve tried it myself; it takes a great deal of magical energy. His hobbies listed here include…hmm…going to the theatre often — he’s a big fan of Shake Spear, the playwright. He taught himself Old Ponish in his spare time so that he could read Shake Spear’s plays ‘as they were meant to be performed’.”

Lustre Dawn felt her hopes lift for the first time. He’d taught himself Old Ponish? And liked to read? If she had to meet with somepony, it may as well be somepony who liked studying and learning new things as much as she did. She didn’t even have to think about it. “That one! I’ll meet with Sparkling Wine.”

“You’ve decided already?” Celestia asked. “There’s plenty of time, if you wanted to go away and read the profiles for yourself, give it a little thought.” She offered the three files.

Lustre Dawn enveloped them in her own magic and pulled them over. She flipped all three open and looked at their portraits. Silver Sun was, as expected, pale grey with a white mane, a cutie mark of an old scroll on his flank. Piaffe’s photo showed her mid-dance, all lean toned muscle and long blonde mane. She was beautiful, but the expression of total focus on her face was…a little intimidating. Her cutie mark was a long, flowing dance ribbon. Finally, Sparkling Wine’s photo revealed a handsome stallion in a white tuxedo, pale blue fur with a light green mane, his cutie mark an explosion of green light. Huh. Better looking than she had expected. Yes, he would do nicely, for a first try at this arranged dating lark.

“I like the sound of him too,” Starlight said. “Magically strong, interested in theatre. Hobbies in common. You could go to a show with him, Lustre.”

“Yeah,” Lustre Dawn agreed, her dismal expectations for the coming week brightening a little. “We could see The Phantom of the Perilous Peak. It’s running again with a new cast.”

“Ah yes,” Celestia sighed. “Autumn Blaze really does produce the most wonderful musicals. Every time I see the show it reminds me how glad I am that we established contact with the kirin.”

Lustre Dawn nodded, in total agreement. The day that Twilight and Applejack had introduced her to Autumn Blaze, writer and composer of her favourite musical, had been one of the most exciting events of her childhood.

“Well, why don’t you mull the three options over for a few days?” Celestia suggested. “Then come and and tell me what you have decided. Then we can set up a first date.”

Lustre Dawn nodded once more. She got up from her chair, carrying the three files carefully, spines downward, so that none of the contents would spill. “I will. Thanks, Auntie Tia.” For the first time, she was feeling a little spark of optimism that this strange process could lead to somewhere good.

Chapter 4

Celestia stared out the window, watching the fields and forests of her beloved kingdom race past. Canterlot was just a speck perched on the dwindling mountains behind her, and the rolling green landscape was slowly flattening into agricultural countryside. The land was rich and fertile, the fields heavy with crops ripe for the harvest, and Celestia’s heart sang to see her little ponies flourishing.

She glanced back to the interior of the carriage. Usually Celestia’s weekly journey to the Castle of the Two Sisters was one she preferred to fly solo. The opportunity to soar alone and unguarded was still a novel experience for her, after so many centuries of being surrounded by guards or pulled in chariots. She looked forward to those moments of solitude in the sky. But this week she was not going directly to her Everfree residence. She had a stop to make first, and the chance to catch the train and mingle with new ponies had caught her fancy.

She looked across at the mare sitting opposite her, who was currently attempting to create a convincing impersonation of a pony calmly reading their newspaper, whilst staring avidly at Celestia’s every movement. Indeed, Celestia’s vast mane took up most of the seat next to the mare, and every time its undulations threatened her newspaper, it was drawn respectfully, even reverently, backwards, that its ink might not sully the luminescent curls.

Celestia caught the little mare’s eye and rewarded her with a warm smile. The pony gave a small “Eep!” and vanished completely behind the newspaper, her whole face flaming crimson.

Celestia chuckled to herself and looked once more out of the window. The Everfree Forest was visible now, a dark line on the horizon promising another weekend of peaceful isolation with Luna. And before it were the brightly thatched rooves of the little town that had so shaped the life of Celestia’s most treasured student.

Ponyville.

The cosy little profile of the town was dominated now by the School of Friendship, the mountain behind it, and the Castle of Friendship, but its quintessential charm remained. Celestia remembered with pleasure the many Summer Sun Celebrations she had passed here with Twilight and her friends. The next one was only a few months away. Although she was no longer the pony that would raise the sun, she never missed the Celebration and the first sunrise of the year. She loved to feel the familiar kiss of warmth on her fur that her old friend always brought her.

Disembarking the train with some little difficulty — train doors were simply not constructed for ponies of her stature — she proceeded slowly down Ponyville’s main street. New shops had sprung up since she had first begun to regularly visit the town, but the ones she remembered the best still remained. Rarity’s original Carousel Boutique, the Cakes’ bakery, now accompanied by Pinkie Pie’s Party Emporium and Cheese Sandwich’s Silly Supply Store.

Ponies stopped to stare, as they always did. Many of the older ponies stooped to bow as she passed, and Celestia smiled and dipped her head slightly in recognition of their salute. She had discovered long ago it was better to gently correct ponies on her new status once she had gotten to know them a little more. They had the best of intentions, and she had no wish to offend them. But she had no time educate them today; she had an appointment to keep.

She left Ponyville behind her and made her way up the dirt track that led towards one of the places Twilight had surely visited the most when she lived here; Sweet Apple Acres.

The old red barn still stood, its paint fresh and bright as ever. Celestia smiled to herself, remembering the letter she had received from Twilight about the barn’s construction. Ponyville was a place heavy with memories.

“Princess Celestia!” A deep voice called out, and heavy hoof-falls sounded to Celestia’s left.

With a flick of her head and a little conscious magical effort, she was able to change the direction her mane was flowing in, in order to better see the approaching stranger.

The earth pony stallion approaching her was huge, his head almost up to Celestia’s withers. His size and orange mane meant he could only be one member of the Apple family.

“Apple Tart,” Celestia responded with warmth. “How pleasant to meet you at last.”

The stallion doffed the brown stetson he wore and lowered his head respectfully. “An’ mighty pleased to meet you too, Ma’am. We’ve been expectin’ you all mornin’.”

Celestia’s ears tilted forward in mild concern. “I hope that I’m not late?”

Apple Tart shook his head emphatically. “Oh, no, Ma’am, Princess. We were all just plum excited to meet ya.” He shifted his hind hooves a little uncertainly and replaced his hat on his head, suddenly looking much younger. “Ain’t no small thing to have royalty comin’ to the farm, even with Princess Twilight Sparkle poppin’ in an’ out all the time.” He perked up again. “Can Ah walk ya over to the house to meet everypony?”

Celestia nodded. “That would be wonderful. Though I think I am already acquainted with most of the family, younger members excluded. But I am very much looking forward to getting to know all of you a little more. How are your parents? Has Big Mac’s leg recovered? I heard that it was quite a nasty break.”

Apple Tart brightened at the subject of his father. “Oh, Pa’s as tough as an old goat. Ain’t nothing that could keep him down. Even when he was in that wheelchair he was always out in the orchard, tellin’ me what trees to tend to next. And Ma’s doin’ great too. Her apple pies are sellin’ — well, like apple pies! Every year we have to increase production more an’ more.” He beamed as he said it, and Celestia smiled. It was clear that devotion to the family farm still ran strong in the Apple bloodline.

“And your little sister?” She combed through her memory for the name. “Pippin, if I remember correctly?”

Apple Tart confirmed it with another nod, clearly pleased that she knew his family so well. “Ayup, that’s right. Pippin’s at Manehattan University now, studyin’ agritech. She’s a credit to all of us. Comes back with all these crazy ideas, but Ah tell you what — some of ‘em really do work. Her ideas for irrigatin’ the mango grove worked wonders for our yield.”

They approached the front of the big house now, and Celestia could see several figures seated on the various rocking chairs and porch swings. All were dressed in their sunday best, clearly in anticipation of her arrival.

“Princess Celestia!” Sugar Belle cried, smiling widely as she got to her hooves. She leant over to the hunched figure in the wheelchair next to her. “Granny! Granny! Look who’s here!”

“Eh? Whassat?” The little green figure beside her muttered, through a muzzle as wrinkled and wizened as a walnut shell.

“It’s Princess Celestia!” Sugar Belle repeated.

Celestia gave them both her hoof in greeting, and while Sugar Belle smiled back and shook it, Granny Smith merely blinked at her uncertainly. Celestia’s face softened as she looked at the little old lady, and she lit her horn very briefly. A simple spell of clarity and healing would give the elderly pony a few days of feeling more like her old self.

Celestia turned now to the other ponies gathered on the porch. Big Mac, his mane streaked with grey now but his huge muscles still equal to those of his son, shook her hoof firmly but stayed characteristically silent. Apple Bloom and her partners — Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo were their names, Celestia thought, and she was fairly certain she remembered them featuring in some of Twilight’s letters — also greeted her.

Last to come forward was Apple Tart’s wife, Orange Peel, her belly big with the next member of the Apple clan. She pressed Celestia’s extended hoof between both of her own and smiled gratefully up at her. Celestia offered her congratulations, and reflected privately that it was lovely to see one of her matches turn out so well. Apple Tart and Orange Peel’s marriage had been a very successful one; two agricultural families, two eldest siblings focused on creating a family of their own. Their union had obviously— her lips quirked slightly at her own pun — borne fruit.

“Thank you all for being here to meet with me,” she said, as graciously as she could, knowing that today was important to all of them. “But the parents have requested that I meet with them first, privately. I’ll come back and join you all later — for tea, perhaps? In the meantime, could you point me in the direction of the cottage?”

Apple Tart affirmed that he could, and chivalrously offered to escort her there. He led Celestia down a small, winding grass path that cut through several orchards towards the outskirts of the farm. There, in a peaceful grove of apple trees, was a pretty little cottage, carved of the same distinctive red wood as the main Apple house. Apple Tart took his leave, and Celestia crossed the decorative row of stones at the garden’s edge alone.

She raised a tentative hoof and knocked twice on the little red door. She stepped back so that she was a respectful distance from the doorway, and eyed it dubiously. It was much too small for her to get through without a great deal of undignified wriggling, and that would not be a good first impression to make on her new client. No, they had better meet outside.

There was a clattering noise from within the cottage, a muffled exclamation, and then the door flew open with a bang. Celestia knew even before the pony emerged exactly which member of the family it would be.

“Hello, Rainbow Dash,” she said.

“Celestia!” Rainbow smiled broadly. “Great to see you! Come on in!” She beckoned enthusiastically, but her smile waned as she took in Celestia’s height. “Right. I always forget that bit. I’ll get some chairs out here. Hang on!”

Rainbow was just turning to fly back inside when Applejack appeared behind her wife, resettling her hat in a disgruntled way. “Landsakes, Rainbow Dash,” she grumbled. “The amount of times Ah have to tell ya it ain’t a race to the door.”

Rainbow snickered and stuck her tongue out, softening the foalish gesture with an affectionate touch on the shoulder. “Then why do you always try to beat me?”

Applejack snorted and pushed the hoof away, but she was smiling as she did so. “‘Cause somepony has to at least try, or you’d die of boredom.”

Rainbow Dash gasped. “Are you saying you only compete out of pity? Applejack!”

Celestia laughed along with their banter, and Rainbow darted away to fetch some stout oaken chairs, sturdy enough to bear even an alicorn’s weight. “Tried and tested!” she boasted. “Twilight’s been over plenty of times and sat on these exact chairs. And we’ve never had a breakage!”

“And where is Zap Apple?” Celestia asked, delicately seating herself on the small chair.

Applejack winced. “He’s…uh, in his room. He has some…doubts about this whole thing. Ain’t sure he wants to go along with it.”

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “I think we all have some doubts, AJ. Zaps is still young. He doesn’t need to get married.”

“We were younger than him when we got married,” Applejack returned. “By the time we were his age we were already mothers to a four-year-old.”

“But we wanted to be married,” Rainbow objected again.

Applejack silenced her wife with a hoof on her wing. “Sugarcube, Ah know you have your doubts, an’ Zaps does too, but this is important to Granny. She ain’t got much longer left in this world, an’ she wants to see her great-grandkids well an’ settled afore she goes. An’ marriage was the makin’ of me. And you. Motherhood too. Ah ain’t never seen you show care to anythin’ like you did when you were pregnant with Zaps.”

“And you want the same thing for Zap Apple?” Celestia guessed, cutting in to their discussion.

“Yeah,” Applejack answered. “Zaps is very like Rainbow was when she was young — all focused on his career. Ah jus’ want him to know family is important too. See him puttin’ down roots. Kids are real important to the Apple family. An’ Ah might like a grandfoal before I’m too old to do anythin’ with ‘em.”

“And how do you feel, Rainbow Dash?”

Rainbow sighed. “To be honest with you, I see more of AJ in Zaps than myself. He’s stubborn, just like his Mum is. I think he’ll come around to the idea of marriage and foals in his own time, when he finds somepony he likes.”

“Ah think the same!” Applejack interjected. “Ah just want Celestia to…give him a little nudge. Help him find somepony he likes, same as she did for Apple Tart.”

Rainbow sniggered again. “Aw, come off it, AJ. I know the real reason is that you’re just jealous that Big Mac’ll be a grandparent before you are.”

Applejack flushed. “That is — that is so rude, Rainbow!”

Rainbow Dash slung a hoof around her mate’s shoulders. “But you didn’t say it wasn’t true.”

Celestia smiled. The two of them had a unique dynamic, one that she enjoyed as much now as she had when they had come to her all those years ago for her advice prior to their wedding. Their love was palpable, even then, in the way they had looked at each other. Though their faces had aged and begun to wrinkle, their love was still the same, shining out of each of their eyes like little suns. If their son was anything like either of his mothers, she was sure he would be a wonderful young stallion.

“I wonder if you would fetch Zap Apple to meet with me? Nothing more than that.” she asked. “I have come all the way out here just to have a chat with him — and it’s difficult to do that while he’s in his room.”

Rainbow assented, and rather than going into the house, flew directly up to one of the first floor windows. She hammered on it with a hoof. “Zaps! Come on! The Princess is here.”

After a few more knocks the window begrudgingly scraped open. “Geez, Mum,” a voice said in a tone of complaint, “Do we really want to do this? You know that I’m not cool with it.”

Rainbow Dash’s wingbeats slowed a fraction and her ears tilted back in concern. “I know, kiddo. But your Mum really wants you to meet with the Princess. Give it a shot, huh? For her.”

A sigh, and then another pony was climbing out the window. His coat was a pale creamy yellow, and his mane was striped with red, orange and yellow, much like Rainbow Dash’s own. He spread his wings and flapped down after his mother, coming to land neatly on the fourth chair.

Celestia studied his face for a moment. His cheeks were speckled with the same freckles as his Apple kin, and his eyes were the same deep pink as Rainbow Dash’s. His muzzle showed a little of the broadness of Big Mac’s, but overall his build was trim and lean, a classic pegasus shape. His cutie mark — Celestia subtly leaned her head to one side to get a better look at it — was a whirlwind or tornado of some kind, in the same red-toned palette as his mane.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Zap Apple,” she began, and he nodded shortly.

“Your parents feel that they would like you to start thinking seriously about your future,” Celestia said carefully, trying to strike the right note. “Nopony wants to make you do anything you aren’t comfortable with, but I would like to help you to meet a few different ponies. The rest is completely up to you.”

Another nod from Zap Apple. His fuchsia eyes were hooded, resting sullenly on the ground.

“Ah would like Zaps to meet somepony who can steady him,” Applejack put in, when the silence began to stretch. “He leads a high-flyin’ lifestyle — always flittin’ from here to Appleoosa, wild parties every weekend, more mares and stallions in an’ out of his life than Ah can count.”

Rainbow Dash sighed again. “AJ, hon, he travels just as much as we did when we were working with Twilight and the map. And he works in Appleoosa. Would you rather he didn’t come home as much?”

Celestia got the strong impression that this was not the first time this discussion had taken place. Applejack was about to retort, when Celestia raised a gentle hoof.

“What is your job, Zap Apple?” she asked, hoping to draw him out with a simpler question.

He looked up at her, one flash of pink, and then down again, those heavy orange eyebrows pulling low. “Tornado creation.” His voice had the same country twang as Applejack’s, though to a slightly lesser degree.

Celestia had hoped for a more rounded answer, but squared her shoulders. She would work with what she was given. “And are you enjoying your work? Is your career progressing well?”

Zap Apple shrugged, and it was Rainbow Dash who answered. “Zaps is just the best in the biz. He’s nearly as strong a flier as I am. Coulda joined the Wonderbolts, if he’d wanted.” She beamed as she spoke, though the look she shot her son at the end of her final sentence made Celestia think that Rainbow Dash had very much wanted her son to follow her into a show-flying career.

“Or been a dang successful farm pony,” Applejack added. “He’s darn near as strong as an earth pony.”

Celestia nodded, beginning to get a sense of the family dynamics. Two very strong-willed and forceful parents, both subconsciously trying to push Zap Apple in two different directions. Perhaps it was no surprise he wasn’t saying much.

“But you chose tornado creation instead?” she prompted, looking directly at Zap Apple again.

He shrugged his wings. “Yeah.”

“What makes you enjoy it?” This was like getting blood from a stone.

He looked up again, a spark of something brightening his expression for a moment. “Its brilliant, being up there, riding the wind, making it stronger.” Then he seemed to catch himself and shook his heavy forelock over his eyes once more.

Celestia flared her own wings slightly in response. Yes, she knew the thrill of flight. In her younger days, she had loved to ride the monstrous storms that covered the mountains to the east, letting the lighting strike her and quicken her heartbeat, screaming her challenge back at the thunder’s roar.

“Would you say flying is perhaps one of your main interests?” she asked, levitating her trusty quill and notepad out from one of her saddlebags.

“Boy, is it!” Rainbow Dash cut in. “When he was a colt we’d race every morning — I always let him win, obviously, but then when he was older, he started being able to almost beat me for real!”

Celestia waited for Zap Apple’s own answer, but he only shrugged. “I guess.”

Celestia repressed a sigh of frustration. Perhaps the colt wasn’t being deliberately uncooperative. Possibly he was just naturally reticent; it wouldn’t be surprising, given the dominant personalities of his parents. Of course, she would be able to take this no further if Zap Apple himself was not interested in engaging. But for now, she might as well plumb Rainbow Dash and Applejack for what they wanted, and speak to Zap Apple in private later.

“So tell me,” she said, tapping the tips of her forehooves gently together, “what sort of partner you think would suit Zap Apple best?”

Applejack was immediately ready with an answer. “Ah think Zaps needs somepony to steady him. Somepony quiet, home-focused, with strong roots.” She shot an apologetic glance at Rainbow Dash. “An earth pony, if possible. An’ from a farmin’ family, if we can get it.”

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “Pegasi aren’t all ‘flighty’, AJ.”

Applejack raised her hooves. “Ah know! But our marriage did wonders for both of us, didn’it? You sped me up, an’ Ah slowed ya down.”

Rainbow smiled a small smile. “Yeah, its pretty great. I’ll give you that much.”

“It sounds like you have in mind somepony with a similar background to Orange Peel, perhaps?” Celestia suggested.

Applejack nodded. “Sure. Big Mac an’ Sugar Belle are over the moon about how well she’s fitted into the family these past few years. An’ now we’ve our next lil’ Apple on the way.”

“And what do you think Zap Apple needs, Rainbow Dash?” Celestia turned now to the blue-coated mare.

Rainbow fiddled with the rolled up sleeve of her flight jacket as she considered the question. “Well, I think AJ’s right — somepony steady could help Zaps get steadier himself. I’m not so sure it needs to be an earth pony or a farm pony. I just want them to have interests in common with Zaps.”

Celestia noted these down and asked a few more questions. Both parents were continuously quick to answer, but Zap Apple himself stayed resolutely silent.

Eventually, Celestia suggested that she speak to Zap Apple alone. Applejack and Rainbow Dash exchanged apprehensive glances, but both got to their hooves and went into the cottage. Celestia tried to ignore the twitches of the curtain covering the kitchen window, and the glimpses of pink and green eyes staring furtively from behind it.

“Tell me, Zap Apple,” she tried again. “What do you want from a potential mate? What would you like to share with them?”

Zap Apple held up a hoof to stop her. “Listen, Princess, let’s cut to the chase.”

Celestia blinked in surprise, but let him continue.

“My Mum and Great-Granny have forced my hoof,” he said, his tone one of displeasure. “They’ve made it clear that they want me to get married sooner rather than later. Just like golden-hoofed Apple Tart, who can do no wrong.” The resentment in his voice was strong.

“You don’t want to follow the same path as your cousin?” Celestia prompted.

“No!” Zap Apple spread his wings to emphasise the word. “He’s a goody four-shoes who never puts a hoof wrong, and the whole family is obsessed with him.” He pitched his voice higher, and put on a stronger country accent. “Oh, why cain’t ya be more like ya cousin, Zaps? We jus’ want ya to be happy!” He snorted. “As if being like Apple Tart would make me happy. He’s never going to leave Sweet Apple Acres.”

“But you want to leave?”

Zap Apple stared at her. “I already did! I work in Appleoosa, and I live there. I know my mums probably gave you the opposite impression, but I’m a fully grown stallion with a life of my own. I might like to party a bit, sure, but just because the Elements of Loyalty and Honesty would never do that, it doesn’t mean it’s a sin!”

Celestia nodded, her expression sympathetic. “It must have been hard to grow up, with two Bearers for mothers. That’s a lot of pressure for a colt.”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Zap Apple breathed out hard through his nostrils and ran a hoof through his untidy mop of hair. “I love being in Appleoosa. No one cares who my parents are — the other Apples there keep out of my way, and I keep out of theirs. I have my own friends, my own life.”

“Tell me about your friends.” Celestia seized on that detail. A pony’s friends could tell you a great deal about the pony themselves.

Zap Apple fidgeted in his chair. “I don’t know — I have a big friendship circle. I see a lot of different ponies.”

Celestia’s ears tilted forwards. “You don’t have many close friends, then?”

Zap Apple’s eyes narrowed. “I have plenty, thanks for asking, Princess. More close friends than I can count on my hooves.”

“Would you care to…tell me any of their names?” Celestia didn’t want to push too hard and alienate him, but she did need answers if she was going to help Zap Apple find a partner.

Zap Apple coloured. “I— I see a lot of different ponies,” he stuttered. “My friends from outside of work, my team-mates on the tornado squad: Butterball, Skylight, Swooping Song.”

“Team-mates, but not friends?” Celestia probed, trying hard to keep her voice soft and understanding.

“I don’t like to mix work and play.” Zap Apple looked away.

Celestia sat back, digesting the information. So that was the way things were for Zap Apple. A clear desire to excel, a strong streak of independence, but a fear of being lesser than his wildly successful parents. A certain air of loneliness, tempered by a reluctance to get close to other ponies. She resisted the urge to rub her hooves together. She did so love a challenge.

“I think you know that your parents only want the best for you, Zap Apple,” she said kindly.

Zap Apple gave a short jerk of his head. Barely enough to be called a nod.

“Would you be willing to humour them and meet with a couple of the ponies I suggest?”

He shrugged again. “Don’t think I have much choice.”

“But you do,” Celestia leaned forward, her tone earnest. “In this more than anything else, the choice can only be yours. Your parents can make suggestions and I can introduce you to ponies, but only you can decide. You can decide who you want to spend time with. Who you might want to build something of your own with.”

Her words were chosen carefully, and she watched Zap Apple’s expression as they sunk in. His mind worked, and then he looked up once more, meeting her gaze and holding it for the first time.

“Alright. We’ll give it a shot. But I’m making no promises that I’m going to marry anypony.”

Author's Note

As a little bonus, here's some art of Zaps that I did -

Chapter 5

Celestia trotted back into Ponyville proper, her mind already on her next appointment. Her final call of the day before she could head off to the Castle of the Two Sisters. She would need to take a few hours to properly prepare Luna’s ‘welcome home’ breakfast. Luna never tired of this special meal, consisting of huge stacks of pancakes and strawberries that the sisters grew themselves in the little kitchen garden they had established.

Her thoughts full of pleasure at the prospect of seeing her sister, Celestia headed into the main square of Ponyville and headed for the ornate building at its centre. The Carousel Boutique.

She stooped to enter the little door, and her horn knocked against a little bell that tinkled her arrival.

“We’ll be with you in just a moment!” Rarity’s voice called, echoed by the lower bass rumble of Yona, the new manager of this particular Boutique.

A clatter of hooves on the stairs, and Sandbar hastened into view. “Welcome to the Carousel Boutique!” he began, hardly looking up from the abacus he held. “Madame Yona will be—” He took in Celestia’s presence at last and stopped short. “Oh, Princess! Welcome. You have an appointment with Rarity, right? I’ll let her know you’re here.”

He ducked into the back room, and after a few moments Rarity appeared, her mane a little rumpled and her mouth full of pins. “Celestia, darling!” she said, the obstruction to her mouth not seeming to impede her speech at all. “You’re right on time. Yona and I were just working on a commission for Fleur de Lis’ sixtieth birthday. A very lovely gown. Timelessly elegant, just like Fleur herself.” She levitated a pincushion over from a nearby workbench and pushed the pins she held into it one by one. “But of course, you’re here for your own gown.”

Celestia simply nodded. She had always loved formal gowns, and Rarity’s were without compare — excepting possibly those of Fancy Stitch, a Canterlot tailor who had lived several hundred years ago and whose work Celestia had absolutely adored.

“What is the occasion this time?” Rarity asked, crossing to the wall of cubbyholes, each one containing a bolt of fabric. They were arranged by shade and colour, every hue of the rainbow stretching across the curved surface of the wall. Rarity began to pull a few out — a pale rose pink, a gentle aqua blue.

“No particular occasion,” Celestia said easily. “I just realised it has been a few years since last I commissioned you, and I decided that I rather desperately needed a new hoof-made Rarity gown.”

“Lovely, darling,” Rarity said appreciatively. “So no specific brief? No colours in mind?”

“No,” Celestia confirmed. She carried the second reason for her visit in the saddlebags she had placed on the coat-stand in the corner. Cozy Glow’s first prospective match. After long and careful thought, Celestia had picked out Prince Patrician, her own distant descendant. He was of a large and loving family, with several siblings. He carried powerful social clout, and if Cozy Glow were his wife she would be welcomed into Canterlot high society with open arms. She was sure Rarity would be pleased with the choice. Cozy Glow she was less certain of; one of several reasons she had decided to bring the match to the mother rather than the daughter. Another reason was that she didn’t quite want to be in a room alone with the diabolical little pegasus, but she pushed that thought aside. She needed a new gown, and the two tasks lined up. It was as simple as that.

“Marvellous,” Rarity went on. “I do love a little creative freedom every now and then. Especially when designing for you. Come and stand here, please.” She gestured Celestia onto a small podium surrounded by mirrors, each one twice the height of a normal pony and therefore just large enough to catch most of Celestia’s height.

Rarity bought several bolts of silk over and began to hold them up against Celestia’s flanks. “It’s much easier now that you needn’t always wear your regalia, Princess,” she said conversationally. “Gold can limit a palette most dreadfully. But now we can choose to emphasise any of the colours in your mane! Wonderful to have so many options, don’t you think?”

Celestia smiled and nodded, and after Rarity got a faceful of undulating mane, she busied herself tying it back, where it could not wave so freely.

“This will be the twentieth gown I’ve made for you, you know,” Rarity remarked, as she began to sketch some rough shapes onto scrap fabric with a piece of chalk.

“Is it really?” Celestia couldn’t remember that she had so many gowns by Rarity in her wardrobe, but then again, her wardrobe spanned seven rooms in the Castle of the Two Sisters, and three in her new Canterlot mansion. It was hardly surprising she couldn’t recall the full extent of it.

“Oh yes.” Rarity sighed happily. “Once I would hardly have been able to believe I’d make one gown for the princess of the sun. Let alone twenty!”

Celestia smiled and allowed Rarity to pin the rough draft of a dress into place on her. She turned and posed as Rarity requested, turning over in her mind how to phrase the question she wanted to ask. Had always wanted to ask.

“Rarity,” she began, and Rarity looked up in surprise, her mouth full of pins once more. “I’m afraid I have a bit of a personal question for you.”

Rarity floated the pins away from her mouth. “Please do ask, Princess.”

Celestia considered, and then looked away from Rarity and into the mirror as she spoke. “If you don’t mind me asking…why was it that you chose to adopt Cozy Glow? After everything she did? I know that I would not have been forgiving enough to make the same choice that you did.”

Rarity sighed.

Celestia turned to look anxiously down at her. “Forgive me, I’ve overstepped. I fear being away from the court begins to make me socially backward.”

Rarity waved a hoof. “No, darling, it’s…it’s alright. I’m afraid that over the years I’ve had to get rather used to ponies asking me that question.” She paused, and put a few more tacking stitches into place. “I suppose it was a little easier for me to forgive. Cozy never drained my magic in the way that she did yours. Twilight has explained to me how violating an experience that can be.” She snipped off a thread, and looked up at Celestia once more. “I suppose it was seeing her that first time…in the Canterlot Savings Bank. A few months after she was unfrozen. She’d broken out of Tartarus for perhaps the seventh time.” Her eyes took on a faraway expression, and Celestia could tell that Rarity was no longer truly looking at her.

“It had been a long time since I had last seen her. Ten, twelve years had passed for me. I’d grown up — I was a whole new mare. But for Cozy, it was no time at all. I looked at her, standing on top of that big mound of gold, screaming at the ponies on the floor and waving her energy crystal around, and I realised that she was still just that same little foal.” A wistful smile played around her lips.

“I saw her much more clearly than I ever had before. When I was young, everything was so black and white. Cozy Glow was…evil, I thought. Locking her up, trapping her in stone; it seemed the only rational thing to do. But as you age, you begin to see things differently— as I’m sure you know well, darling,” she said, returning to the present and giving Celestia that charming, slightly flirtatious smile that she used with everypony.

Celestia giggled. “If that is true, I must have had more viewpoints than anypony else in the world.”

Rarity smiled back. “That is almost certainly true, I’m sure. But seeing her there, so small and so angry, I could suddenly see what it seemed nopony else ever had. Cozy…she was just a foal. A scared little foal. And she was so, so lonely, and had been so for so long, that it warped her, and changed her into the broken little filly who tried to break everything and everypony the same way she was broken. And then I saw what I could do for her, what I could give her. The thing nopony else would give her.”

Celestia nodded encouragingly, entranced by Rarity’s tale. She had never heard the mare speak of it before in such detail.

“A second chance.” Rarity let out her breath in a whoosh of air, dissipating the tension, and scooped up the needle from where it hung abandoned against Celestia’s side. “You know the rest, of course, darling,” she said, returning to her work with vigour.

Celestia’s eyebrows shot up at the prick of the needle, but she held her breath and managed not to squeak in pain. She didn’t want to distract Rarity into apologies. “You spoke to her, and talked her down?”

Rarity chuckled. “I suppose that’s one way of putting it, darling, though rather simplified. Negotiating with Cozy in that state was like trying to reason with a wolf that sees a tasty dead rabbit about why he shouldn’t eat it. I convinced her that I was a more valuable hostage than everypony else combined, and got her to let them go. That bought us a little time, and Twilight and the girls couldn’t very well just implode the building with rainbow power while I was inside. So I just talked, and even though Cozy didn’t respond, she was listening. And eventually, after a few hours, she put down the crystal, and she let me give her a hug. And then we walked out of the bank, hoof in hoof.” She paused to cut another thread and tapped Celestia on the flank to let her know it was time to turn around. “After another very long bargaining session with Twilight and the police, I whipped up some disguises for us and got us on the first train out of there. We spent six months in a very small cabin in the middle of nowhere — the humidity utterly ruined my mane, I can tell you — and then we came home, put the paperwork through, and Cozy became my daughter and went into treatment on the same day. And the rest is, as they say, history.”

Celestia nodded thoughtfully. “And — if I may, Cozy Glow’s past? Before her initial attempt to drain Equestria’s magic?”

Rarity waved a hoof dismissively. “It’s all in the file I gave you, darling. I don’t like to dwell on it; it’s too distressing.”

“Her parents—” Celestia tried again.

“Abusive members of a quasi-religious unicorn cult,” Rarity spat, abruptly furious. “Scum so obsessed with magic that they took it out on a little child born a pegasus through no fault of her own and filled her with such hate that she felt driven to do terrible things.” She stopped herself, and shut her eyes to take a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Princess. I don’t like to speak of it, as I said.”

Celestia placed a hoof on Rarity’s shoulder; it was clearly time to let the matter drop. “I am sorry, Rarity. I did not mean to raise matters that should be left alone. I’m only seeking to get to know Cozy Glow a little more, so that I am better able to help her.”

Rarity produced a hanky from within a nearby basket of fabric scraps and blew daintily into it. “No, no — I shouldn’t let it upset me so.” She shook herself slightly, and returned abruptly to business. She turned again to Celestia’s dress and deftly undid the ribbons and pins holding it in place, until she could levitate the whole thing away from Celestia’s body. “I think this is a good beginning. I’ll work it up in the blue silk ready for your next fitting, and we can discuss any amendments then. Now, if there’s nothing else…?”

“Ah—” Celestia reached with her magic for her saddlebags. “There is one thing. I have bought a profile of the pony I have selected as Cozy’s first match.”

Rarity dropped the fabric at once and hurried to Celestia’s side, her eyes alight. “Ooh! Show me!”

Celestia suppressed a smile and levitated the single sheet of parchment out of her bag. Rarity seized it in her own magic and bought it close to her face, peering through her reading glasses to see it better, her eyes moving rapidly as she devoured the text.

“I have spoken to his parents and to the stallion in question, and they are all open to the young ponies meeting,” Celestia began. “And I think—”

Rarity had evidently reached the section entitled ‘Family Background’. Her jaw dropped open and she whirled to Celestia. “Prince Patrician? This is Prince Blueblood’s son!”

Celestia looked at her blankly. “Well, yes. They’re Canterlot nobles, but I thought that was what you and Cozy asked for — a close-knit family, wealth, ambition, prestige, the power to bring Cozy Glow into a wider social circle—” She tried to think of any possible objections. “Is it because he’s a Prince that you’re shocked? I thought you would be well accustomed to royalty — you’ve been friends with Twilight for so long. But you needn’t worry; Blueblood’s title is only honorary. He’s my great-great-great-grandson, you see.”

“No, no, darling, no!” Rarity’s voice was climbing higher. “Prince Blueblood and I — I was — let us say, romantically involved with him, a very long time ago, when I was younger than Cozy Glow is now.” She ran a hoof through a suddenly frazzled mane. “He was…not kind to me. I’m just not sure his son is the right sort of companion for my poor Cozy.”

Celestia thought hard, and remembered that very first Grand Galloping Gala that Twilight and her friends had attended, all those years ago. Perhaps she did recall seeing Blueblood and Rarity together. “I am sorry if there is any bad history between your families,” she paused to titter slightly, “any bad blood, if you’ll excuse the pun.”

Rarity frowned up at her.

“That is to say — I wasn’t aware,” Celestia amended hastily. “Of course, if you’re not happy with my selection, I will begin again. That’s the whole purpose of this exercise.”

Rarity’s frown deepened and she looked back at the paper she held. “No, no, I know your methods are sound, Princess. But — why have you only bought one match? I thought Cozy was meant to be given a selection.”

Celestia shuffled her wings and searched for a way to phrase it delicately. “Well, Rarity…you and Cozy Glow had rather a lot of requirements. Very stringent requirements. And the joining together of two ponies is a process that will involve compromise, and learning to shift one’s views. Creating a new family is no easy process. I expected that if I offered you and Cozy too much choice, it could lead to confusion, or encourage Cozy to take it less seriously, knowing that she has a great many options if one doesn’t pan out. I thought it best to offer her just one potential at a time.”

Rarity scowled, ever alert to signs of differential treatment or discrimination against her daughter. “And you do this for all your clients, do you, Princess?”

“If by ‘this’, you mean offer them a tailored and personalised service designed to meet their needs to the very best of my ability, then yes, of course,” Celestia answered primly. “If you decide that Prince Patrician is not somepony you would be interested in having Cozy Glow meet, all you need do is drop by my office and tell me, or leave word with Raven Inkwell.” She gathered up her saddlebags and raised her wings to settle them comfortably on her side. “It has been lovely to visit you, Rarity, but I really must be going now.”

Rarity barely looked up, so deeply engrossed in the profile was she. “Hmm? Yes, darling, goodbye,” she murmured vaguely, as Celestia let the door swing closed behind her.

Celestia trotted briskly down the paved street that led towards the Everfree Forest. It was still such a liberating experience to be going where she wanted when she pleased, without having to consult a schedule or book things in months in advance. Or taking a full complement of thirty guards with her.

The first few years, the Royal Guard had persisted in trying to protect her, until she pointed out that she was now a private citizen, and in addition, was more than capable of fighting off anything that could possibly attack her. The Captain had taken the matter to Twilight, who had pointed out that Celestia had been captured on a fairly regular basis while ruling Equestria. Celestia had been forced to remove the plaster once and for all, and break the news to Twilight that she could, in fact, have extricated herself from almost every one of those situations, but had refrained in order to give Twilight and her friends a chance to use the Elements and practise their world-saving skills. Twilight had been furious, and though they could laugh about it together now, she still bought it up every Hearthswarming after she had drunk a few ciders.

But regardless, Celestia was now free to do whatever she wanted. Ponies still stared and bowed but that was fine by her. It was wonderful to stop and talk to ponies who greeted her, rather than just sailing over their heads in a chariot, and she relished the opportunity to do so.

She was almost at the border of the forest when she heard the sound of galloping hooves behind her. She swung to look behind her, and was startled to see Lustre Dawn, of all ponies, pounding up the road.

“Lustre Dawn?” she called, and Lustre Dawn pulled alongside her at last, gasping, sweat running down her sides.

“Auntie Tia! I’m so glad I caught you. Mum didn’t tell me you were in town today until this afternoon, and I’ve been galloping all over the place looking for you.”

Celestia smiled with gentle merriment. “What is so urgent that it couldn’t wait until we were both back in Canterlot after the weekend? Is it about your date with Sparkling Wine?” If she remembered correctly, Lustre Dawn had been due to meet with him yesterday.

Lustre Dawn ran her hooves over her mane in an attempt to neaten it and used her magic to tighten her ponytail. “Stars, Auntie Tia, he was such a bore! He was only interested in food — roasted this, gourmet that.” Once she had begun, the words spilled out of her in an unstoppable torrent. “I had to listen to his stories about his tasting-holidays for three hours. If anything exists, anywhere, within half an hour Sparkling Wine will come thundering into town, put it on his sterling silver fork, toast and eat it, and then spend the next thirty years telling anypony and everypony he meets how divine it tasted, how delectable. Luna’s moon, I wanted to strangle him!”

“Language, Lustre, dear,” Celestia reprimanded her, doing a poor job of hiding her amusement.

Lustre Dawn shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Sorry, Auntie, but its true. He was dreadful.”

“Yes,” Celestia smiled, “I found conversation with him to be a little as you described. But he is a unicorn, and very magically strong, and that was what your family felt would be important. He attended my — Twilight’s school of magic shortly after you did.”

Lustre Dawn threw herself back onto her haunches and rolled her eyes so far back into her head that only the whites showed. “Well, honestly, Auntie — next time focus a little less on magic and a little more on personality.”

“I will try my best,” Celestia kept her voice light, trying to conceal her delight that her lesson had been as effective as ever her friendship lessons for Twilight had been. I’ve still got it. “But remember that this process is just that — a gradual process, a journey, to finding out what it is you need.” She drew her notebook out from her saddlebags and made a couple of quick annotations on the paper. “If you pass on to your family how your meeting with Sparkling Wine went, I will let him know that it won’t be repeated.”

“Alright,” Lustre Dawn got back to her hooves, clearly relieved to have unburdened herself and removed the possibility of having to meet with Sparkling Wine again. “What next? Is that it?”

Laughing a little at the hope in the young unicorn’s face, Celestia shook her head. “Sadly not, but I think I do have a clearer understanding now of what it is you want. I have somepony new in mind for you to meet — somepony with a lot more personality than magic.”

Chapter 6

Zap Apple spent the weekend at Sweet Apple Acres, as he frequently did. He was enjoying a lazy Saturday afternoon lounging in the sun on the porch of the main house when the ageing postal mare Derpy Hooves delivered a letter to him.

He stretched up to take it from her, and as she flew hastily away, he examined the envelope. The paper was thick and rich, sealed with a large red wax stamp bearing a sun; Princess Celestia’s cutie mark. He heaved a sigh. He hadn’t expected her to produce any results quite so soon. He inserted a primary feather under the flap of the envelope, rather like a letter-opening knife, and tore the paper. He drew out a sheet of heavy parchment.

Dear Zap Apple, it read, in a script so old-fashioned and flowing it could have come right out of a period novel, I believe I have found a good match for you. Thornstone is a stallion your own age, athletic and independent, not too fond of the company of other ponies, like yourself. Also like you, he is from an old farming family, the Pies. I believe your mothers know his parents Maud Pie and Mud Briar. He is solid and reliable, like your parents wished, but I found that his humour has quite an edge to it, which I think you may appreciate. His photograph and profile are enclosed. He will be visiting his aunt Pinkie Pie in Ponville on Saturday, and will meet you for a coffee in the town square. I hope you enjoy getting to know him. Please do let me know how it goes. Yours Sincerely, Auntie Tia (Princess Celestia, Ruler of the Day, Diarch of Equestria, Princeps Solaris, Sol Invictus, The Sun Eternal, etc, etc).

Zap Apple snorted and tossed the letter onto the floor beside him as he rooted in the envelope for the other bits of parchment. Auntie Tia’s inclusion of all her other titles seemed a little like overkill. For a ‘retired’ princess, she certainly liked to remind everypony of her previous status.

His questing hoof finally connected with the photograph and he drew it out. Thornstone was a stallion with a slate-grey coat and a glossy purple mane. A very small smile played at one corner of his mouth, and his blue eyes had something of a sardonic expression. A suggestion of the humour Princess Celestia’s letter had hinted at.

Zap Apple stared at the photo for a long time. Thornstone looked like a reasonable enough stallion…but that didn’t change the bizarre nature of looking at a photograph of a complete stranger and wondering if this would be the pony you would marry.

He skimmed over the profile. It was laconically short, every answer brief to the point of terseness. It said little that the Princess’ letter didn’t already cover. Zap Apple eventually let the parchment fall. He wouldn’t get anything more out of these scraps of paper. The only real way to find out was to meet Thornstone in person.

His heart thumped a little harder at the thought of that, and a sprinkle of sweat broke out across his forehead. What if the meeting somehow went all wrong? It was all well and good considering if he would reject Thornstone, but what if the earth pony got one look and rejected him? Zap Apple wasn’t sure he could take the pressure.

Zap Apple squirmed from haunch to haunch, the metal of the chair cold beneath him. He glanced again at the menu he held, took another apprehensive sip of the flavoured water in front of him, and looked anxiously at the identical glass and empty chair opposite him.

Thornstone was late.

The sun inched higher in the sky and Zap Apple continued to fidget and sweat nervously into the collar of the polo shirt he had put on especially for the date. He read the menu cover to cover at least six times, and sent the waiter away three times. He was just reaching the stage of wishing he had bought a book — he was not a pony who was big on reading, but even one of his mother’s ten-penny trash novels about Daring Do was better than this eternal waiting.

He cast another fearful look at the waiter, who was hovering near a different table, apparently taking their order. Zap Apple felt almost sure that they were all laughing at him. Just like always. Pathetic little Zap Apple, not quite an Apple, not quite a Dash, not quite filling the enormous horseshoes of either of his mothers. Not quite good enough for anything.

A crow cawed on the roof of the cafe and Zap Apple abruptly decided he could bear it no longer. He jumped to his hooves, the chair scraping harshly over the cobbles, and spread his wings, ready to take off.

“Are you Zap Apple?” A voice asked suddenly. It was flat and without intonation, and certainly without menace, but Zaps flinched and stumbled backwards anyway.

“What—?” At last, he took in the speaker. An iron-grey stallion, tall and skinny, with a steely purple mane cut straight across his forehead. He was wearing a long-sleeved purple jumper, but his cutie mark was just visible, peeking out from under its edge. A weedy little thornbush, growing out of cracked, barren soil. A strange cutie mark; Zap Apple wondered what talent it could represent.

“Are you Zap Apple?” the voice repeated, exactly the same as the first time, and Zap Apple realised he had been staring mutely at the stallion.

He blushed slightly. This date was already off to a horribly awkward start. He wanted nothing more than to flee, but he was in too deep. “Yes, I am,” he said hastily. “And you must be Thornstone.”

“I knew you were Zap Apple,” Thornstone replied flatly. “I recognised you from your photograph.” Thornstone seated himself, resting his wool-clad legs on the table, and Zap Apple reluctantly reclaimed his own seat and refolded his wings.

“R-right,” Zap Apple said cautiously, searching Thornstone’s face for any sign that the statement had been a joke. It didn’t appear that it had been. “Of course. I recognise you too.”

Thornstone nodded, as though there was simply nothing more to be said on the subject, and Zap Apple scooped up his menu again and ducked gratefully behind its scant shelter. He heard the rustle of card as Thornstone copied him.

The silence stretched on for long minutes, and Zap Apple felt that nervous sweat from before break out anew. The pause was becoming too long to cope with. He stumbled for something else to say. “So…uh — what do you think you’ll have?”

“Perhaps some plain rye bread,” Thornstone said, in that same toneless voice. “I am partial to its flavour, or lack thereof.”

“Great,” Zap Apple answered, forcing a smile and peering out from behind his menu. “I can’t decide what I should get. There’s so many great options here. My family grew the apples in the apple cobbler dessert, so you could always try that, after your rye bread.”

Thornstone looked at him, quite calmly. He didn’t speak.

A bead of sweat trickled down the back of Zap Apple’s neck.

“What do you think I should get?” He tried once more.

The answer was swift and merciless. “I recommend that you sample the plain rye bread.”

Zap Apple barked a laugh. That had to be the aforementioned ‘edge of wit’, right? But Thornstone’s only response was a very slight widening of the eyes, as though he couldn’t understand why Zap Apple would be so uncouth as to laugh.

The bead of sweat reached Zap Apple’s shoulderblades.

“Right,” he said again, closing the menu with a snap, laying it down on the table, and then immediately wishing he hadn’t surrendered his only shield. “I guess I’ll get the rye bread then. And maybe we can share the apple cobbler for pudding?”

Thornstone shrugged. “I suppose that would be fine.”

Zap Apple fished for more potential talking points. His mind was as blank as an Appleoosa sky on an August afternoon. Nothing at all. He gulped. What had Celestia’s letter said? A rock farm?

“Tell me about your parents’ farm,” he suggested. Ponies usually liked to talk about themselves, didn’t they? This should hopefully be an easy avenue to get Thornstone chatting.

“It’s a rock farm,” Thornstone said.

Zap Apple stared, aghast. Four words? Come on, he snarled internally. You have got to give me more to work with than that.

Thornstone eventually blinked and added another sentence. “My father added stick farming to our repertoire, as well. We have a couple of stick fields now.”

Zap Apple nodded, trying to put on his most interested expression. That was more than Thornstone had said in one go until now. This was good progress. “Do you mean…trees?” he asked, cautiously. “You farm sticks from trees?”

“No,” Thornstone said, and did not elaborate.

Zap Apple wanted to scream.

Finally, the clop of hooves on the cobbles announced the approach of the waiter. Zap Apple turned gratefully to meet him. Where before the waiter had been a terrifying scourge to be resisted and driven away, now he was an ally. A saviour.

“Are you folks ready to order?” The waiter asked, his voice like the singing of heavenly pegasi choirs.

“Yes!” Zap Apple gasped.

“And what can I get you both?”

“I’ll have a loaf of rye bread, unbuttered,” Thornstone said. “And a glass of plain water. This fruit-flavoured water is a little…much for me.”

“And you, sir?”

Zap Apple sighed. He was stuck with it now. “A loaf of rye bread for me as well. I’d like butter on mine though, please. Maybe some more raspberry water too.”

“It’ll be right out,” said the waiter, and turned to leave. Zap Apple wanted to beg him not to go. Not to leave him with this terrible, insurmountable task. Keeping this conversation going was like trying to scoop water with a fork. Or like trying to herd cats, as Applejack would say.

Zap Apple turned back to Thornstone’s merciless silence and unblinking gaze. “My family are farmers too,” he offered weakly. “We farm apples.”

There was a pause. Then Thornstone shook his head. “I don’t like fruit. It’s too frivolous for my taste.”

“Right.” Zap Apple wished he could stab himself with the butter knife and end all this. “Well, what do you like? Is that a…thornbush, on your cutie mark?”

“Yes, it is.”

By the Princesses, this was like rowing a rowboat up a cliff. “Right. And…what does that mean? What’s your special talent?”

“I can grow thornbushes."

Zap Apple suppressed a sigh. “Okay. So…do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Grow thornbushes on your farm?”

“Only a few at the moment. Mother thinks we should mostly stick to rocks. They’re our traditional crop.”

“It’s good to branch out though — my family has always farmed apples, but when my cousin’s wife arrived she bought some of her family’s orange seeds with her, so now we have a little orange orchard too.”

There was no response, and the silence yawned like a black hole before Zap Apple once more.

Then waiter reappeared, carrying two plates balanced carefully on his back. Zap Apple wanted to hug him, he was so grateful. He placed one in front of each of the stallions. Zap Apple looked with distaste at his plate of dry bread, the butter clumped unappealingly in the centre of the slice. He glanced across at the neighbouring table, where four mares were being served with huge slices of chocolate gateau, each one oozing with chocolate sauce and cream, and his stomach rumbled audibly.

Across the table from him, Thornstone picked up his rye bread in both hooves and began to take small, delicate bites. Like some sort of repellent chipmunk. He barely chewed his minuscule mouthfuls, and swallowed repeatedly. How could he even taste the food? Zap Apple took a bite of his own rye bread and nearly retched. By the stars! No wonder Thornstone wasn’t savouring the flavour. There was no flavour.

For one horrible moment, he pictured himself and Thornstone, both wearing tuxedos and standing before the ancient Mayor Mare. He imagined bringing Thornstone home to Sweet Apple Acres, or back to his little flat in Appleoosa. He imagined waking up to that blank, dead-eyed blue stare every morning, and he shuddered. A fate worse than death.

He looked up, and flinched — those same blue eyes, flat and lifeless as buttons, watching him unblinkingly. Zap Apple’s pulse thudded loud in his ears. Thornstone said something, but Zap Apple couldn’t make out what it was. Those flat white chipmunk teeth flashed behind the grey lips, and Zap Apple gasped. His mothers, the Princess — all of them trying to push him down the aisle with somepony, anypony — he wanted nothing more than to be away from them all, safe in Appleoosa, where there was nopony to expect anything of him, nothing to think of but the wind.

His breath hissed in his lungs, and he caught himself. His nerves were getting the better of him, and if he wasn’t careful he’d end up completely losing it. It had happened too often for him to miss the warning signs. But there was a way out — another option. He did have a choice. Abruptly, he stood up, and pulled out his wallet. He had promised to meet with Thornstone, not to spend hours with him. He put some bits down on the table, enough to cover both meals — if they could even be termed ‘meals' — and Thornstone’s face swam back into focus at last as he looked up from his nibbling.

“Is something wrong?”

“Sorry, Thornstone, I just remembered—” Zap Apple fished for an excuse. “—Uh, its the last day of apple-bucking season. I really have to go home and help. So sorry to go when you just got here. But I, uh, I really gotta dash.”

Thornstone appeared unfazed. “Shall we reschedule?”

Zap Apple’s ears flattened. “Uhm, no, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Apple-bucking is going to keep me pretty busy for a while. And then theres the sorting, and the pickling, and the pressing, and…” He waved a hoof in a vaguely circular motion, trying to suggest the endless tasks associated with an apple orchard. Never mind that he didn’t actually do any of the farm work, and most of his time was spent whipping up whirlwinds in the deserts outside Appleoosa. Thornstone didn’t need to know that.

He straightened. “Right — well, bye. It was great to meet you.” And with that one last lie, he was trotting, then cantering, then flapping hastily away from that dreadful cafe, relief washing over him like a cool shower on a hot day.

As he set his course for home, he was already composing a very terse letter to Princess Celestia in his head.

Chapter 7

Cozy Glow allowed Prince Patrician to pull her chair out for her; it was an old-fashioned courtesy, left over from the days when stallions were truly subservient in society. She disliked such archaicness, but Mama had warned her that many of the older noble unicorn families still insisted on the old customs.

The first part of the date had not been…stellar. She had invited him to join her at the chess club. She had beaten him in less than eight moves, without even concentrating, and he had declared chess a dull game, and insisted that they go to his tennis club instead. She beat him at that, as well. He had a good serve, but no tactical sense. It was just the same as with everypony else; it was hard to always be the smartest pony in the room.

But Mama had insisted that she see this meeting out to the end of the day, and Cozy Glow had given her word. She never really made promises to anyone but Rarity, but on those rare occasions that she did, she took them seriously. She had no intention of breaking this one. No matter how many endless stories about Patrician’s highjinks at boarding school she had to sit through.

The starters were dominated by a tale of how Patrician had hated the matron in his first year dormitory. Halfway through the main course, and a story about how Patrician had ‘fagged’ a younger colt at the school — she hadn’t even wanted to know what that meant, but currently it seemed to consist chiefly of forcing the colt to clean his private study and make him toast — the restaurant door swung open and a flash of gold mane caught Cozy’s eye.

She glanced over and away, and then looked back sharply. Was that — Lustre Dawn? Princess Twilight Sparkle’s own personal student. Yes, that was definitely her.

Growing up, Rarity had been careful to keep Cozy isolated from what she thought would be ‘challenging’ situations. And that included gatherings with Twilight Sparkle and her extended family. Cozy Glow knew Fluttershy well — and, regrettably, that tiresome donkey-headed freak that followed her everywhere. Applejack and Rainbow Dash had also been frequent figures in her early years with Rarity, until she had made their bratty little son cry once too often. She saw them less after that.

But Princess Twilight Sparkle and Lustre Dawn had always been kept at a cautious distance from her. And no wonder. In those first few years, when she had still struggled with her blind rage against that insipid purple alicorn, she had fully expected that she would one day kill Twilight Sparkle, and then the pathetic little golden-maned lump would come after her. They were nemeses-to-be, she had thought. She had long since given up on that particular path, of course, but Lustre Dawn remained a figure of interest for her.

The unicorn mare was followed by an earth pony, yellow-coated and with a bouncy pink mane. Both mares were wearing pretty gowns — Lustre Dawn’s was made by Rarity herself, unless Cozy was very much mistaken — and both of them had clearly put a lot of effort into their appearances.

Cozy Glow watched as they were led to a table. The two of them were all nervous smiles and shy blushes; this was obviously another first date. Cozy Glow scowled. Auntie Tia, or whatever she preferred to be called, had strongly recommended this restaurant. Was she sending other possible matches here too?

For the first time, Cozy Glow felt a little…cheapened, by what she was doing. Prince Patrician was a dimwit, that much was clear, but she had really believed that Princess Celestia was trying to meet her requests. But if the Princess were sending other couples on identical dates — if Cozy was just one of many — was the Princess even really invested in her case at all?

“And so I said to him: Star Gallop, you little maggot, you need to be faster with my evening toast. And it must be buttered! And then Lancerlight and I threatened to beat the lesson into him. And Star Gallop, bless him, always buttered my toast correctly after that—” Prince Patrician was gesticulating wildly as he told his story, sounding as though he was certain Cozy Glow was as riveted as he obviously was.

Cozy Glow tried very hard not to roll her eyes. Mama emphasised decorum and politeness, and Cozy Glow was determined not to let her down. Surely she could get through another hour or two of this. She smiled and nodded, and let her attention drift back to the table in the corner where Lustre Dawn and the unknown earth pony mare were haltingly trying to make conversation.

“So have you always lived in Ponyville?” Lustre Dawn asked eagerly, leaning forward across the table to better hear Little Cheese’s answer over the hubbub of the restaurant.

Little Cheese giggled. “Don’t be silly! You know I have. We played together often enough when we were foals.”

Lustre Dawn blushed a little. She did remember playdates with Little Cheese, in those hazy days before she got her cutie mark and went to live with Princess Twilight at the School of Magic. But they were so fuzzy in her memory, it was almost like meeting Little Cheese for the first time. Their parents were friends, but they had not met for almost fifteen years.

“We did go travelling every summer, though,” Little Cheese smiled, toying with a curl of her pink mane. “My mum always fancied herself a bit of a wandering minstrel, and she and my dad have always loved just rambling across Equestria and throwing parties for all the sad ponies they came across. So I guess I haven’t always lived in Ponyville.”

Lustre Dawn tried to lean forward again to show her interest, but just got a dig in the barrel from the table for her troubles. She tried not to wince, and kept her smile in place. “That sounds amazing! Did you help, with the parties?”

“Of course!” Little Cheese smiled. “Though if I’m being honest, I’ve always preferred the baking side. My parents both love to be centre stage, but I like working in the bakery with Pound and Pumpkin.” She fiddled with that little curl of her mane again.

“Yes!” Lustre pounced on the detail. “I remember your profile said you were doing an apprenticeship with the Cakes, right?”

Little Cheese smiled. “Yes! I want to open up my own cheesecake shops eventually. Maybe in one of the big cities.”

“Wow,” Lustre Dawn smiled, unable to take her eyes off this charming, strangely bashful pony. She would never have expected brash Aunt Pinkie’s daughter to be like this. “I bet everypony in Canterlot would love a cheesecake bakery.” Too late, she realised she was picturing Little Cheese in her own home city, and blushed a brighter red.

Little Cheese obviously noticed too, and her pale yellow cheeks took on a pink hue. “I was thinking I’d call it Little Cheese’s Little Cheesecakes,” she confided.

Lustre Dawn clapped her hooves together. “What a great name!”

She wasn’t sure quite what it was about Little Cheese — maybe it was her stunning green eyes, her gorgeous smile, or maybe just the way she’d immediately known to make a silly little joke that would get Lustre laughing and break the ice — but she couldn’t remember ever being so into a first date before. She’d met with several of Auntie Tia’s unicorn matches now, and all of them had been…terribly dull, somehow. None of them had clicked with her like this earth pony, whom on paper she had nothing in common with.

But somehow the conversation hadn’t stopped flowing all evening, and Lustre Dawn was still eager to learn all she could about her new companion.

The hostess brought over their hay fries starters, and set out bottles of ketchup and vinegar on the table, along with the salt and pepper shakers. The hay fries were lightly dusted with oregano and paprika, and Lustre Dawn’s mouth began to water just at the smell of them.

“Can I assist you with any condiments?” the hostess asked them, her voice rich and plummy with a Canterlot accent. Her horn glowed at the ready. “Our artisanal sun-dried tomato and pressed beetroot ketchup, perhaps?”

“No!” Lustre Dawn and Little Cheese both cried at the same time, putting their hooves out protectively over the fries, and then they swung to one another in disbelief.

“What did you—?”

“Did you just say—?”

“I hate ketchup on my hay fries!” Little Cheese said, beaming.

“Me too!” Lustre Dawn replied. “Everypony always acts like it’s some great heresy, like I’ve just said I wish I could blot out the sun or something. But I just don’t like ketchup!”

“I don’t either!” Little Cheese cried. “I see people putting ketchup on their fries, and I’m like, nope! You just ruined them!”

“I completely agree!” Lustre Dawn laughed, and Little Cheese began to giggle too. It was the smallest coincidence, but Lustre Dawn somehow felt like they were both in on some great secret, united against the rest of the ketchup-loving world.

They both snickered into their hay fries until the hostess — and her artisanal ketchup — swept away in cold fury, and then they burst out laughing even harder.

“Let’s dig in,” Little Cheese suggested, when their last chuckles finally subsided. “We don’t want these beauties getting cold.”

“Absolutely not!” Lustre Dawn agreed, levitating her fork upwards before thinking better of it and preparing to use her hooves as Little Cheese clearly was. “And Little Cheese?”

“Hmm?” Little Cheese looked up, a hoof-full of hay fries suspended just below her muzzle.

“I’d love to try some of your cheesecake someday.”

Cozy Glow was still trying to subtly observe the date between Twilight Sparkle’s daughter and the unknown earth pony when Patrician’s indeterminably long story about his days at private school ended, and he finally said something that caught her attention.

“My family weren’t sure about me meeting you tonight, of course,” he said, as though the previous topic of conversation had naturally led to this.

Cozy Glow turned back to him, a polite smile painted across her muzzle. “Oh?”

“And I have to say,” he chortled, “I wasn’t entirely confident about it either.”

Cozy rested her chin on one hoof and smiled again, inviting him to continue. She couldn’t wait to see where this was going.

“All that unpleasant buzz around your name,” he said, waving a hoof. “Lots of rumours. Lots of stories. But Father insisted that I meet with you. He knows your mother, and Princess Twilight, of course. Old friends of his.”

“Such old friends,” Cozy echoed in bland agreement. Now the real reasons were coming out. Here was the generous, the forgiving nature of Canterlot nobility. As shallow as puddles, all of them. Motivated only by greed and her mother’s fame.

“But I am glad, most glad, that it all turned out to be baseless,” Patrician rattled on. “You have a most amenable personality, Cozy Glow, and I would be glad to see you again. Even despite…” he gestured uncomfortably, his nose wrinkling a little, “Your — ahem — past, and, of course, that other matter.” He gestured vaguely in her direction.

“The other matter?” Cozy Glow asked, in what Mama referred to as her ‘dangerous’ voice.

Patrician chuckled uneasily. “Well — you know, you’re a pegasus, Cozy Glow.”

Cozy Glow froze. One ear twitched. The muscles beneath her eyes tightened imperceptibly.

“But Princess Celestia reassured us that your family was of good unicorn stock, good magical talent—”

Cozy Glow’s eyes narrowed a fraction. Good magical stock. Unicorns.

“And we can be confident that any foals are most likely to be unicorns—”

Cozy’s remaining thread of patience snapped. Her face became cold. This was too much. Not even Mama’s wet blanket of a friend Aunt Fluttershy would turn the other cheek to this. This…this imbecile held the same abhorrent purist views as her birth— no, they weren’t fit to be called a birth family.

Patrician, oblivious, was still rambling on. “So I suppose there’s really no reason for concern — and of course, you’ll bring a good dower with you — our Whinneapolis estate will certainly put it to good use, I can tell you—”

“Shut up,” Cozy Glow said, quite calmly. Her voice was no louder than her usual conversational tone.

That got Patrician’s attention. “There are several unfortunate entailments on the manor— what was that?”

“I said,” Cozy smiled pleasantly, “Shut up, Prince Patrician.”

Patrician’s heavy brows pulled down, and he began to bluster. “Now, hold on — just who do you think you are, to tell me—”

Cozy Glow didn’t let him finish whatever self-righteous speech he was building up to now. She raised a hoof. “Prince Patrician. Let me stop you right there.” She smiled, a little wider, showing all her gleaming white teeth. “I have been an alicorn. I’ve known real power. I could open portals with a flick of my horn; my shield was strong enough to hold off three princesses at once. I’ve drained their magic from their screaming bodies, and felt it flood into me.”

She leaned forward, and he leaned away, sweat suddenly forming on his forehead, but her hoof slammed down onto his, holding him firmly in place. She leant closer, her voice dropping lower, a whisper as intimate as a lover’s. “I’ve absorbed all the chaos magic in the universe, Prince Patrician. I’ve stood twenty storeys tall. Storms came at my command. The world shook when I willed it.”

His eyes were pinpricks of terror, and he looked rapidly from left to right, searching for an escape route. She could tell he was close to shouting for help — only the remnants of his pride were holding him back.

“And you call me substandard?” she hissed, building to her grand finale. She spread her wings a little, a subtle threat display. “You call me not good enough? The only failure here, Prince Patrician — the only failure here is you.”

At last, she released his hoof and he stumbled backwards, away from her. His chair clattered noisily onto the floor. Cozy Glow kept her features very still, in that small smirk that could mask any emotion, no matter what storm swirled behind her eyes.

“You — you’re crazy!” Patrician gasped. “You aren’t reformed at all!”

Cozy Glow giggled, and just as she knew he would, he flinched at the sound.

“Don’t — don’t ever contact me again!” He was backing away now, but not yet running. His eyes were moving rapidly, his jaw working.

Cozy Glow scoffed to herself. Was he searching for some sort of exit line? Trying to get the last word in? Pathetic.

At last, he seemed to find his tongue again. “You— you’ll be hearing from my father’s lawyer!”

At that, Cozy couldn’t contain herself any longer, and dissolved into peals of laughter. It was enough to break Patrician, and he turned and fled. The restaurant door slammed shut behind him, and the noise of his galloping hooves faded quickly into the night. Cozy couldn’t stop laughing. She hammered her hoof against the table and laughed until tears ran from her eyes. By the Princesses! What an idiot that stallion was.

Prince Blueblood’s lawyer, indeed. Prince Blueblood, like half the nobles in Canterlot, used the best lawyer money could buy. And the best lawyer money could buy just so happened to be the little pegasus mare that Patrician had run screaming into the night from.

Chapter 8

The new week brought with it a new letter from the Princess.

Dear Zap Apple, it began, identical to the first, I was sorry to hear from you that you didn’t feel Thornstone was a good match. However, only through experience can we learn, and I congratulate you on learning the first lesson of this process — the sort of partner you don’t want.

I have another potential match to offer you. Dust Devil is a pegasus mare, currently a senior member of the wonderbolts. She is a little older than you, but has enough energy and drive to run rings around most ponies. She shares the key interest you mentioned in your last letter (flight and excelling in that field) and after meeting with her several times over the course of the last few months, I can assure you that she is not boring. She has agreed to meet with you at Wonderbolts HQ any morning that suits you. Once again, I look forward to hearing how your meeting goes. Yours Sincerely, Auntie Tia (Princess Celestia, Ruler of the Day, Diarch of Equestria, Princeps Solaris, Sol Invictus, The Sun Eternal, etc).

The photo enclosed this time caught his attention. It showed a lithe, lean pegasus mare, small but covered with wiry muscles, and with a wingspan far too large for her diminutive frame. She must be a powerful flier. Her cutie mark was a yellow arc of light. Her amber eyes, the same shade as her mane, were narrowed, and a sardonic grin spread across her muzzle. She looked confident, tough — all those things Zaps had always wanted to be, but felt that he somehow fell a little short of. The look on her face seemed as though she were somehow setting him a challenge, and he couldn’t help wanting to meet it.

The next day at breakfast, he tried to casually drop it into conversation with his parents. “I’ll join you on the flight to Wonderbolts HQ today, Mum.”

Rainbow’s ears flicked bolt upright. “Wait, really, kiddo? Why? You want another tryout for the Bolts?”

Zap Apple waved a hoof. “Ugh, Mum, no. How many times? I’m meeting somepony there, that’s all.”

Applejack and Rainbow Dash shared a look, their expressions alight with interest. “Really?” Applejack asked, attempting to strike a casual note. “Anypony in particular?”

Zap Apple sighed. He was going to have to tell them. “One of Auntie Tia’s potential matches.”

Applejack gasped audibly and Rainbow drummed her hooves on the table with excitement. “She’s setting you up with a Wonderbolt? That’s awesome news!”

“Ah thought we all agreed that an earth pony would be best,” Applejack objected.

“Mum!” Zap Apple groaned. “Please don’t be so…so racist. I’m interested in the ponies, not in whether they have wings or not.” Though he couldn’t deny that Dust Devil’s creamy white wings held a certain…allure.

“Never mind that!” Rainbow Dash clopped her hooves together. “Tell us who it is!”

“Dust Devil,” Zap Apple said reluctantly, hoping against hope that his mother wouldn’t know the wiry little amber mare.

Rainbow Dash chewed on her lip. “Dust Devil? Isn’t she the one who…? She’s…she’s Lightning Dust’s daughter.”

Zap Apple spread his hooves. The name was familiar to him, but he didn’t immediately recognise it. “So what?”

Rainbow Dash harrumphed and Applejack hastily patted her shoulder. “Lightnin’ Dust is your momma’s nemesis, Zaps. They’re arch-rivals — pretty much the one pony Twilight could never convince Rainbow to make proper friends with.”

Zap Apple sighed and put his head in his hooves. “Mum, come on. Don’t make this into a problem. I actually really like the look of Dust Devil. She can’t help who her mother is.”

Not any more than he could help who his own were.

Applejack shot Rainbow Dash a look, and Rainbow nodded hastily. “Of course, kiddo. Of course. I was just — it was an overreaction. You can date whoever you like. Even…even if it is Lightning Dust’s kid.”

“I think I’ll fly up to Wonderbolts HQ alone,” Zap Apple decided, pushing his chair back. He didn’t want to risk dragging any of his weird family drama into his first meeting with Dust Devil.

Rainbow reached out a wing to stop him. “Oh — but I wanted—”

“Sorry, Mum.” He was already halfway out the door. “But I don’t want to listen to an hour’s retelling of your brilliant duels against Lightning Dust.”

Rainbow’s eyes grew slightly bigger with hurt, but Applejack put a restraining hoof around her shoulders. “Best to let him go, Shug. Got to let him do this on his own.”

“Let’s go!”

As she yelled the word, Zap Apple leapt straight up, his powerful hind legs propelling him into the air. He glanced over and saw Dust Devil spread the great feathery sails of her wings, catch the wind, and thrust herself higher and higher.

Panting and grinning all at once, he hurtled after her.

He could feel the air currents spiralling skywards, and it was a matter of instinct to pick out the right threads and chase them upwards. But Dust Devil was still ahead of him, grinning down at him, her nearly alicorn-sized wings bearing her up with every sweep.

Zap Apple felt the blood coursing through his veins, and the wind sang against his fur. He didn’t feel afraid anymore. In the sky, nothing could stop him. It was his kingdom, the place where he was master of everything his wings could touch. He could leave all the hurt and worry on the ground, and once he was up, it was just him and the air. And now Dust Devil, too. An addition that he definitely did not mind.

They circled up and up, chasing each other all the way, and then collapsed panting onto a cloud.

“I can see why you’re a Wonderbolt,” Zap Apple laughed, the contest banishing any remnants of nerves that he felt. “You’re fast!”

“And I can see why Captain Dash is always bragging about her wunderkind son,” chuckled Dust Devil. “Theres not many civvies who could keep up with me. Hell, you could almost be a Wonderbolt if you wanted to be.”

Zap Apple laughed again and waved the flattery off. “If I had an apple for every time my Mum said that to me.” He rolled onto his front and looked into Dust Devil’s eyes, trying to steer the conversation away from his mother. “But let’s talk about us. Tell me about your favourite things to do.”

Dust Devil giggled and kicked her hooves in the air. “Flying, obviously.”

“Your favourite manoeuvre, then.” Zap Apple was entranced. She was the most beautiful pegasus he had ever met.

“I actually have my own,” she confided, sitting up and shooting him a sly smile. “I call it the Arch of Glory.” She flicked her head at her cutie mark. “Wanna see it for real?”

Zap Apple leaned closer, so close his many-hued mane almost mixed with her own butter and lemon locks. “More than anything.”

Dust Devil snickered and jumped to her hooves. She kicked off from the cloud and abruptly dropped out of sight. Zap Apple surged to his feet and craned his neck to try and trace her flight path.

Then she was whooshing past him, a blur of amber and cream, curving around the cloud in a vast circle, building up her speed. He could just detect a trace of a yellow contrail, and then it was streaming out of her, and she soared overhead, perfectly recreating the golden arch of sunlight that graced her flank. Zap Apple whooped and stomped his hooves in applause, realising too late that would destroy parts of the cloud he sat on.

Dust Devil laughed at his predicament as she swept around him once more, letting the Arch of Glory fade out. She backwinged and gracefully alighted beside him on the considerably smaller cloud. “What about you?” she challenged. “What’ve you got?”

Zap Apple gestured at his cutie mark, the red and orange whirlwind. “I can make real dust devils, baby.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he blushed and paused. It wasn’t like him to be so…so smooth. He sounded like a new version of himself. A better and more confident version. Then indecision seized him. What if it hadn’t been the right thing to say?

But Dust Devil was laughing, and Zap Apple was laughing too, heady with exhilaration and relief.

“Go on, then!” she demanded. “Show me.”

And before Zap Apple knew what he was doing, he was diving off the cloud, and circling her, tighter and tighter, faster and faster, his wings thrumming like a hummingbird, his body crackling with the electric power only he could summon. And then the cloud was torn away in his tornado, ripped into little wispy shreds, and Dust Devil was laughing and clapping her hooves, and then she was flying with him, circling round, tighter and tighter, those great wings of hers adding even more power to his whirlwind, until they were both thrown out of it and fell away, laughing, to watch it spin upwards and dissipate in the clouds above.

Feeling happier than he could ever remember, Zap Apple followed Dust Devil as she glided smoothly back to the clifftop landing strip. His face ached from smiling so much. Who would have believed that one little coffee date could result in seven hours with somepony, each feeling better than the one before?

Dust Devil landed as gently as a feather, and folded her glorious creamy wings carefully against her side. Then she flicked her head, inviting him to walk with her, and Zap Apple hastily landed and trotted after her.

“I’m a big believer in being honest, Zap Apple,” she said suddenly, and Zap Apple’s heart stuttered.

“Oh?” he said, as casually as he could.

“Yes,” she nodded firmly, that determined glint he already felt he knew so well appearing in her eyes. “I’ve met with enough of Auntie Tia’s potential matches now to know what I like and what I don’t like — and I like you, Zap Apple.”

Zap Apple sucked in a breath, his wings spreading in unconscious elation. “Really? I like you too, Dust Devil! I really like you.” Being with her was effortless, like riding a thermal up and up and far away from the terrors of the world below. His date with her had gone as differently from his date with Thornstone as could be imagined.

Dust Devil chuckled. “That’s great!”

Zap Apple wished she would stop walking for a moment, so he could just stare into her amber eyes and bask in this moment. The moment he had finally found his special somepony. Who would have guessed that Applejack had been right? That finding a partner could add so much to your life, that—

“But we’ve gotta talk serious for a minute,” Dust Devil went on, and Zap Apple abruptly came crashing back to earth.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that most ponies who go to Auntie Tia — they want the same sort of stuff. But I need to know for certain that we’re on the same page before we take this any further. I’m a few years older than you, and I know what I want. I want to get married, soon, and I want to have foals soon too.”

Zap Apple felt the euphoria sucking away from him. Cold reality was hitting, stinging like a blast of winter air. “Uh…how soon?”

Her answer was immediate and brutal. “Within the next two years, so that I can be back on top form for the next Equestrian Games.”

Zap Apple clutched for a moment longer at the heady joy of the afternoon they had spent together. “Don’t you, uh, think it’s a little soon to be discussing that sort of thing?”

Dust Devil stopped walking at last and turned abruptly to face him. “No, I don’t. And I’ll tell you why — I’m attracted to you, and I like your personality, but I haven’t got time to waste, Zap Apple.” That spark of challenge was back in her eyes. “I’m getting older and I need to move quickly if I want foals of my own, but I’m not giving up my career. I know what I want and I need it soon. Auntie Tia’s running a marriage service. What did you think you were signing up for?”

Zap Apple stuttered, still feeling like the clouds had suddenly parted beneath his feet and left him tumbling down into unknown depths. “I— uh — I don’t know, I—” He had thought he was signing up to do only what his mothers had asked of him; to meet a few ponies and see if anyone clicked. And somepony had, but now she was demanding the impossible. How was he meant to know if he wanted to marry somepony and raise foals with them within the first seven hours of knowing them?

Dust Devil, for her part, looked bitterly disappointed. “I see. I’d hoped we’d be on the same page about this.”

“But I—” But Zap Apple couldn’t think how to finish the sentence.

Dust Devil gave him a few seconds, and then began again. “I’ll give you a few days, Zap Apple. Reach out to Auntie Tia if you decide you want to see me again.”

“But I do want to see you again!” He was sure of that much at least.

Dust Devil shook her head, her beautiful white wings, so soft and downy, shifting back and away from him. Oh, how he longed to be wrapped in those wings! Zap Apple put out a hoof to pull her back, but she skipped neatly beyond his reach.

“You’re too uncertain, Zap Apple. Too young. I can’t afford to waste my time on somepony who isn’t sure they want the same things as me. I just can’t.”

And in a whirl of creamy-white feathers and sweet-smelling plumage, she was gone, and Zap Apple was left alone on the landing strip, feeling strangely bereft.

Chapter 9

Celestia sat in her large, plush armchair, flipping idly through pony profiles and sipping her cup of tea. She was using the unusually hot summer morning to refresh her memory of as many of her clients’ files as she could. Often the best way to match a potential couple was to have one specific pony in mind, and just think about who from her client list might suit. But for that method to work she needed an in-depth and up to date knowledge of everypony on her books.

Raven Inkwell sat in the chair opposite, various calendars and diaries sprawling across the coffee table in front of her. She had spent the past few hours catching up on ascertaining that all Celestia’s commitments were itemised and correctly accounted for. They had passed a few easy hours in companionable silence. It came naturally to them now, after so many decades working together.

There were no appointments scheduled that day, and though Celestia had told Raven Inkwell they would both use the slow day to catch up on paperwork, in reality she had planned to surprise Raven with a spur of the moment trip to the ice cream stand in the park. Raven Inkwell worked so hard; she deserved a little relaxation.

She looked over at Raven again. Her brow was furrowed with concentration, her eyes a little more clouded than they had been once, but the expression still sharp and clear.

Perhaps another ten minutes, Celestia mused. Then I’ll propose we go on a little jaunt.

She stretched her wings slightly and refolded them more comfortably. A bird sang somewhere in the street outside.

All was tranquil and peaceful.

Then the door flew open hard enough that it ricocheted into the wall with a bang! It left a dent in the plaster when it bounced away again, ready to slam shut — or almost, until a blue glow of magic caught it and forced it open once more.

Raven Inkwell yelped in surprise and dropped her teacup. Celestia hastily ignited her horn, and was able to envelop both the cup and the drops of scalding liquid before they could make contact with poor Raven’s skin.

She carefully replaced the tea in the cup and deposited it on the table, before turning to see who was storming into her peaceful little office in such a manner.

She was startled to see Rarity, of all ponies, her pupils little black dots of fury, her mane frazzled and straying in every direction. Celestia started up out of her seat involuntarily — what manner of crisis could have bought this on? Her mind raced. Was it Luna? Or Twilight? Had Twilight somehow been incapacitated? She spread her wings and began to reach for the fiery power of her strongest spells. She would burn the fool incautious enough to attack her personal student—

“How dare you?” Rarity’s shriek stopped Celestia’s thoughts in their tracks, and she cautiously let her magic dissipate. Not an attack, then. Something she personally had done to offend Rarity. But what could it be?

“Rarity, whatever is the matter?” she asked, trying for a soothing tone, and hastily gesturing to Raven Inkwell to evacuate the office. Raven snatched up the files and diaries they had been poring over and hastened out of the room.

Rarity advanced on Celestia, her eyes ablaze. “How can you even ask that, Princess?”

Celestia spread her hooves. “Truly, I don’t understand.”

Then she caught a glimpse of that odious little pink psychopath, lurking behind her mother, and it began to make sense.

Rarity’s teeth were exposed in an expression somewhere between a grimace and a snarl. “Exposing Cozy Glow to bigots like this is simply not acceptable.”

“Bigots? What do you mean?” Clearly the planned date with Prince Patrician had not gone well. Celestia couldn’t think why — the boy was everything they had asked for. Intelligent, magically gifted, wealthy and ambitious. What had gone wrong?

“That — that — imbecile,” Rarity stuttered for a moment over what insult was worthy of scum as low as Patrician was, “That moronic little idiot — he told my beautiful Cozy that she wasn’t good enough because she is a pegasus.”

Celestia grasped the situation at once. “Ah.”

“Ah!” Rarity’s voice climbed. “Yes, you may well say ‘ah’, Celestia! How dare you expose my Cozy to somepony who would make her feel that way! When you know her history! When you know what she has suffered!”

“Rarity, Cozy Glow, please,” Celestia tried to placate them once more. “Why don’t we discuss this calmly? I can call Raven to get us some more tea.”

Rarity slammed her front hooves down onto the coffee table. Celestia winced at the impact. What that would do to her priceless eight-hundred-year-old mahogany, she dreaded to think.

“I do not want tea! I want what you promised us! The chance for Cozy Glow to meet kind, generous, empathetic ponies who might understand her!” Rarity paused, her flanks heaving with emotion. “It certainly seems as though you do not understand.”

“Rarity, please,” Celestia said more firmly. “I had no idea that Blueblood or Patrician held those sort of views. They did ask a few questions about Cozy Glow’s background, and I told them that she was a unicorn-born pegasus, as it seemed harmless enough information to share. I certainly did not intend to expose Cozy Glow to bigotry of any form or fashion.”

Rarity’s breath was still coming hard, but she appeared a little mollified. Celestia pressed on. “I can assure you both that it will not happen again. Now, let me ring for tea.”

“No,” Rarity snapped. “We’re not staying. Cozy has had a traumatic experience, and we are getting out of Canterlot’s oppressive atmosphere for a few days.”

“Of course,” Celestia murmured, letting her hoof fall back from the bell pull. “I hope you both feel better.” She shot a quick glance at Cozy Glow, who still skulked behind Rarity. That little smirk on her face certainly didn’t appear traumatised.

Rarity turned to go, ushering Cozy Glow ahead of her, but turned back to shoot one last look at Celestia. “My daughter’s life has been hard, Princess Celestia. I’m not sure anypony understands just how hard. If anyone deserves the best, its Cozy Glow.” Her eyes glinted. “Now, I’m relying on you, Auntie Tia, darling. Don’t let us down.”

Celestia could do little more than dip her head in assent, and then Rarity was gone in a flounce of purple tail and a slamming door. Celestia let out her breath. She pulled Cozy Glow’s file back up from the floor where it had fallen and made one more note in the margin.

Triple-check any potential matches for anti-pegasus sentiment.

Chapter 11

Zap Apple spent a few bitter days mulling over his most recent letter from Princess Celestia, which gently informed him that Dust Devil didn’t feel confident enough in his intentions to meet with him again.

Getting through the seemingly endless workdays was tough; he didn’t fly as strongly as he usually did, and his team noticed. They gave him a little stick about having to pick up his slack, but they didn’t ride him too hard, and they certainly didn’t offer any comfort. It wasn’t until he went home at the weekend that he could break down and tell his mothers what had happened.

Applejack’s first instinct was to hug and soothe her poor boy, which Zap Apple tearfully accepted. But Rainbow Dash’s reaction was less comforting; she leapt to her hooves and swore she would kick Dust Devil off the Wonderbolts once and for all.

“I don’t give a buck how strong a flier she is,” she raged. “Nopony treats my kid like this!”

“Sit down, Sugarcube,” Applejack said, over the top of Zap Apple’s head. “Stormin’ in blazin’ mad ain’t gonna help poor Zaps none, is it?”

“No,” Zaps added mournfully. “It’ll just humiliate me even more — and prove her right that I’m immature and have to rely on my parents to come get me out of trouble.”

Rainbow Dash deflated, her wings wilting down from their upright position. “Oh. I guess you’re right.”

“But there is another option, Shug,” Applejack said softly.

Zap Apple perked up and pricked his ears. “What?”

“Have ya considered thinkin’ about whether ya might be open to what she wants?” Applejack said carefully.

Zap Apple flicked his ears. “What do you mean, Mum?”

“Ah mean — why not give some serious thought as to whether you’d be open to marriage and foals in the next couple a’ years?”

Zap Apple sighed. He knew that was the future his mum wanted for him. But he had no idea whether that was the future he wanted for himself. He tried to imagine what he would be like as a father, what his and Dust Devil’s foals might look like, and he drew a total blank. He’d barely ever been in a serious relationship before. How could he predict what his marriage would be like?

A knock at the door interrupted them, and Rainbow darted to answer it. It was Big Mac, their post in his mouth. “Thanks, Mac,” Rainbow said distractedly, taking them from him. “See you at dinner, yeah? We’re kinda in the middle of something here.”

“Ayup,” agreed Big Mac in his usual laconic fashion, and turned to plod away, the same stolid pace he always went at.

Zap Apple watched Rainbow Dash shuffle idly through the mail, and then freeze as she reached one of the letters. “Hey,” she said suddenly, her tone becoming more urgent. “It’s another one from Princess Celestia.”

Zap Apple jumped up at once from where he had been lying in Applejack’s comforting embrace, a detritus of tissues and handkerchiefs falling away from him as he went. He sprang towards the letter, gliding up and over the kitchen table, and snatched the envelope in his mouth.

“D’ya think Dust Devil has changed her mind?” Applejack asked eagerly.

“Pfft, she wouldn’t know a good thing if it bit her on the ass,” Rainbow snorted.

Zap Apple tore the letter open with his teeth, and pulled it out eagerly. To his surprise, a new photo fell out. A beige-coated kirin with a seaweed-coloured mane smiled up at him. Her teeth were very sharp. Frowning, he scooped the photo up and set it on the table. Could Princess Celestia be sending him another match already?

He unfolded the letter and scanned it quickly.

Dear Zap Apple,
After some serious thought on your needs following your date with Dust Devil, I have decided that Leaftail might be a suitable match for you. Leaftail is very new to this process as well, and like you, isn’t quite sure what she wants to get out of it. Like yourself, Leaftail is a very adventurous young kirin. She is an outdoor adventure guide; she leads groups of ponies on rock climbing trips, as well as caving and spelunking. In the process of getting to know her, I went on one of her spelunking expeditions myself. It was a real challenge, I can tell you! If you are keen to meet her, I will ask her if you can join her on a private adventure. I will await your reply by return of post.
Kind regards,
Your Auntie Tia
(Princess Celestia, Ruler of the Day…oh, you know the rest by now).

As he read, both of his parents came to flank him, reading carefully over his shoulder. Applejack scooped up the detailed profile, her eyes scanning carefully scanning each line.

“She looks nice,” Rainbow said from Zap Apple’s left.

“Ah don’t know,” Applejack frowned. “Poor ol’ Zaps is still all torn up about Dust Devil. An’ a kirin is a very…different culture to ours.”

Zap Apple bridled at that. “Oh, come off it, Mum. We already talked about this. You can’t assume anything about ponies based on their species.”

Applejack’s frown deepened. “Ah ain’t assuming nothing, you dumb colt. You’re forgetting it was me who made contact with the kirin. An’ Autumn Blaze is still one of my best friends.”

“Then why—?”

“‘Cause I’ve seen the things that can happen when they get mad and the nirik come out,” Applejack snapped. “An’ I don’t know that a mellow, anxious little kid like you can handle that kinda heat.”

Zap Apple frowned and folded his hooves. “Well, I can’t just moon around after Dust Devil forever.” Even as he said it, the words hardened his resolve. He wouldn’t sit around waiting for her to change her mind. They had been on one date. She wasn’t his soulmate or anything like that. There were plenty of other seaponies in the sea. “Yeah, I think I will go meet her. Leaftail. She sounds sort of cool.” At least from what Princess Celestia said, she wouldn’t be expecting marriage or foals anytime soon.

“Ah still don’t think—”

“Oh, come on, you old gloomygrumps,” Rainbow said affectionately. “I think it’s great that Zaps wants to get back out there. We need to support him.”

Applejack muttered mutinously for a moment more, but then subsided. Zap Apple gave them both a grateful hug, and then took flight once more to head up to his room and pen his reply to the Princess.

Chapter 12

Lustre Dawn skipped down Ponyville’s high street, aglow with happiness. Ponies stopped to smile and nod to her, and she had a bright smile and a kind word for each of them.

She was heading for Pinkie Pie’s Party Emporium, and her heart was singing. Six more dates had followed her first with Little Cheese, and each had been better than the last. Every time they met, she felt more at home with the buttermilk-yellow mare, grew to know every twist of her bouncy mane a little better. Every time they talked they discovered new similarities; they both loved walking in the forest, they both loved romance novels (and Cadance was a guilty pick for both of their favourite princess, despite their mutual love for Aunt Twilight), and Little Cheese loved to cook fine foods just as much as Lustre Dawn loved to eat them. Little Cheese’s cheesecakes were pretty much Lustre’s idea of what heaven tasted like, and Little Cheese had even professed a hidden love for The Phantom of the Perilous Peak. Lustre Dawn had purchased her second recent set of tickets to see the play. She was confident that this time would be vastly superior to the time she had seen it with Sparkling Wine, who had droned on about the different ice cream flavours available in Yakyakistan for half of the first act.

The only slight hiccup was her grandparent. On being informed of her choosing to go on a second and third date with an earth pony, as non-magical as they came, her grandparents had gone a little off the rails. Jackpot and Big Bucks had been as supportive as they always were, of course, but Firelight had turned his nose up and refused to discuss the matter any further.

Even Twilight Velvet and Nightlight, though they barely counted as her grandparents, had exuded a stiff sense of disapproval on her last visit with them. Lustre Dawn had left the coffee shop near their Canterlot residence with a sour taste in her mouth, promising herself internally that she would not return until they had apologised.

But it was Stellar Flare and Sunspot that had really fallen in the deep end — angry letters to Princess Celestia, to Lustre herself, to Starlight and Trixie, to anypony who would listen. It had taken a curtly worded letter from Starlight, reminding them that they were only step-grandparents, to finally shut them up. Sunburst had apologised over and over, until Lustre Dawn had eventually told him to just let it go. He was a wonderful father, in his way — but always so nervous, so afraid of losing her. He was so conscious of their not-quite-normal bond that it made Lustre hyper-aware of it as well. It always made her feel a little on edge.

Lustre Dawn rounded a corner and saw the gleaming fuchsia front of Pinkie Pie’s shop, the window displays stuffed to bursting with balloons and cakes. The cheery sight dispelled the lingering worries about her ridiculously complex family life and she hastened her step, her thoughts turning to Little Cheese once more.

They were as different as could be on paper — a mage and a baker, the personal protege of Equestria’s monarch and the daughter of a party planner — but in every way that mattered they were as alike as two peas in a pod.

Little Cheese even shared Lustre Dawn’s closeness with a small group of friends; she was very close with Pound and Pumpkin Cake, despite their age gap, and she understood Lustre’s fierce devotion to her friends.

And today, the seventh date, Lustre Dawn planned to combine her two worlds. Carrot Bran, Yurik, Grayson and Leaftail were all waiting for her in their favourite Ponyville diner, and she and Little Cheese would meet them there. She couldn’t wait to see what her friends thought of Little Cheese, and what Little Cheese would think of them. She was certain they would all love one another. And then maybe next time, Little Cheese could introduce her to the Cake twins. And then they could take both groups and do a group picnic or something. A future of rosy intertwined friendship groups swam before Lustre Dawn’s eyes, and a dreamy smile spread across her face as she pushed open the door to Pinkie Pie’s vibrantly pink shop.

A small party blower sounded as she went in, and a little stream of confetti sprinkled down over her head to tangle in her mane.

“Hello!” sang a high-pitched voice. “How are you today?” Pinkie Pie popped up from behind the counter, clearing it in a single bound, and landing in front of Lustre Dawn, bouncing on the spot. “Oh wow! Lustre Dawn! Hi! How lovely to meet you! Little Cheese hasn’t stopped talking about you in weeks! I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you! I was planning a ‘meeting the parents’ party for you, but here I am, caught all off guard! Never mind—” she seized a party hat from a nearby shelf and jammed it onto Lustre’s head. “—I’ll have to improvise!”

Lustre Dawn, surprised and a little dazed by Pinkie’s energy, as she always was, raised her hooves in supplication. “Aunt Pinkie, hi! But — I’ve already met you and Cheese Sandwich.”

“But not like this, silly!” Pinkie Pie squealed, draping strings of brightly coloured crepe around Lustre Dawn’s neck. “This is a real occasion! My baby bringing home a girlfriend! I’m so excited to meet you this time! Not that I wasn’t last time, of course — but this time I really am!”

Lustre Dawn fended off Pinkie’s efforts to put another, larger party hat atop the first, laughing as she did so. “Auntie Pinkie, come on! I’m meant to be meeting Little Cheese here. Can you call her down for me?”

Pinkie paused at last. “Huh. Weird. I haven’t seen her all morning. I wonder where she could be!” With a skip and a hop, she vanished entirely from Lustre Dawn’s vision and reappeared out the top of a box on the other side of the shop. “She’s not in here!” She ducked down again, the drawer of the cash register pinged open, and Pinkie emerged, beginning to look puzzled. “Or in here.” She scrambled out of the drawer and hurried round the shop, lifting up piles of confetti and streamers to look for her daughter. She stuck her head into each of her party cannons, one by one, until Lustre cleared her throat.

“Um, Auntie Pinkie?”

“Yes?” Pinkie’s voice echoed from deep within one of the party cannons.

“What if you checked upstairs in the flat?”

“Good idea!” Pinkie burst out of a pile of brightly coloured teddy bears and bounded up the stairs at the back of the shop, only to remerge moments later. “She’s not up there, Lustre. I’ve no idea where she could be!” She cocked her head. “Which is definitely suspicious, because I haven’t seen her leave.” She brightened once more. “You should ask Cheese!”

“Good idea,” Lustre Dawn agreed hastily, grateful for a reason to escape as much as anything else. She loved her Auntie, of course, but conversing with Pinkie Pie on her own…she found it to be a lot.

Waving goodbye to Pinkie, she ducked back out the door, accepting the second confetti shower as the price that must be paid in order to find Little Cheese. She trotted a few steps along the street and ducked into the next shop along. A large sign above the door painted with Cheese Sandwich’s face declared it to be Cheese Sandwich’s Silly Supply Store.

Cheese Sandwich’s door did not set off a confetti cannon, but it did make a noise like the honk of a rubber chicken. Glancing up, Lustre caught sight of a rather deflated yellow chicken with a large number three daubed onto its side.

“Howdy!” cried Cheese Sandwich, looking up from the bouncy balls he was stacking. “What can I do you for, Lustre Dawn? Any silly supplies you need, we got ‘em!”

“No silly supplies today, thanks, Cheese Sandwich,” Lustre said, waving his offer away. “I’m just here looking for Little Cheese.”

“Can’t help you there!” Cheese Sandwich answered cheerfully, returning his attention to the pyramid of rubber balls. He carefully lowered the next one into place. “I think she’s with Pinkie.”

Lustre Dawn felt the beginnings of a headache building. “Auntie Pinkie told me to ask you.” She hoped that this wasn’t the beginning of some wacky prank or elaborate surprise party. She just wanted to take Little Cheese to meet her friends, and for everything to go smoothly.

“Hmm,” Cheese Sandwich’s attention was clearly on his pyramid; he cradled the newest ball in both hooves and inched it closer to the top. “Have you tried Pound and Pumpkin Cake? Little Cheese is in and out of there like a ventriloquist’s hoof in his dummy.”

Lustre Dawn winced inwardly at the strange simile, but was content that Cheese Sandwich’s shop had at least absorbed less of her time than Pinkie Pie’s. “Alright. Thanks! See you later.” She let the door honk shut behind her without waiting for his answer.

She strode back the way she had come, past Pinkie’s bright fuchsia doorway and into the more sedate space of the bakery. Pound Cake was standing behind the counter, calmly putting the finishing touches to a batch of cupcakes.

“Pound Cake, have you seen Little Cheese?” Lustre Dawn cut right to the chase. If she didn’t find Little Cheese soon they were going to be late for brunch.

Pound Cake glanced up. “Oh hey, Lustre Dawn. Feels like I’ve been hearing your name a lot lately.”

Lustre coloured. “In a good way, I hope?” She suddenly felt a little nervous. She knew Little Cheese must confide in Pound Cake in the same way she shared secrets with her own friends.

Pound Cake chuckled and rustled his wings comfortably against his white chef’s coat. “Of course. Nothing but good things.”

“Is Little Cheese here?” Lustre Dawn persisted. “Her parents haven’t seen her.”

Pound Cake shrugged. “Nor have I. I’ve not seen her or Pumpkin all morning. I think they must have gone out for a walk or something.”

Lustre Dawn’s heart sank. “But she was supposed to come with me to meet my friends.”

Pound Cake looked up from his cupcakes for the first time, and his expression softened. “I’m sorry, Lustre Dawn. I’m sure it must have just slipped her mind. Or maybe she already went to meet you there?”

Lustre Dawn seized onto that one small remaining hope. “Yes. Yes, you’re probably right.” She imagined Little Cheese sitting with everypony, waiting for her, and turned at once to leave. She had wanted to be there, to carefully smooth over any awkward introductions herself. But no matter. Little Cheese was confident enough, in her own way. She was probably making a great impression.

She left the bakery and trotted swiftly back towards the Hayseed Diner, moving swiftly enough that it was almost a tölt. Her mane bounced against her neck as she moved. By the time she slowed to a walk outside the diner, she was slightly out of breath, but tried hard to modulate the movement of her barrel. She didn’t want to walk in there looking like she had sprinted the whole way.

She smoothed her mane down one last time and then pushed open the door and went inside. It took her only a moment to spot her friends, seated at their usual table in the far corner, and another moment to realise that Little Cheese was not with them.

Hope crumbled, and the world suddenly seemed a little greyer. Her head drooping low, Lustre Dawn made her way over to the table.

“Lustre Dawn, hey!” It was Leaftail that spotted her first, but her wave of greeting soon turned tailed off. “Are you okay?”

“Where’s Little Cheese?” Grayson demanded, his claws splayed on the table before him.

Lustre threw herself into the booth beside Leaftail and buried her face in her hooves. “No, and I don’t know. I couldn’t find her anywhere, and nopony seems to know where she is.”

Instantly, her friends were all concern, leaning in to touch her shoulders and offer consoling words.

“Thanks, guys,” Lustre said miserably, her face still firmly on the table. “I think…I think Little Cheese stood me up.” As she spoke the words, she felt the black pit of despair opening up its gaping jaws to receive her. She had genuinely begun to care for Little Cheese. She had noticed herself looking forward to their dates, daydreaming about Little Cheese when they weren’t together, humming stupid little songs as she went about her day. She had noticed all the danger signs, and she hadn’t thought to catch herself or exercise any caution. She had encouraged herself in her affection. It had felt so right. So natural.

“Surely not!” Carrot Bran sounded scandalised. “It was all going so well.”

Yurik dropped his weighty hoof onto the table like a brick. “Pony a very stupid pony if she ghosts Lustre Dawn.”

“How dare she!” Leaftail’s voice was full of poorly-suppressed anger, and Lustre Dawn lifted her head at last to look at her friend. Her eyes widened in concern; Leaftail was beginning to look a little crispy around the edges.

“Cool it, Leaftail!” she cautioned. A nirik outburst was the last thing they needed in the middle of the diner.

Leaftail jumped and then offered an apologetic grin. She shifted her weight a little sheepishly, but at least the smoke curling up from her mane ceased. “Whoopsie.”

“What should friends do?” Yurik asked gently, his eyes full of concern. “Lustre Dawn want Yurik to smash silly party shop into smithereens?”

Lustre Dawn smiled a watery smile. Even in the depths of her misery, her friends were still here for her, trying to make her laugh. For a long time, such a close, loving group was more than she had ever dared to hope for. But after knowing the effortless ease and intimacy of spending time with Little Cheese, for the first time, it didn’t quite feel like enough.

Chapter 13

Zap Apple grunted as his forelegs took the strain, and sweat broke out across his forehead as he tried to drag himself up the sheer surface of the crag. He found purchase with one of his hind hooves, but the other was still dangling loose in the darkness. Zap Apple gritted his teeth and tried not to give in to the impulse to spread his wings for balance. Leaftail’s opinion on flying up tough bits of the climb had been made very clear to him.

“Come on, Zap Apple!” she called down to him now, her voice as even as it would have been had they been calmly walking along the street, and not dangling seventy feet in the air above the flat black surface of an underground lake. She didn’t even sound out of breath.

Zap Apple’s own breath was coming faster and faster, and his blind pawing at the rock face became more frenetic. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could hang on.

He didn’t waste effort on looking down. It was too dark to see anything beyond the thin beam of his own headlamp. But he felt uncomfortably aware of the yawning space beneath him; the glossy dark mirror of the lake, and the untold depths beneath. Zap Apple was fine with heights — he was a weather pony, for crying out loud — but he was learning fast that underground heights were not his cup of tea.

“Are you alright down there?” Leaftail’s voice echoed from above him, and Zap Apple set his jaw. He didn’t want her coming down to rescue him.

He finally found a tiny crevice to wedge the very tip of his hind hoof into, and although it felt wildly unstable, he steeled himself and threw his weight onto it. From there, he was able to straighten his leg and shove himself up another few feet, where he found another few precious hoofholds and clung on for dear life.

He sucked in a few more gulps of air, and then looked over at Leaftail. She was splayed against the cliff face, her legs contorted into unnatural positions that she nevertheless held as though it was effortless. He could see the wiry muscles in her legs outlined in perfect bas-relief. His daring manoeuvre had brought him level with the tip of her long, almost prehensile tail, which twitched and swayed to keep her balanced. He had hoped she would be impressed, but the expression on her face suggested that this was no more than she expected from him.

When she noticed him looking up at her, she flashed him an encouraging grin. “Nearly there!” Then she was off again, clinging to the most minuscule cracks and swarming up the vertical ascent — more like a spider than a kirin.

Zap Apple clenched his screaming muscles and reached out a quivering hoof for the next hold. His breath was ragged now, his limbs aching. Zap Apple was an athlete, and prided himself on being the fastest and strongest flier in his whole squadron. But this was altogether a different kind of endurance test. He felt like he’d climbed a thousand cliffs, not a mere one.

Above him, Leaftail had reached a narrow ledge — still no more than a hoofspan wide, by Zap Apple’s guess, but still more substantial than the little crevices he was hanging on to. Leaftail hopped onto it and stood poised like a mountain goat. She tripped delicately along it, bunched her muscles, and sprang upwards like a cat, all four hooves pushing off together. Zap Apple’s mouth opened, too late, to cry a warning, but then the glow of Leaftail’s headtorch stabilised again as she landed lightly on another narrow strip of rock a few bodylengths above the first. Zap Apple let his breath rush out in a sigh of relief, and when she turned to smile down at him, he shook his head and gave a small laugh. She was showing off.

Reach after aching reach, Zap Apple pulled himself up the cliff after Leaftail. She seemed to spend an inordinately long time hanging stationary as she waited for him, her position always misleadingly casual. Then when he finally dragged himself alongside her, she would burst into motion again, and with another few quick little motions, have clambered beyond his reach once more.

“Come on, nearly there now!” she called down, her tone encouraging.

Zap Apple no longer had the energy to pretend that he was capable of a normal conversation. He sighed, jammed his hoof into a crevasse, and heaved himself up once more.

A little scuffling sound drifted down from above, and Zap Apple squinted up into the shadows just in time to see Leaftail’s bushy green tail vanishing over an outcropping of rock.

“We’ve reached the top!” Her voice sounded oddly distant and echoey. “You’re almost there!”

Zap Apple gritted his teeth and summoned what little will he had left. His saddlebags felt like they were stuffed with boulders. His legs responded slowly to his mental commands. It was like trying to swim through jelly. But just a little further up was the promise of rest, time for his poor overworked muscles to rest. Somehow, he found the strength to haul his carcass a little further up. His left hoof found a wide, comfortable grip and he bore down on it, replacing his front hoof with his rear and pushing himself upwards once more. He made rapid progress, and before long his questing forehoof found the flat surface of the cliff top.

Almost ready to weep with relief, Zap Apple surged upwards, his weary bones forgotten for a moment. For a split second, his entire bodyweight rested on the tenuous grip of his right hind hoof. It held for a moment, but just as Zap Apple reached for the cliff edge with his second front hoof, the tiny strip of rock supporting the edge of his right hoof collapsed.

Zap Apple’s chest hit the sharp edge of the cliff, knocking the wind out of him. His rear hooves both hung loose, and for one horrible moment he was sliding backwards, scrambling for purchase on the smooth rock with his front hooves, that deep black lake opening in his imagination to swallow him whole. But then sharp teeth closed with a snap in his mane, and he was being hauled roughly forwards. He lurched forward onto his knees, breathing hard, and looked up into the face of his rescuer.

“You okay?” Leaftail asked, actually sounding a little concerned now.

Hastily, Zap Apple struggled back to his feet and attempted a nonchalant nod. “Yeah. Fine.”

Leaftail grinned at his casual denial, and Zap Apple attempted a nonchalant stroll away from the precipice. But his legs were still shaking from the strain, and he only managed to totter a few steps away from the edge before he flopped back to the ground.

Leaftail rewarded him with another of her flash of her sharp little fangs. “That was one of my toughest climbs, you know,” she said, her tone almost conversational. “I’d never take a newbie up that.”

Zap Apple was aghast. “What? But I told you I’d never gone spelunking before!”

Leaftail’s eyelids lowered a little and her smirk widened. “I know. But I thought I’d see how you did on it. Honestly, I expected you to give up halfway through — or just fall off.”

Zap Apple opened his mouth, angry words ready on the tip of his tongue, but they didn’t come. Instead, he shook his head, and despite himself, began to laugh. With fumbling hooves he pushed his sweat-soaked mane out of his eyes.

Leaftail giggled along with him. “I’m sorry!” she said contritely, and Zap Apple was reminded again of his first impression of her — under all the attitude and curly green hair, Leaftail was actually a very attractive kirin.

He groaned and stretched his aching forelegs, and winced as he heard his joints crack. “How did you get so good at that? You were going up that cliff like you were stuck to it!”

Leaftail laughed again. “I grew up in the Perilous Peaks! You can’t get around there unless you have some serious climbing game. Besides, if I’m being honest,” she leaned a little closer, as though she was going to share a secret, and Zap Apple found himself mirroring her movement, “These give me a little bit of an advantage over you ponies.” She raised one cloven hoof, its tough surface split cleanly down the middle, and as Zap Apple watched, she wiggled the two sides independently.

Zap Apple’s eyebrows rose. So his assessment of her climbing style as goat-like hadn’t been so far off the mark after all. He considered his own smooth, round hoof and shook his head. “I bet that comes in really useful in a lot of ways, not just climbing.”

“Oh yeah,” Leaftail said lightly, reaching for her saddlebags, and Zap Apple watched in amazement as rather than scooping it open from the underneath, she pinched it between the two halves of her hoof and lifted the flap from above. Like a rudimentary griffin’s claw.

Zap Apple blew air out in a slow whistle. “Wow. Very cool.”

Leaftail gave him a flirtatious wink. “You bet. I impress tons of ponies with that.”

Turning his attention to his own saddlebags, Zap Apple raised himself onto his aching elbows and snagged the strap in his mouth to pull it towards him. “Right. So we said we’d do a picnic, yeah?”

“You know it.” Leaftail was already rummaging in her bags. “What’d you bring?”

Zap Apple nudged his bags open with his nose and picked up the checkered blanket. “Picnic rug, for a start.”

“Ace, ace,” Leaftail said approvingly. “Slap that bad boy down.” She gestured him towards a particularly large, flat rock with one hoof and produced a candelabra with the other. “I got us covered with lighting.”

Zap Apple clambered back upright and winced at the spike of pain in his front legs. He had definitely pulled something. “I think I’m definitely going to be flying back down.” He scooped up the picnic blanket and with an awkward flick of his head, unfurled it to lay it down across Leaftail’s indicated rock.

Leaftail laughed. “I expected as much.”

There was a sudden whoosh of flame, and Zap Apple jumped and looked around wildly, to see Leaftail blowing casually on one hoof, the flickering candles on their candelabra held in her other hoof.

Zap Apple shook his head. “Damn. I don’t think I could ever get used to that.”

Leaftail placed the candelabra carefully down in the centre of the rug. The flickering orange flames cast a gentler light than the harsh white of their gemstone-powered headtorches, and Zap Apple gratefully tapped the button on his that would turn it off.

“I’ve just always had flame powers,” she shrugged. “To me, flight would be pretty wild.”

Zap Apple flexed his wings; his back was definitely where his strongest and most oft-used muscles were, but today they had hardly even been stretched out. “Well, maybe I could fly you down, if you want?”

Leaftail whirled back to face him, some delicate hay sandwiches dangling in her magic. “Really?” she demanded.

Zap Apple smiled. “Sure! Gliding down and carrying somepony is well within my capabilities. And even if I mess up, we’ve got that lake to crash land in.”

“Wow, that would be awesome.” Leaftail produced a pair of plates and laid the sandwiches out on them. Zap Apple added his own offerings; milk fresh from the herd at home, a single mango, a pair of oranges, and some freshly grown apples, the cream of Sweet Apple Acre’s latest crop. When they were done, Zap Apple regarded the picnic spread with no little satisfaction. Not bad at all, for saying everything had been dragged through several miles of tight cave tunnels and bashed against Luna knew how many rocks.

They settled down to eat in companionable silence, and for a few minutes at least Zap Apple gave himself over to the task of stuffing his face enough to help him recover from that brutal climb. He glanced over at Leaftail a couple of times, and was both relieved and amused to see her wolfing her food with equal abandon.

When the initial edge of Zap Apple’s hunger was gone, he slowed his pace, and munched slowly on an apple as he gazed out into the cavernous depths of the darkness below. He felt warm fur brush his wing, and looked over in surprise to see Leaftail snuggling up against him.

Wow. Well, this is…unprecedented.

Unexpectedly, he saw a sudden flash of Dust Devil’s challenging smirk, the way her wings had shone white in the sunshine. He flinched a little, and Leaftail frowned up at him, her expression questioning.

“I just remembered,” Zap Apple said hurriedly. “I don’t know what Princess Cel— I mean, Auntie Tia told you, but I’m not — that is, I don’t want — I’m not in a big hurry to get married. Or settle down. I’m just trying to…explore, you know. See what’s out there.”

Leaftail was silent for a moment, and Zap Apple scrambled to fill the pause.

“I just don’t want there to be any crossed signals. Just so we’re both on the same page.”

“I’m glad you said that,” Leaftail said at last. “It’s good to hear. I’m only on Auntie Tia’s books to satisfy my Grandpop. He’s on his last legs and it’s his dying wish to see me married, or something. It makes him so happy to hear about the ponies I’m meeting that I’m giving it a try. But honestly, I’m in no real rush. I just want to go with the flow. See what comes.”

Calm flooded through Zap Apple, and he let the breath he had been holding flow out through his nostrils. “Princesses, I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear that.” Thank Celestia that there would be no abrupt halts, no demands for foals in one year’s time, no stinging rejections. This afternoon could just be what it was; a first date. Just two ponies — well, a pony and a kirin — getting to know one another. Simple. Easy.

“I know,” Leaftail replied, a laugh dancing at the edge of her voice. “I think I’ve met with four or five creatures now? And every one I’ve had to turn down, because they’re all desperate to get married in, like, a week’s time!”

Zap Apple let the sweet sound of her laughter wash over him, and closed his eyes. By all the stars, he was tired.

And when he felt the sudden press of Leaftail’s muzzle against his own, it felt like everything else had since they had reached the top of the cliff. Simple. Natural, easy. So he kissed her back, and held her close, and let her long tail twine with his own.

Chapter 14

“And just through here is my favourite one. It has the most unbelievable blue blossoms.” Rose Bloom’s voice was sweet and lilting, almost musical in its quality. It was a voice that hinted at the wonderful singing voice of its owner, one that could charm the birds down from the trees.

It hurt Cozy Glow’s ears.

The yellow-and-fawn shape ahead of Cozy Glow stumbled but didn’t fall, a slight trace of clumsiness that many ponies might have found endearing. A better pony might have offered Rose Bloom a hoof to help her navigate the treacherous surface of tangled roots. Cozy Glow just found herself wishing that Rose would trip or faint or something, and put them both out of their misery.

This clumsy little mock-draconequus was kinder than Prince Patrician, it was true. Mama had asked for a ‘non-bigoted’ pony, and Rose Bloom was certainly that. She didn’t have a bigoted bone in her body. The trouble was, as far as Cozy Glow could tell, Rose Bloom didn’t have any kind of bone in her body. And it wasn’t just that her long, sinuous form — almost noodley, Cozy Glow thought, though she knew it was unkind — could wend its way easily through the tightest of woodland paths. It was that anything Cozy Glow had said or suggested, Rose Bloom had at once quietly, gently assented to. The girl seemed to have no backbone, no opinion of her own on which she was willing to argue a point. It made Cozy Glow want to scream.

Celestia had come to Mama Rarity in high excitement, promising a match with great social clout, links to Equestrian and non-Equestrian royalty, a kind and loving family ready to welcome Cozy Glow in with open arms, and huge swathes of magical power. Best of all, not a Canterlot unicorn in sight. Mama had opted not to reveal to Cozy Glow who exactly she was on her way to meet, and the presence of Rose Bloom at the Ponyville train station had been an unwelcome surprise.

Rose Bloom might possess a kind and loving family — but Cozy Glow already had ample access to the kindness and loving nature of Auntie Fluttershy; everycreature this side of the Lunaran Sea had that. And she’d be damned if she wanted to be welcomed with open paws by that idiotic chaos donkey that called himself Auntie Fluttershy’s husband. If his was the vast reservoir of promised magical strength, he could keep it.

Rose Bloom at least did not resemble her father in personality. The first five minutes of talking with her, during which she had failed to conjure any chocolate rain or transform any objects into dancing teapots or something equally trite, had been enough to show that. But a little more discussion with Rose Bloom had shown that she did not possess any magic whatsoever.

“I’m basically a normal pegasus,” she had confided, her voice soft and sweet. “But just…not quite on the outside.”

Cozy Glow had to agree there — Rose Bloom’s long swanlike neck, lion’s forepaws and deer hooves did not help her with any form of resemblance to a ‘normal’ pony, but she was still oddly pretty. In a strange sort of way. Cozy Glow didn’t much care for appearances; in fact, Rose Bloom’s slightly monstrous looks would have attracted rather than repelled her, if not for that one fatal hurdle. Rose Bloom’s wet blanket of a personality.

As Rose Bloom explained the life cycle of yet another flower and the tender care she provided for it year-round, Cozy Glow wondered what on earth had possessed Celestia to make this match. Rose Bloom was fine — a lovely person, in fact — but that was precisely what Cozy didn’t want. She wanted fire, she wanted spark, intelligence and wit; but all Rose Bloom could offer was a loving heart and a great talent for gardening. She was a good pony, Cozy Glow supposed, but not at all the sort of creature that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

Plus, looking at Rose Bloom’s gleaming red eyes and draconequus form was an unpleasant reminder of some things Cozy Glow would have preferred not to remember. That heady summer in her youth, where she had been flanked everywhere she went by the queen of the changelings and an ancient, malevolent centaur. When the oldest and most powerful creatures in Equestria had done her bidding. Chrysalis and Tirek, her oldest…companions. Not friends. Not then. Not even now. After their release and ‘reformation’, both Chrysalis and Tirek had retreated into the wilds far beyond Equestrian borders. They knew when they were beaten. Only Cozy Glow had returned to pony society, again and again, to dash herself on the sharp rocks of its laws and its cruelty.

But she had weathered those storms, she had come through the other side stronger and harder, with all her anger locked tightly away inside her, where it wouldn’t hurt Mama or anypony else. And now she was thriving, living her best life, as Mama would say. Yes, she had done the right thing. Made the right choices. She was…happy in her life.

But that didn’t mean that looking into Discord’s red eyes every day was something she wanted to do.

“And this tree is home to the loveliest climbing wisteria,” Rose Bloom said, her soft voice cutting into Cozy’s private thoughts like a butter knife, no real force behind it at all. “It’s not the right season for it at the moment, but when it blooms it’s one of the most beautiful things in the world.” She smiled down at Cozy Glow, and though her face was calm and gentle, seeing that long muzzle split to reveal sharp fangs made Cozy Glow’s whole body thrill with the memory of her stolen magic. What it had felt like, to know she could crush the word with a thought, split the earth beneath her hooves, obliterate any who opposed her—

No. Stop that right there. Cozy Glow sighed and shook her head, hard. Doctor Healing Word had made it quite clear that destructive thoughts led to destructive behaviours, and Cozy could ill afford either. Mama depended on her.

“Look, Rose Bloom,” she said, the harshness of her voice grating to her ears after so long listening to Rose Bloom’s lilting tones. “I’m very sorry, and I’m not trying to be rude, but I just don’t think this will be a good fit.”

“Oh!” Rose Bloom’s eyes widened with shock and hurt. Her expression was so like Auntie Fluttershy’s that Cozy Glow’s heart contracted with a pang of guilt.

Rose Bloom leaned closer, her expression contrite and concerned. “Have I said something to upset you? I’m sorry if I talked too long about my flowers. I know they don’t hold the same fascination for everypony else as they do for me.” She gestured apologetically at her cutie mark; a single red rose, the exact shade of her eyes.

Cozy Glow backed away from that all-too familiar face and the flower fragrance that was ever-so-slightly laced with the tang of chaos. “No, no! Nothing you did. It’s all me. Honestly.” She scrambled backwards and spread her wings. “I’m sorry, Rose Bloom, I really am. But I really do have to go now.”

Rose Bloom held out a paw to her and said something else, but Cozy Glow didn’t hear what it was. All she could hear was Discord’s gasping exhalation as she sucked his magic out of him and drank it down, the wondrous exhilaration of it flooding through her, its strange and incomprehensible power, the way she had fought with it, grappled with it, tried to force it to her will —

And then she was tearing herself away from those dangerous memories, and winging her way north, towards the distant friendly shape of Canterlot, hugging the mountain close as it always did.

Author's Note

Another bonus drawing:

Chapter 15

Celestia slowly made her way up the winding track to Sweet Apple Acres. Orchards rolled away on either side of her, field upon field of the glossy-leaved trees, their branches laden with heavy red fruit. Birds sang softly in the distance, and Celestia turned her head to watch them flit from branch to branch. Though flying would have taken half the time that going on hoof did, the walk was a lovely one, and Celestia was glad that she had taken the time to land at the very edge of Apple land and work her way inwards.

She felt fresh and rejuvenated after her peaceful weekend in the Everfree, and she hadn’t been able to resist a quick visit to Sweet Apple Acres to see how Zap Apple’s date with Leaftail had gone. She hoped that she had struck the right note for Zap Apple at last. His personality certainly seemed to align well with Leaftail’s, but chemistry and romantic compatibility were strange beasts, and could be tricky to predict accurately.

Just outside the low fence separating the orchards from the home farm, Celestia spread her wings and took flight. Her mane flew behind her like a pennant, billowing in the wind. She flew low, close to the treeline, and skirted the farm. Charming as the Apple clan were, she was due back in Canterlot for a three o’ clock meeting, and she needed to ensure that this visit didn’t stretch beyond the time she had allotted for it. She was headed straight for Applejack and Rainbow Dash’s cottage. No stops to visit Sugar Belle or Granny Smith this time.

She alighted on the little cottage’s garden path and folded her wings neatly by her sides, rustling the feathers until they were comfortable. Then she took a few paces forwards and raised a hoof to knock twice on the thick oaken door.

Hooves sounded on the stairs, and Zap Apple himself opened the door to her. Celestia gave him her most winning smile, and studied his face carefully as he smiled back up at her. His happiness seemed genuine, with no edge of sadness or worry. Celestia’s spirits lifted. Surely this was a good sign; the meeting must have gone well.

“Hi, Auntie,” Zap Apple said breezily. “Didn’t expect to see you this morning.”

“I happened to be in the neighbourhood,” Celestia replied. “I hope you and your family are doing well?”

“Pretty good, thanks,” Zap Apple answered, his tone changing to one of polite disinterest. He was clearly not a pony who enjoyed small talk.

Celestia decided to cut to the chase. “Are your mothers home? I was hoping we could all catch up.”

“All of us?” Zap Apple sounded surprised, but he stepped back from the door to admit her. “I think they’re round the back having coffee. Come on in.”

Celestia ducked her head to look into the little dwelling, and balked a little at its low ceilings and tightly packed rooms. “They’re already outside, you said?”

“In the back garden,” Zap Apple said, puzzlement in his voice, but his face cleared when he looked back and saw Celestia awkwardly stooped in the doorway, blotting out the daylight. “Ah. Right.”

“Yes.” Celestia smiled to soothe his discomfort. “I’ll just walk around the outside of the cottage.” She thought longingly of Canterlot, where it was a legal requirement that buildings conform to the Celestian Standard Height. But there was nothing to be done about it here. She backed up, and then walked briskly along the little path that hugged the wall of the cottage. She rounded the corner just in time to hear Zap Apple telling his parents in a lowered voice about her presence.

“The Princess is here?” Applejack said, and Celestia coughed politely to announce herself. Applejack swung around, jumping out of her garden chair and to trot up to Celestia and offer her hoof. “Mighty warm welcome to ya, Princess Celestia.”

Rainbow Dash took off from her own seat — a manoeuvre that she made look deceptively easy, but actually required a great deal of technical skill. Celestia knew that many pegasi would not be capable of it, and had to suppress a smile. Rainbow Dash never missed a chance to display her talents.

Rainbow flew over and hovered at Celestia’s head height, and Celestia was able to look directly into her eyes while she greeted her. The exact same shade of pink as her son’s. It was very refreshing, actually, not to be forced to peer down at somepony.

“Hey again, Princess,” Rainbow Dash said. “Come to check in on the kid?”

“Yes, actually,” Celestia confirmed. “I wanted to hear in person how Zap Apple’s first meeting with Leaftail went. The postal service is a wonderful thing, but for some conversations face-to-face contact can’t be beaten, don’t you think?”

“For sure,” Rainbow Dash said. “Pull up a chair, Zaps; I’ll grab one from inside for the Princess.” She was back in a blur of rainbow light, bearing one of the same stout chairs from the kitchen that Celestia had used on her previous visit.

Celestia thanked her and sat down, and Applejack poured out coffee for both Celestia and Zap Apple. “Here ya go.”

“Thank you.”

Expectant eyes turned from every side to Zap Apple, who clutched his steaming mug a little tighter and shifted his weight uncertainly. The silence began to stretch.

“Go on, Shuck,” Applejack prompted him.

“He already told us about it,” Rainbow Dash said in an aside to Celestia.

“But it won’t do him no harm to tell us again,” Applejack said sternly. “Come on, Zaps. Don’t go gettin’ all tongue-tied on me now.”

“Sorry,” Zap Apple apologised, almost instinctively. “I didn’t mean to. Uhm…it went okay. I think it went pretty well. Leaftail is very — very cool. I had a nice time.” He fell silent again, and his heavy fringe fell forward across his eyes, almost like he was trying to shield himself from them all.

Applejack turned back to Celestia. “An’ that there’s about the sum total of what we could get outta him, Princess. Ah’m not sure he’ll say too much more’n that.”

Celestia waved Applejack’s concerns away with a small smile. “Come now, Zap Apple, you must give me a little more to work with than that. What did you do together?”

The simple question seemed to reassure Zap Apple, and he uncurled a little. Like a snail coming slowly back out of its shell, Celestia thought.

“Leaftail took me climbing.”

“How did you find it?”

“Really tough.”

“More of a flier than a climber, this one.” Rainbow Dash leaned over to tousle her son’s mane, her words belied by her obvious pride in this similarity between herself and her child.

“Mum!” Zap Apple laughed and leaned away. He was visibly relaxing now.

Celestia kept her questions simple, but kept them coming. “And what did you do after the climb? Did you talk?”

Zap Apple coloured a little. “Y-yeah, we did.”

“What did you talk about?”

“The future.” He waved a hoof vaguely. “We both said we aren’t sure what we want yet. Just to take things slow, and see how they go.”

“That’s good,” Celestia nodded. “It sounds like you’re both on the same page. What else did you talk about?”

“Our interests,” Zap Apple answered. “We’re both pretty sporty. Leaftail climbs, and I fly. She told me a bit about growing up in kirin lands.”

“The Perilous Peaks are beautiful,” Celestia agreed. “Well, this all sounds wonderful. Do you think you would like to meet with her again?”

Zap Apple blushed a little brighter. “I-I think so.”

Celestia turned to the two parents. “And do you think you would be happy with this match? And the Apple family more broadly, of course; would they be satisfied?"

“Well, Ah would prefer if she came from farming stock,” Applejack began slowly.

“—But all we really want is for our kid to be happy with the partner he picks,” Rainbow Dash added sharply. “We can guide, AJ, not choose.”

“O’course,” Applejack said hastily. “Ah never meant to say he couldn’t pick for himself. Ah was just sayin’.”

“I believe that Leaftail’s mother is the chief berry cultivator and gatherer for the kirin village,” Celestia offered. “Leaftail tells me she helped out a lot with that in her youth. I think she shares the Apple family ethos of hard work reaping rewards.”

Applejack visibly relaxed into her chair. “Oh. Well, why didn’t ya say so sooner?”

“Wonderful,” Celestia said, already mentally picturing the lovely moment when she could close two files forever and see them off into their new life together. “Well, it seems that all is going smoothly for now. Perhaps the best course of action is for the two young people to keep exploring their needs and where they want this to go, and we can reconvene to discuss in a few weeks.”

Rainbow Dash nudged Zap Apple’s chair hard. “You’ve not even told her the best part yet, kiddo!”

Zap Apple’s face immediately flooded with crimson. “Mum!”

Celestia’s eyebrows rose and she zeroed in on Zap Apple. “The best part? It sounds like I should hear this.”

“Ah don’t believe Ah’ve heard whatever you two are referrin’ to either.” Applejack folded her front legs as she spoke, looking more put out than stern.

Zap Apple buried his face in his hooves. “Mum, I told you that in confidence.”

Concern flashed briefly across Rainbow Dash’s face, but then she brushed it away and patted Zap Apple on the wing. “Sorry, Zaps. But I think you just gotta have little more confidence in yourself, kiddo, and tell AJ what you told me.”

Zap Apple spoke from behind the shelter of his hooves. “Leaftail and I were getting on really well…really well, and we…we got quite close.”

Celestia tried to peer behind the obstructions blocking Zap Apple’s expression from her. What little she could see of his face behind his hooves and that untidy mop of hair was beet red.

“What d’ya mean, close?” Applejack frowned.

“We…got physical.” Zap Apple’s voice was almost a whisper.

“That’s my boy!” Rainbow Dash crowed. “Getting some on the first date! Just like his old lady.” She elbowed Zap Apple, hard enough that he made a small whimper in protest. “Come on, kid. Give me a high five.” She held out her hoof, but Zap Apple only groaned and leaned his head further into the tabletop. Rainbow Dash waited for a few moments, and then leant over to drag one of Zap Apple’s unresisting hooves out and clop it against her own. “There we go,” she grinned, satisfied.

Applejack seemed torn between smiling at her family’s antics and disapproving. “Ah’m not sure that was the best idea on a first date, Shuck.”

Celestia’s eyebrows lowered, and she looked in bewilderment from one Apple to the next. “Pardon me — but am I to understand that you and Leaftail slept with one another?” Perhaps she was wrong. Certainly she hoped she was. Perhaps Zap Apple only meant kissing; he seemed easily embarrassed, so it could be as simple as that.

Looking down at Zap Apple’s bowed head, the myriad colours in his mane tangled together on the table, Celestia thought of her niece. Cadance was a great fan of thrusting ponies together and encouraging them to follow their hearts. She believed that a pony’s instincts, no matter how base, should be listened to. “The heart knows what it wants,” she would say, but Celestia knew that it often wasn’t the heart that Cadence was referring to. While the marriage rate in the Crystal Empire was high, so was the divorce rate, and Celestia suspected — not that she would ever say this to her niece — that Cadance’s more permissive approach to love was responsible.

Celestia preferred a different approach, and that was what she had established Auntie Tia’s Matchmaking Service to achieve. She advocated a calm, measured attitude to romance, with serious thought given to each party’s ideologies, personality, goals and family background. That was why she involved the families. Not because their preferences would actually impact the ultimate choice of the pony concerned, but because it encouraged them to take the whole matter seriously, and think hard about the life they wanted. It was a tough ask for young ponies, but Celestia had seen firsthoof the results it provided.

To hear that one of her own clients had gone against her wishes and embraced Cadance's careless attitude to falling in love was more than a little galling. Celestia shuddered a little as she remembered the horror Cadance's headstrong teenage years and the endless parade of colts and fillies that she had snuck into the palace. Celestia had been forced to more than triple the royal guards' patrols, but all that had resulted was a corresponding increase in Cadance's ingenuity. The memories of the rumours, the circling paparazzi, the whispered discussions on what was proper royal etiquette that ceased abruptly whenever Celestia entered a room.

She felt a headache coming on.

Hesitantly, Zap Apple raised his head at last. “Would…that be a problem, Princess Celestia?”

Celestia drew herself up, feeling the air around her heat up suddenly as her magic responded to her emotions.

Hastily, she dispersed the effect, and quelled her rising irritation. Centuries of diplomatic training had prepared her for moments like this. It would do no good to lose her temper.

“I would be very disappointed if that were the case,” she said calmly.

Zap Apple moaned once more and disappeared back behind his forelegs. Rainbow Dash sobered at once, and exchanged a quick, meaningful glance with Applejack.

“Why’s that, Princess?” Applejack asked. “Surely it don’t matter. A little thing like that.”

Celestia shook her head firmly. “That is not the way things should be done, when the intentions of the ponies involved are what they are. We are aiming to match ponies for marriage.”

Rainbow Dash’s ears went back. “But surely it’s just a bit of fun—”

Celestia raised a hoof to cut her off, and Rainbow Dash fell obediently silent. Celestia had expected no less; after millennia of rule, her little ponies would always respect her. “I don’t usually think it necessary,” she went on, “to explain in detail to my clients the comportment I expect from them, but perhaps I should have been more explicit in this case. I expect ponies using my service to treat every match seriously, to approach each individual I offer them as a serious prospect for life partnership. That means getting to know them, spending time investing in their personality and mind. Not rushing into bed with them.”

Zap Apple looked up, his pink eyes huge and anxious in his thin face. “But I—”

Celestia cut him off just as she had his mother, her eyes narrow. “I am not running a dating service, Zap Apple. We have been trying to find you a soulmate.”

“Now hold on just a cotton-pickin’ minute, Princess,” Applejack interjected. “Ah think you’re comin’ on a little strong—”

“Yeah,” Rainbow Dash added, her wings spreading protectively over her son. “It was just a hook-up.”

Celestia bought her hoof down on the table. The motion was gentle, the impact scarcely made a sound, but the other three ponies still flinched.

“There is no such thing as ‘just a hook-up’,” Celestia said firmly. “Imagine how things might go if this happened with every pair of ponies I match — if they got intimate too soon, then things went wrong afterwards and contact was cut. Feelings might be seriously hurt, things would be complicated.” She ran a hoof through her mane. “My match-making service would become just another cheap dating agency. The goal of life partnership would be lost in favour of finding the next one-night stand.”

She shook her head. "I cannot tolerate that sort of conduct from my clients."

Zap Apple made a strangled sound in his throat and stood up very suddenly. All eyes went to him, and Celestia wondered if he was about to have some sort of outburst — if he would shout at her, or cry — but instead, he turned and fled from the room, the kitchen door banging shut behind him.

Applejack and Rainbow Dash both jumped to their hooves. “Zaps!”

“I’ll go after him,” Rainbow said to Applejack. “This whole mess is my fault. I shouldn’t have said anything.” She glanced over at Celestia. “He’s a really good kid, Princess. He never meant any harm.”

“I know,” Celestia replied, a little doubt finally creeping in. Perhaps she had been too harsh? Zap Apple was much more fragile than his outward bravado had initially suggested. His mothers were both such tough and confident characters that it was hard to imagine their seemingly similar offspring would be different. But perhaps, Celestia mused, that was the very reason. It might be hard to be genuinely confident in yourself with such powerful and famous ponies for parents.

Rainbow Dash hurried after Zap Apple, her hooves drumming loudly on the stairs, and Applejack sighed and sat back down beside Celestia. “Ah’m sorry, Princess.”

“Don’t be,” Celestia said. “I fear that I owe you an apology too.” She sighed. “I perhaps should have been clearer from the beginning. Zap Apple is quite…uncertain about what he wants from life, is he not? And that is perhaps not the best position for a pony using my services to be in.”

Applejack rubbed a hoof across her forehead. “Actually, Ah hoped usin’ your services might give him some of that certainty. He’s a real good boy, Princess, and we jus’ want to see him happy an’ settled. A supportive partner’d do wonders for him.”

Celestia rested her chin delicately on one hoof. “It’s clear that both you and Rainbow Dash can see that. But Zap Apple has to see it too. He needs to know what he wants.”

“Ah know,” Applejack said solemnly. “And Ah’ll talk to Zaps, make sure he understands too.”

Celestia nodded thoughtfully, and then leaned down a little to make real eye contact with Applejack before speaking again. “I hope you can understand my perspective on all this, Applejack. Sex is fun, we all know that—” Applejack’s eyebrows rose sharply to hear Celestia say that word, “—but marriage is serious. The important aspects must be focused on before the fun ones.”

“Ah know,” Applejack repeated. “Ah’ll make sure Zaps gets it. Will…will ya still work with us on this? Or is it one strike an’ he’s out?”

Celestia spread her hooves. “As long as Zap Apple is sure about what he’s doing, I can help to guide him to the right partner.”

Applejack exhaled. “Right. Well, that’s mighty kind of ya, Princess.” There was a slight pause, and Celestia saw Applejack’s eyes flicker to the larder; she was probably about to offer some Apple family hospitality. Applejack was always a gracious host, but Celestia had a schedule to stick to — a schedule that she had forgotten in the heat of this discussion — and in this moment it was clear that Applejack’s family clearly needed her more.

“I think I had better take my leave now,” Celestia said, rising gracefully from her chair. “I must go and speak with Leaftail and clear this matter up with her as well.”

Applejack nodded. “Of course. Thank you for comin’, Princess.”

“It’s always a pleasure to visit you and Rainbow Dash,” Celestia said, and meant it. Though she always intended to get to know them a little more, it had been too long since she spent any length of time with the close friends of her faithful student. “And truly, I am sorry if my arguments for waiting came off a little too…forceful. It’s a debate Cadence and I have had many times, and I fear I may have…shot from the hip, perhaps.”

Applejack didn’t answer; her gaze was already straying to the door that Zap Apple and Rainbow Dash had vanished through.

Celestia made her way along the garden path and paused at the corner of the cottage to look back at Applejack one last time. “Encourage Zap Apple to think seriously about whether this is the right path for him. I can’t genuinely encourage him to meet again with Leaftail, or match him with more ponies, if he does not genuinely want to be matched.”

Applejack nodded. “Ah understand. Ah’ll be in touch soon, if Zaps isn’t.”

Celestia raised her head in a final goodbye, and then spread her wings and left the little cottage and its sentinel apple trees behind her.

Chapter 16

A quick and easy flight, made faster still by a swift prevailing wind, brought Celestia speedily to Ponyville’s only train station. As she circled and prepared to land, she glanced away to the Castle of Friendship, lying tranquil beside Twilight’s school. The early afternoon sunlight played across the reflective crystal rooves, and before Celestia knew what she was doing, she had banked and was gliding rapidly down towards the Castle. It would do no harm to pay a little visit to one of her other Ponyville clients. She alighted on the doorstep and rapped briskly on the vast surface of the door. At least here she wouldn’t have to worry about ducking. An alicorn ten times her own size would still easily fit in the cavernous rooms of Twilight’s old home.

The door creaked open, pulled by the sparkling magic of a particularly cantankerous-looking blue mare.

“Hello, Trixie!” Celestia said brightly, trying hard to shake off the disappointment that her visit to Sweet Apple Acres had brought her and go into her next mission with an open mind. “I’m here to see Lustre Dawn.”

“Hmm,” Trixie answered dubiously. “Probably a good thing. It’s not been going well.”

Celestia’s ears came forward at once. “What do you mean?” Please, not another failure. She wasn’t sure she could take a second in one day.

“You’d better go up and see her for yourself.”

Trixie pointed Celestia towards the wide staircase and left her to traverse its sweeping length alone. Undirected, Celestia wandered the halls for a little while searching for traces of Lustre Dawn’s magical signature and before she was able to follow them to their source.

From a deep, many-cushioned nest, Lustre Dawn looked up at Celestia. Her face was pallid and streaked with tears. Her mane hung in knotty strands around her face, and tissues were strewn across the floor like bones outside a dragon’s lair.

“Auntie Tia?” she asked, in such a small, foal-like voice that Celestia’s heart went out to her.

“Oh, my dear,” was all she said, and she went to sit beside the bed.

Lustre’s face crumpled again and she buried her head back into a pillow. Her thin shoulders quivered.

“Oh, Lustre Dawn,” Celestia said again, in that very gentle voice she had used the first evening after Luna’s return, when she had woken her newly adolescent sister to welcome her back to her first Equestrian night. She put a hoof against Lustre’s side, and could feel her ribs heaving even through the many blankets Lustre Dawn had swaddled herself in. “What went wrong?”

“S-she didn’t show up,” Lustre said into her pillow, almost inaudibly. “She just didn’t come.”

Celestia moved her hoof against Lustre Dawn’s shoulder, stroking her in a manner that she hoped was soothing. From Lustre Dawn’s reaction, she had been sure it had been something much worse; some sort of screaming fight in a restaurant, some bombshell about somepony’s past — something a little more substantial. But she couldn’t very well say that to Lustre Dawn; the poor thing was in pieces.

“That must have been very confusing,” she said softly. “But are you sure Little Cheese didn’t just…forget? Or perhaps go to the wrong restaurant?”

Lustre Dawn’s head whipped up, her eyes suddenly blazing. “She hid herself from me, Princess! I went to everypony she knew, practically, and they all said she wasn’t there!” As suddenly as it had come, the anger left her face, and she sagged once more into the cushions. “It was deliberate. I know it was. She decided she didn’t want to see me any more, and rather than talk to me about it, she just…didn’t come.”

Celestia smoothed Lustre Dawn’s mane back from her face. It was evident that the poor child felt that she had offered herself to somepony, and been rejected most cruelly. The move seemed very…uncharacteristic of Little Cheese, who had always struck Celestia as a pony deeply concerned with honour and doing the right thing. But Lustre said it had happened, and Celestia wasn’t going to disbelieve the closest thing to a grandfoal she had had in over four hundred years.

A fresh fit of crying wracked the poor little creature, and her horn ignited to bring the box of tissues closer to her face. Celestia, seeing that the box was already emptied, hurriedly dug in her golden-tooled saddlebags for her own handkerchief. She had it ready in her magic to offer to Lustre Dawn when she turned dispiritedly away from the empty tissue box. Lustre took the hanky in her own magical field, tears still rolling down her face, and blew her nose hard.

Celestia felt her own heart ache a little in sympathy with Lustre Dawn. The young felt everything so keenly.

“Never mind, dear,” she said, softly. “It is better to find out now that you weren’t compatible, than it would be had things gone any further.”

Lustre Dawn only cried harder. “I really liked her, Auntie!” She sobbed into the sun-embroidered handkerchief, tears distorting her voice. “I thought she really liked me!”

Celestia, helpless to aid the prostrate filly before her, could do nothing but hold her as she wept.

Chapter 17

After a little agonising and several drafts, Zap Apple dutifully sent his letter to Leaftail. Upon receiving a rather terse reply, he was in the Hayseed Diner at the appointed time. He waited impatiently, his hooves tapping a brisk rhythm against the table. It had been impossible to tell from that brief missive what sort of reception he would be met with. Just a simple “I’ll see you there” gave him nothing to work with.

But when she walked in, her brown tail swishing alluringly from side to side as she came, he couldn’t help but hope a little. Leaftail was a pony as laid back as himself. They both loved adventure, they both wanted to explore the world they lived in, and neither of them were in a rush. And last night had been wonderful, whatever Princess Celestia’s opinion might be. Surely things couldn’t go too wrong.

He wasn’t sure he could take another “You’re not right for me.” Dust Devil’s words still wounded him.

But Leaftail kept her gaze firmly on the table, and waited until the waiter arrived to take their orders before she spoke at all. “I’ll have a jasmine chai latte, please.”

When she still didn’t say anything to begin the conversation Celestia had demanded that they have, Zap Apple’s hopes began to wilt.

Doing his best to swallow his nerves, he reached across the table for her hoof. “It’s good to see you again.”

Her cloven hoof lay in his like a dead thing, and she said nothing.

Feeling bitterly disappointed at something he couldn’t quite quantify, Zap Apple released his grip. “It seems like we…messed up.”

Leaftail didn’t meet his eyes. “Yeah.”

Zap Apple tried for a little humour. “Auntie Tia come down on you like a ton of bricks too?”

The corners of Leaftail’s mouth lifted slightly. “Yeah.”

Zap Apple worked his jaw. Princesses, it hadn’t been this awkward last night, had it? Why wouldn’t she look him in the face?

“So — ah — are you interested in — maybe meeting up again? Going on another date?” He had thought he really liked her. Now he was beginning to doubt it. It certainly didn’t seem like she liked him all that much anymore. “I mean — Auntie Tia said I should clear up any misunderstandings, make it clear where we both stand—”

Leaftail finally looked up, her eyes a flash of amber. “She said the same to me.”

Zap Apple struggled to read the meaning in her expression. “A-and?”

Leaftail hooded her eyes again. Zap Apple wanted to scream. Why wouldn’t she talk to him?

“Leaftail?” he tried again, reaching across the tabletop once more.

She snatched her hoof away, and Zaps flushed crimson. The rejection stung.

“And I think Auntie Tia’s right,” she said finally. “I think we did make a mistake, and I don’t think it’s a good start to a process that might end in…” she paused, but there was no tiptoeing around the word, “Might end in marriage.”

Zap Apple looked at his hooves. Scuffed the carpet beneath the table. Leaftail had seemed so perfect for him, so similar to his own personality. He had liked Leaftail the most out of anypony he’d met with, aside from Dust Devil. She…this was worth one more try. “I think…I think that we could start it however we liked. Couldn’t we?”

Leaftail shook her head, the movement short and abrupt. “I’m sorry, Zap Apple. I’m sure you’re the right mate for somepony — but not for me. I just don’t want to take this any further.”

Zap Apple felt the air leave his body. He felt as though he’d been kicked in the stomach. He searched for words, but found he had none. She hadn’t even told him why. She had looked at him, assessed him as coldly as a pony buying bread at the market, and found him wanting. He had been tossed back onto the stall without even a word of explanation.

Seeing his expression closing up like a turtle receding into its shell, Leaftail tossed him one more scrap of information.

“I’m pulling out of the whole thing.”

Looking up again, Zap Apple blinked. “I — what?”

She shrugged. “I’m done. Nothing my Grandpop wants is worth this kind of pressure. It might work for some ponies — my friend Lustre Dawn is obsessed with the pony Celestia gave her — but I just can’t take having a literal princess of Equestria barge into my private caving tour groups demanding to know why I did or didn’t bang a certain pony.”

“I’m sorry,” Zap Apple whispered. “I didn’t know she’d done that.”

A grim smile flashed across Leaftail’s muzzle. “Yeah, well. Never mind the impact that’s gonna have on my business — it’s just not worth it any more. No offence, Zap Apple, I had fun on our date — sorta — but you’re just not worth this sort of hassle. Nopony is.”

The thudding of his heart faltered and stuttered, and Zap Apple’s ribs felt like a cage around his lungs.

Suddenly all he wanted was to get out of that oppressive little room. Away from the mare who had trampled all over the fragile little white flag that he had tried to offer.

He jumped to his hooves and started for the door. Leaftail made a little noise of surprise, but he didn’t look back. There were too many tears prickling in his eyes for that. “Don’t worry. I won’t bother you again.”

He let the door slam behind him and leaned against it for a moment, breathing hard. He was back to square one. No, worse that square one. Before he’d embarked on this horrendous journey, he’d had a reasonable life. He’d gone every week to Appleoosa, done his job, found pleasure in the thrill of his work and the fleeting companionship of his squadmates, and then come home every weekend to bask in the soothing embrace of his family. He had thought he was happy.

But the brief flashes of companionship that had been shown to him had made him realise an awful, sinking truth. Zap Apple was lonely — deeply, secretly, heartrendingly lonely.

And now another chance at happiness had been snatched away. He’d have to go back to his mothers, face their disappointment, their concern, and worst of all, their compassion. And then he would have to go back to Auntie Tia, cap in hoof, and ask her to begin the whole nightmare process all over again.

Chapter 18

Celestia sat alone in the darkness, staring out of the silent forest. The air was still and the quietness seemed to subtly press in on her. The world was empty, and for the first time in a long time, she experienced perfect solitude.

Was this what it was like to be Princess of the Night?

A letter lay folded before her, half out of its envelope. Celestia had carried it with her from Canterlot that day and it had waited all evening, ripe and heavy with the information it carried, until she had torn it open at last. Once she was done reading, she snuffed out her lone candle, and sat, silently, in the night. Turning the words it contained over and over in her mind.

Zap Apple was leaving her services. He felt he had to follow his heart. He appreciated everything she had done, but something about this experience just wasn’t right for him.

Each tentatively-worded sentence smote Celestia like a dagger to the chest.

She had mishandled everything.

Gazing once more out of the window, Celestia watched the stars beyond the castle walls. A lone tear slid slowly down her cheek. Since her abdication, she had searched for meaning, for purpose beyond ruling Equestria. She had thought she had found it.

But this letter, coupled with the one in Leaftail’s file back in her office, threw everything into doubt. Two clients lost, solely because they could not reconcile the reprimands she had given them with the supportive, personalised service they had been promised. Two of her little ponies, who had rejected the help she had offered, and forced their way out of the motherly embrace of her wings.

Celestia was not a vain pony. But she truly believed that she had done her best, given her utmost, to her kingdom. She had thrown her whole self into it. But she was no longer required. It was just as she herself had planned, had worked towards for years. A retirement for her and Luna. A rest, a break. Time to grow as ponies, outside of the role of rulers.

And the matchmaking service as a microcosm of her throne, a way to serve her kingdom in miniature. To give ponies the guidance and help she so loved to give, but in a way that would not consume her as the throne had done.

Yes, it was all as she had planned. Why then did it feel so hollow?

Two ponies — well, a pony and a kirin — had left her tonight. To join the ranks of all the other ponies who no longer needed the mother who had watched over them for aeons. It should not hurt her, not when she had already lost so many of her little ponies and become redundant in their lives, but somehow, it still did.

It was made all the worse that she had only herself to blame. Matchmaking was very like diplomacy. Both required a gentle, subtle touch. To guide ponies towards the optimal outcome that would ensure their happiness and health, she had always guided them with hints and lessons so subtle they would come to the right conclusions on their own.

This was not an approach Celestia took maliciously. She had tried allowing her ponies to rule themselves, to act without undue influence.

War had been the result. War and windigos, dozens of ponies proclaiming themselves Princess. Celestia had stepped back in just in time, and tried to do what she could to keep things on track.

When she didn’t intervene, time and again she saw the chaos that unfolded. Luna had entered a rebellious phase in her teenage years, when she was only a few hundred millennia old. Celestia had taken a hooves-off approach, to let her sister discover herself in her own time.

And Nightmare Moon had arisen.

In the aftermath of Luna’s banishment, Celestia had dragged herself out of her grief and forced herself to focus on the ponies who remained. No longer would she allow those she loved to descend into darkness. No longer would she sit by and watch.

And so she had carefully managed, nudged and pointed, everypony with whom she came into contact. For centuries, it had seemed to work near-perfectly. Celestia’s methods had helped Twilight to grow into the regal princess she now was. Celestia had taught her all the magic she would need, and then sent her out to secure the friendships only Twilight could create. That had secured the return of Luna, just as Celestia had hoped. And in the years that followed, Celestia had created more problems for Twilight to solve, more lessons for her to learn — a stray dragon here, a pretence at helplessness there — and Twilight had risen peerlessly to meet every challenge.

But now it seemed that Celestia’s tried and tested methods, her very worldview, were no longer relevant. Outmoded. Outdated. As out of touch as the teenaged Cadence had so often accused her of being.

Celestia hung her head, and a tear, silvery in the starlight, dragged its slow trail over her cheek.

“Sister?”

The quiet voice made Celestia flinch. Hastily, she wiped her eyes and turned to greet Luna with a smile. “Hello, Lu. How is your night going?”

Gravely, Luna made her way across the shadowed room, her hooves looking almost bare for a moment without their old silver shoes. “I have passed a most pleasant evening among the fireflies. But I don’t think that is what we should talk about, Celestia.” Her voice was infinitely gentle, but Celestia shied away.

“I’m not sure that I can.”

Luna placed a kindly hoof atop her sister’s, and Celestia felt the tears rise anew.

“Tell me what ails you.”

Celestia sighed again, long and mournful. Perhaps it would do her good to talk her fears through with somepony. “I fear that I have made a grave mistake.”

“Would you like to talk about it?” Luna asked. Her expression gave nothing away.

Celestia shook her head. “I am afraid you would judge me to have behaved poorly, little sister. I am coming to that view myself.”

Shaking her own starlit locks from side to side, Luna gave a little laugh. “Nopony has made more mistakes than I, Tia.”

“What?” That got Celestia’s attention. Ever defensive of her younger sibling, nothing riled her more quickly than ponies blaming Luna for her past actions; even if the pony placing the blame was Luna herself.

“Peace,” Luna waved away Celestia’s objection with a hoof. “What I mean is, you have always forgiven and loved me. You taught me that I am not my darkest self, and I would be a poor pony indeed if I could not help you see the same." She settled herself in the window beside Celestia. “Besides, it is only in the darkest shadows that the subtlest, most beautiful lights can be seen.” She gestured upwards with her horn, toward the twinkling light of the stars.

Her muzzle sagging in defeat, Celestia let the sordid tale be drawn forth. “I have…done wrong, perhaps. I fear my actions may have kept apart two ponies who truly cared for each other — or who would have come to care for each other — but they chose to express it in a way that I myself would not have done. And I...I reacted wrongly, and it has caused them both to lose trust in me.” Her words came a little faster as she looked into Luna’s deep, forgiving gaze. “I may have separated them forever, Luna — or if I have not, and Zap Apple is following his heart towards Leaftail, then I may have forced together two ponies who I suspect are not right for each other. How can I tell what the best outcome will be? How can I fix what I have done?”

To her shock, Luna’s gentle eyes curved up at the corners as she began to laugh.

“What?” Celestia demanded. Did Luna mock her? Surely not.

The laughter faded from Luna’s throat. “Tia, you give yourself too much credit.”

“What do you mean?”

Luna sighed and tapped a hoof meditatively against the window pane. “Our ponies may have been shaped by us, moulded in the infancy of the species — but they have agency that I do not think you have grasped. These individuals you speak of are not toys to be guided into the outcomes you think best. They need to be allowed to find their own way.”

Turning slowly away from her sister, Celestia gazed into the unfathomable depths of the night sky, a thousand times more shallow than the wisdom of the alicorn beside her. “How came you to that conclusion?”

Luna chuckled once more. “Oh, Tia. I was one of your little ponies. You shaped and moulded me as much as any of them. You did it with the purest of hearts, but you tried to fit me into the shape you had decreed would be best for me. And…” she paused delicately, “Well, we all know the results.”

Celestia's breath rushed from her mouth as she swung back to face her sister. “But Nightmare Moon — I thought it was jealousy — the love of the ponies—” Too late, she caught herself. This was too painful a subject to be treated so carelessly. “Forgive me, Luna. I have spoken out of turn.”

“No, no,” Luna reassured her. “It has been nearly forty years since I returned. I can speak of it without pain.” She paused again, and the only motion was the gentle undulations of their manes. “Those things…they were part of it. But so too were the expectations — of you, and of the ponies that you viewed as yours. They needed me to be like you, a statue graven in your image. But I needed something else. I tried to find it...but I found something else entirely.”

Lowering her head, in shame this time, Celestia felt her tears pooling once more. “I have been a poor sister and a poor ruler, have I not? And now a poor matchmaker, to boot.”

“You have been a kind hearted pony. One who did her best. Come sister, it would be a dull eternity if we were not capable of learning, would it not?”

“I suppose so.”

Luna’s wings ensconced her in a soft embrace. “Celestia, sister. I say this not to wound, but to heal. You are saddened by what happened with the Apple colt. Try to find the lesson in this, just as you would have had Twilight do.”

“I just — I wanted to do my best for him — to help him follow his heart.” Celestia leaned into the hug. “But I have only steered him further off course.”

“No,” Luna whispered. “It sounds to me like you helped him to know his own heart, and that it is now leading him away from your path and down his own. You did him a service, Celestia.”

Pulling back just enough to see Luna’s face, Celestia blinked. “I did? But — will his path lead to Leaftail?” A flash of insight struck her. “Have the stars whispered—?”

“—No.” Luna quelled that hope before it had a chance to take root. “My friends do not pay close attention to the mortal realm unless I ask it of them. But what I am trying to say is that it does not matter where his path will lead him.”

“…It doesn’t?” Celestia didn’t understand. How could Luna simply not care about one of their own?

“No. What matters is that the path he is on is his. He chooses it himself. You always say that the ponies using your services must make the final choice themselves. The colt’s choice has just not been the one you anticipated.”

“But his happiness—” —is not ensured, she had been going to say, but Luna cut her off.

“Is his own to find. Tia, you must focus on the ponies who do want your help. The Apple colt will have learned and taken something from you, and that will help him on his journey towards his destiny — whatever that may be.” Luna placed a firm hoof upon Celestia’s journey. “You must learn to let go, Tia. You must learn to let your ponies go, when it is time.”

Celestia sagged, feeling Luna’s words sink into her flesh and pierce her heart. It was true. She had been keeping them all too close. She had been guiding them towards the choices she thought were best — without giving them all of the information to make the choice themselves. All of the ponies were as foals to her, the timeless one, but she was forgetting that foals they were not.

“Think on what I have said.” Luna stood to leave her. “And sleep, sister dear. I will meet you in the solarium at dawn — I think I’ll make you some pancakes for a change.”

Managing to summon a weak smile, Celestia’s gaze slid back to the window. Luna was right, of course. She always was. Celestia could not save everypony — and there was the question of whether they wanted to be saved, and indeed, whether it was truly saving. She suspected that she would not sleep much this night. There were many things to mull over.

“And, Tia?” Luna called over her shoulder as she neared the door to the chamber. “I have seen Zap Apple’s dreams — and let me tell you one thing to ease your curiosity. It is not the kirin that he dreams of.”

Stunned, Celestia watched her go, and then she let out a long breath of air. It did not matter, of course. Zap Apple was charting his own course now, free to find his own love or heartbreak. And Celestia…she vowed to do as Twilight had done so many times; come what may, she would learn from this most painful lesson.

Chapter 19

“Gah!”

The sound of smashing crockery made Raven Inkwell start. She put down the stack of paperwork she had been holding and cocked her head, listening carefully.

There was the sound of swiftly-pacing hooves, and another muttered expostulation.

It was enough to make Raven Inkwell’s decision into a simple one. The Princess needed her. She stood, much more carefully than she would have done once, and began her slow progress from her desk towards the outer door.

She paused for a moment behind that last wooden shell of protection, listening to the Princess’ furious pacing, and then pushed her way out into the storm.

Celestia looked over at once and saw Raven Inkwell, but did not immediately acknowledge her. She returned her gaze to the letter in front of her, her eyes skimming over it and narrowing as they went.

“Princess?” Raven asked. She made her slow way forwards and settled her old bones into a seat. She couldn’t stand upright for very long these days, but she prided herself on the fact that she had never needed a cane.

Princess Celestia muttered something that Raven Inkwell couldn’t quite make out, her words hissing like acid into the desk before her.

Raven Inkwell tried again. “Is it something I could help you with, Princess?”

Celestia met Raven’s eyes at last. “I’ve received a letter from Cozy Glow,” she said flatly.

“Ah.” That was all Raven Inkwell needed to hear to grasp the situation in its entirety. In the few short weeks that Cozy Glow had been a client of Auntie Tia’s Matchmaking Service, she had been the cause of more stress and anger than almost the entire decade preceding her arrival.

Celestia ground the letter into the desk beneath her hoof; not quite hard enough to tear it, but not gently either. “I have not…had a pleasant week, Raven, and this — this foal is the most — the most insufferable little creature that ever lived. She has rejected thirty-two matches! And of the two she has deigned to meet with — both have been disastrous.”

Raven Inkwell frowned sympathetically and leaned forward a little in her chair. Sometimes the most helpful thing she could do was to simply offer a listening ear to let the Princess talk through the problem she was facing. Raven’s spine creaked alarmingly as she moved, but she paid it no mind. Her body was always falling to pieces these days; she had learned to ignore it and focus on the task at hoof.

Celestia was speaking again, her words clipped and hurried out of her mouth by frustration. “One of her matches she reduced to a quivering bundle of nerves and traumatised to the extent that he left my services altogether. As if I had already not lost enough clients recently.”

Sagely, Raven Inkwell nodded. She remembered the disaster with Prince Patrician well. There had been some particularly nasty threats of legal action from an irate Prince Blueblood, which had continued until Raven Inkwell had taken him aside and hinted gently that if he wished to continue receiving his royal stipend from Celestia’s estate — the one Raven personally administrated — he might wish to reconsider.

Celestia turned away from the desk and began to pace the room, shouldering the furniture that blocked her path aside like so many pieces of kindling. Her long legs ate up the tiny distances with ease, and she had to stop and turn after only three or four paces; something which did not ease her irritation as far as Raven Inkwell could tell.

“And now this one!” Celestia completed her lap of the room and spun immediately into another. “Every word a complaint! She lists every detail about Rose Bloom that she found to be ‘substandard’.”

Raven Inkwell sighed and offered another consoling frown. “Cozy Glow is a hoof-full and a half.”

“Yes,” sighed Celestia, covering her eyes momentarily with a hoof. “Listen to this.” She lifted the letter in the golden field of her magic and began to read aloud.

“Powerful parents and aristocratic connections do not a successful marriage make,” Celestia spat. “My mate must have ambition and an appetite for success. They must be my equal, not a quivering mouse.” Celestia dropped the letter in disgust and coldly watched it drift to the floor. “After everything Cozy Glow has done to Equestria — after all she put us through! To comport herself like this, as though she were some sort of prize—!”

She cut herself off, breathing hard, and whirled back to Raven. “She writes that she is losing faith in my abilities. Mine!”

That was too far. Raven Inkwell shook her head emphatically. “She’s a fool, Princess. You have made over nine hundred successful matches ending in marriage only in the years since Princess Twilight Sparkle took the throne. And hundreds more in the years before that! And those are only the ones that I was witness to; I wouldn’t even be able to guess at the numbers of marriages you had a hoof in over the course of your reign.”

Celestia ground her teeth audibly together. “But what use is it, what use is all that, if I can’t match her? I can find the right partner for anypony. Making connections, managing situations, helping ponies onto the right path — it’s what I do. What I’ve always done.” She slumped into a chair, looking more defeated than Raven Inkwell had ever seen her. She turned her hooves upwards and stared blankly into them. “Am I losing my touch? What if I can’t do it? What if Cozy Glow is one challenge too far?”

Raven Inkwell surged forward out of her armchair, her age and arthritis forgotten for one wondrous moment as she went to her Princess’ side. “You mustn’t think like that, Princess! You can do this. You can do anything.”

Celestia snorted air through her nose, but her hoof came gently to rest on top of Raven Inkwell’s head. “Thank you for your belief in me, my little pony.”

“Just think about it,” Raven Inkwell said urgently, almost begging. She couldn’t bear it, seeing her wonderful, infallible, ageless Princess beaten down in this manner. “Just consider the problem.” She fumbled through the papers on Celestia’s desk and pulled Cozy Glow’s file out of the mess. She flipped through the pages, one by one. “What does Cozy Glow need most?”

Celestia sighed and stared over Raven’s head into empty space. “Dominion over lesser creatures. Ponies to bully. Ponies to fight.”

“But how does that translate into the real world? Into day-to-day life?” Raven persisted. Even when she couldn’t see the answers, she knew that if she could just find the the right questions to ask, Celestia would know what was the right thing to do. It was a dance they had performed countless times over the years.

“Hmm,” Celestia’s chin rested on her pastern. “What is it she really wants? Ambition. Success. Wealth. Power.” Her eyes flickered rapidly.

Raven Inkwell held her breath. “Princess?”

Celestia’s hoof suddenly slammed down onto the arm of her chair. “A challenge. What Cozy Glow wants — all she’s ever really wanted — is a challenge. All the rest of it doesn’t matter.” She caught her breath. “It’s just like Luna said. Cozy doesn’t want somepony subservient; she wants somepony strong. She just wants somepony that has a chance at beating her. An intellectual equal — somepony to match wits with.”

Raven Inkwell nodded. She could see that Celestia’s mind was racing. Her Princess was back on her hooves, thundering along the right path. “Who can you think of that is her intellectual equal?”

Celestia’s eyes flashed and she leapt to her hooves. “I think I might just know.”

Chapter 20

Lustre Dawn rolled over in her bed, a detritus of soiled tissues and fast food wrappers tumbling in a minor avalanche to the floor as she moved. She reached for another tissue, but the box was empty once more. She pushed it away from her in disgust, and it clattered to the crystalline floor atop the other rubbish.

Lustre Dawn sighed disconsolately and rested her head on her crossed hooves. She had read all the trashy romance novels that Trixie had been able to procure for her at the library. They too now littered the floor of her bedroom. Lustre had wept huge, snotty tears at the stories of the perfect romances and love stories, something she would never now know. Then she had grown frustrated with her own wallowing and tried to drag herself out of bed, over to her desk to finish the paper she had been writing: ‘On Magical Maladies and their Misuses’. She knew that it was almost guaranteed to be a hit with the other researchers in Canterlot, as well as with the various Equestrian scientific journals, but she just couldn’t make herself focus. Every time she tried to write about Nirnwort Fever and Albion Gaze, the evil mage who had cast the sickness on a whole town six hundred years ago, all she could manage to see was Little Cheese’s big emerald eyes. And then she had burst into tears, crawled back to bed, reached for another box of tissues and a romance novel, and the whole cycle had begun again.

After three days of it, she finally felt like she had cried herself out. She was calm. Numb, almost. When she reached for her emotions, she couldn’t identify any. She just…was. She wondered vaguely if she should take advantage of this lull in the storm and try to get a little work done, but she couldn’t find the willpower required to dredge up the strength to move her legs. She just wanted to lie here and think about nothing in particular.

A hesitant knock on the door roused her slightly, and her ears flickered in the sound’s direction. With a grunt of effort, she managed to raise her head enough to turn it to face the door. “Come in.”

Starlight entered, still wearing her headmare’s outfit, her expression hesitant. “Hello, baby,” she said gently, as though Lustre Dawn were still very young.

Lustre didn’t even bother to roll her eyes. “Don’t call me that, Mum.”

“Sorry, sweetie.” Starlight changed her term of endearment without even blinking.

Lustre Dawn groaned. Mothers.

“Little Cheese was at the door all morning,” Starlight said carefully. “Again. Asking to see you.”

Lustre Dawn groaned louder and buried her head beneath the duvet. “Is she gone yet?” She didn’t want to see Little Cheese, didn’t want to see the pity in the yellow mare’s eyes. She didn’t want to hear Little Cheese say it was over. As long as she managed to avoid that finality, it was possible to pretend everything was fine. Just about.

“She only just left. She did say that if you changed your mind and wanted to see her, you can call round to Pinkie Pie’s shop, or she’d be happy to come back here if you preferred.”

Shaking her head vehemently, Lustre recoiled. “No, Mum! She stood me up in front of all my friends! I don’t want to see her.”

Starlight smiled grimly. “She said she thought you’d say that. She had a letter already prepared. Do you want me to put it straight in the fire, sweetie? Or do you want to give it a read?”

Lustre Dawn dropped her head into her hooves and sighed. Was she going to get dumped by letter now instead? This was all so hard. She had never been ghosted on a date before. And she certainly hadn’t expected the pony who had ghosted her to be going to so much effort to break up with her formally. She didn’t know what the protocol was. What was she supposed to do?

Starlight Glimmer sighed too and put a gentle hoof on her daughter’s shoulders. “Listen, Lustre, sweetie…I think you should read it. You were so, so happy when you were dating Little Cheese. I’ve never seen you like anypony so much. And perhaps she has a reasonable explanation. Or she made a mistake. Everypony makes mistakes, don’t they? And everypony deserves a second chance.”

Lustre Dawn sighed. Her mum was right, she knew. Both her mothers had been given second chances, and that was what had led to her. Even she had been given a second chance at friendship, after years of rejecting it. But all that didn’t make this any less difficult.

She took the letter in her magic. The envelope was unaddressed, and simply said ‘To Lustre’. That made sense, since Little Cheese had delivered it by hoof. But the envelope still looked strangely bare.

Carefully, she tore it open, and pulled the letter out. At the edge of her vision, she could see Starlight tactfully withdrawing, shutting the bedroom door behind her, but all Lustre Dawn’s attention was now on the letter she held.

To my dearest Lustre Dawn, it read. If I even have the right to call you that anymore — I hope I do! — I want to apologise, humbly apologise, for missing our date the other day. I know that there can’t really be any excuse for my behaviour and lack of contact after the fact, but please just let me try to explain. I was up all night the day before our date, baking some of my special miniature chocolate cheesecakes for everypony to try. It’s a bit silly, but I really wanted to make a good impression. I wanted to get it right, so I kept on starting over, and I think in hindsight that I bit off more than I could chew. I was banging around in the kitchen at midnight, and Pumpkin came down to see what was wrong. She offered she’d help me, and said she’d show me this new ultra-freeze spell she’s been working on. We tried it out, but…something went wrong. Pumpkin was holding the cheesecakes in her hoof, but she missed them, and hit her hoof instead. I don’t even know how to describe it — it was horrible! Her hoof was all blue, completely frozen solid, and she couldn’t feel it at all.

Lustre Dawn blinked, horrified. All her resentment and confusion was melting away like the snow in spring. She leaned in to continue reading.

I did the only thing I could think to do, and I put her on my back and galloped for the hospital. There wasn’t any time to tell anypony. Pumpkin kept slipping in and out of consciousness — it was just awful. I stayed all night at the hospital, just waiting for news, and then by the time she came back around it was already past the time when I should have met you and your friends. I really am sorry I missed our date, but I hope you can understand why I did.
Missing you,
Little Cheese.

P. S. — Pumpkin is fine now, just in case you’re worried. The damage from the spell wasn’t as terrible as it seemed, and doctors managed to save her hoof. She can’t walk on it for a few weeks, but nothing more serious than that.

Lustre Dawn put the letter down, her heart thudding. How could she have refused to see Little Cheese? She had been so heartless! She’d had no idea that Little Cheese had been fighting for her friend’s life. Just as Lustre would have done if their positions had been reversed, even if she had known how much it would hurt Little Cheese.

She sprang up, throwing the duvet, the tissues and the crumbs onto the floor all in a tangle. At last, the path was clear! There had been no betrayal, no rejection. Little Cheese wasn’t trying to abandon her!

With a single, joyous bound, she was down from the bed and trampling over the rubbish as she pounded towards the doorway.

She had to go to Little Cheese, to let her know she understood. They could be reunited, like nothing had ever gone wrong. And that was the best thing — Lustre gave a little skip as she kicked her way through the double doors and took off down the hallway at a gallop — nothing had gone wrong! It had all just been a silly misunderstanding. They would laugh about this, someday. It would be a funny story they could tell their foals.

Lustre Dawn skidded around the corner and sprinted for the stairs. Her hooves rang like bells against the crystal floor and a wide grin split her face from ear to ear. The sorrow and deadened sensations of the past few days were blown away like the snow in spring.

Skittering to a halt at the top of the stairs, nearly missing her turning, she span and hurtled down them. A pounding on the castle doors made her freeze, ears pricked bolt upright. Little Cheese was back again!

It had to be her. Who else could it be? Lustre Dawn gathered her magic and with a snap of air, teleported herself to the door. There was no longer any time to waste on such petty, earthly affairs as stairs. She looked up at the huge purple door, her pulse racing. She would throw it open, and Little Cheese would immediately be able to see from her expression how sorry she was and how wrong she knew she had been, and they would fall into one another’s arms—

Lustre Dawn flung the door open, her eyes alight, and then screeched to a standstill.

Standing outside was Cozy Glow.

“I— oh!” Lustre Dawn stammered. She recovered herself a little. “Cozy Glow! I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Cozy Glow offered her a slightly forced smile. “Well, I was in town, and I thought I might drop by and see you.”

“Really?” Lustre was flabbergasted.

Even at the dimly-remembered parties she had accompanied her parents to as a foal, thrown by the Council of Friendship for their assorted friends, she could not remember Cozy Glow ever speaking more than perhaps four consecutive words to her. And those were usually “You’re in my way.”

“Yes,” Cozy Glow said shortly, and then sighed and seemingly forced herself to expand on her answer. “Our parents are such good friends, and Mama always speaks so highly of your mother — Starlight Glimmer, I mean — I thought it was about time we got better acquainted. For their sakes.”

“Oh.” Lustre Dawn was still struggling to change gears and wrap her head around all this. Every bone in her body was screaming to her that she needed to go to Little Cheese, to hold her and heal the rift between them. But Twilight would never forgive her if she abandoned a pony in such obvious need of friendship as Cozy Glow.

She fidgeted her hooves. Could her date with destiny (in the form of Little Cheese) wait even a minute longer? But Little Cheese valued friendship just as much as Lustre Dawn did. She had left Lustre Dawn confused and in pain for the sake of a friend. Friendship sometimes demanded sacrifice; Twilight’s stories about the adventures she had gone on with her own friends showed that clearly. Perhaps offering the hoof of friendship to Cozy Glow was the right thing to do. Perhaps this was the course of action Little Cheese would want her to take.

While Lustre Dawn focused on her internal monologue, Cozy Glow had waited with increasing impatience. Finally, she cleared her throat noisily, making Lustre start and look guiltily back to her.

“Or,” Cozy Glow said pointedly, “I could come back another time, as you’re clearly busy.”

“No!” Lustre Dawn said hastily, her decision made. “No. Not after you came all this way.” She stepped back from the door and said a sentence that she had never expected would pass her lips; “Won’t you please come in, Cozy Glow?”

Cozy Glow’s eyes were glued to the board, her every nerve ending alight with anticipation. This was the best game she had played in years. Lustre Dawn was a quick thinker, a strong tactician, an excellent abstractionist. After so many months of stilted, unbearably dull games at the Champion’s Club, against elderly ponies Cozy Glow could have beaten blindfolded and concussed, she finally felt alive.

Lustre Dawn frowned and rubbed her hoof along her chin. Deep in thought. Cozy Glow used the opportunity to study the unsuspecting mare. Peach-pink fur as soft as a whisper. The smooth rounded limbs of a scholar, not an athlete. Big golden eyes that were surprisingly appealing now Cozy Glow actually had the chance to study them in detail. And the long, lustrous mane, all shades of gold and amber carelessly tied back in a ponytail, light bouncing softly off the shining waves. And all topped off with a quick wit, an aptitude for study, and a mind sharp enough to be on the brink of taking Cozy Glow’s lunar princess.

Hmm. Perhaps Lustre Dawn was not the insipid little nerd Cozy had always taken her for.

In the early stages of play Lustre Dawn had seemed a little distracted. She had fidgeted in her chair, looking anxiously at the large clock over the library mantlepiece. But eventually, the insidious spell of the game had drawn her in, calming and focusing her just as it always did for Cozy Glow. She had quietened and leant in to the board, and spoke rarely, focused on her next move. Cozy Glow, in contrast, was focused on Lustre Dawn. She glanced down at the board only occasionally, able as always to calculate almost instinctively the optimal move to make.

She was playing as she normally did. She had never believed in holding back for the sake of an opponent’s feelings; unless of course it was Mama, who only played at all for Cozy Glow’s sake, bless her generous heart. But to her shock, Lustre Dawn was holding her own. She thought for a long time about each option, sometimes mouthing to herself and gently touching different pieces as she assessed her options, but she was still holding her own. And against Equestria’s finest chess player — Cozy Glow did not believe in false modesty — that was no mean feat.

Lustre Dawn, with a little hum of satisfaction, moved her pegasus knight in to engage. Cozy Glow’s mind scrolled through the options available to her. Save the lunar princess, at the expense of both her own unicorn mages and a knight. Sacrifice the lunar princess, and take the pegasus with a unicorn mage. Or abandon the lunar princess and the mages, and try to slip her earth pony warrior behind Lustre Dawn’s defences while her attention was elsewhere.

Cozy Glow felt a little thrill of excitement. For the first time in Princesses knew how long, she was actually playing. More than simply going through the motions to add another joyless victory notch to her belt.

She made her decision and sent in a celestial bishop to support her earth pony warriors. Let the lunar princess fall for the greater good, as was her duty.

Lustre Dawn’s eyes flashed with triumph and she moved her knight onto the lunar princess’ square. Her horn glowed and she lifted the little alicorn piece into the air and placed it beside the board. Finally, she leaned back in her chair with a satisfied air. “I didn’t think I’d be able to do that,” she said conversationally. “I’ve heard stories about how good you are at chess. Auntie Rarity never stops talking about you, you know.”

“Really?” Cozy Glow laughed a little, the first genuine laugh in what felt like a long time. “What does she say about me?”

Lustre Dawn smiled and shrugged. “What does any mother say about their daughter? Praise upon praise; I know mine are the same. But Rarity really loves you — she tells everypony about your court cases when you win too.”

Cozy Glow snickered. “Well, I don’t often lose.”

Though she looked a little surprised at that, Lustre Dawn made no comment. Cozy Glow frowned slightly. Perhaps she was being too candid. Not modest enough. Possibly time to reel it in a little bit.

She used a wing feather to push an earth pony warrior forward again. The solar princess was almost in reach.

Lustre Dawn grinned, clearly seeing the threat, and leant over the board to consider her options. Her hair fell forward across her face and she shoved it impatiently out of the way; an oddly charming, unguarded gesture. Cozy Glow was surprised by how appealing she found it.

On second thoughts…perhaps there was room for just a little more candour.

She toyed with the fallen lunar princess piece. “Well, I was wondering, actually…if you’d like to meet with me again?”

Lustre Dawn looked up from the game, blinking in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Cozy Glow swallowed hard, but summoned her courage. She pulled her usual sardonic smile back onto her muzzle. “Auntie Tia, as she likes to be called, has done sweet buck-all for my love life. So I thought I’d give the old do-it-yourself method a go.”

Lustre Dawn stopped short, her hoof hovering above the board, whatever move she had been about to make forgotten.

Cozy Glow leaned forward, her pulse suddenly thudding loudly in her ears. Her eyes flickered nervously over the other mare’s face, searching for any sign of emotion.

“Well,” Lustre Dawn hesitated. “I’m flattered, Cozy Glow, really, but—”

“—I could take you on a hot air balloon ride,” Cozy offered hastily, not quite wanting to hear the end of that sentence. “I know a really lovely spot in the mountains.”

Lustre Dawn lowered her hooves back into her lap. “I’m flattered, but I’m already — Auntie Tia matched me up with Little Cheese, and I’m…I’m very fond of her.” She blushed prettily.

An ugly red flush spread over Cozy’s own muzzle. “Oh. I see.” She looked back down at the chess board. Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinised the pieces, and she let her heavy curls fall across her eyes. What an idiot she had been.

“I’m really sorry, Cozy Glow,” Lustre Dawn sounded genuinely apologetic, and that made Cozy all the angrier. “If I weren’t already…I would absolutely have accepted.” That bit sounded much less genuine. “But perhaps we could still go on a trip together, or for a meal…as friends? Twilight always says friendships can grow out of the strangest of places.”

Cozy Glow’s teeth came together with an audible snap. Twilight Sparkle. Of all the names to have mentioned now. She loathed the sickeningly pure Princess; so twee and trite that every single one of the sheep-brained idiots masquerading as ponies in Equestria had bought into the garbage she peddled — lock stock and barrel.

“Or you could come back next week, maybe, for another game of chess?” Lustre tried again, pushing one of her pawns forward a square as she did so. “I’d be happy—”

“Checkmate,” Cozy snarled, her voice as cold as ice. She pushed her celestial bishop into place, and in the same motion reached across the board to flick Lustre Dawn’s solar princess onto its side.

Lustre Dawn flinched at the harsh clatter of the pieces.

“Less than forty moves to beat you,” Cozy Glow spat. “I think you should study up on your chess theory a little, Princess Lustre Dawn.”

Lustre Dawn recoiled from the vitriol in Cozy Glow’s voice, but Cozy was beyond caring. She shoved her chair back and took wing, hovering for a second to look down at Lustre with disgust. “I wouldn’t waste my time on a second game with you if you were the last pony in Equestria.”

Then she darted for the double doors. She flung them open before her and they crashed against the crystal walls. A couple of left turns, and Cozy Glow was back in the main atrium. She didn’t bother with the enormous front entrance, but flew straight for one of the large open windows. In seconds, she was outside, beating her way skywards, heading for the nearest cloud cover that would block the repulsive little town of Ponyville from her vision once and for all. Canterlot might be bigoted and awful, but at least they didn’t pretend to welcome you in before they turned on you. No, she would never return to this dreadful backwater town. Next time Aunt Fluttershy wanted to see her, she could bloody well come to Canterlot instead.

Chapter 21

Lustre looked up at the receding blue and pink shape, and shook her head in amazement. What had that been all about? She had barely spoken to Cozy Glow in her life, and all of a sudden she was turning up, asking her out, and then fleeing the scene like a criminal? What a bizarre series of events; her friends would never believe it.

But she didn’t have overlong to dwell on it. A glance at the clock on the mantlepiece was enough to show her that it was nearly eleven; far too late! Little Cheese had dropped off the letter hours ago. The stars above only knew what she must be thinking; perhaps she thought that Lustre had received the letter but still refused to see her. An unbearable possibility — Lustre Dawn shoved back her chair and made for the doors. Unmolested this time by unwanted visitors, she set off at a tearing gallop for the Party Emporium.

She thundered down the road towards Ponyville, and a flock of startled ducks took noisy flight at her approach. Quacking angrily, they beat their way across the sky towards Auntie Fluttershy’s animal sanctuary. Lustre Dawn turned her head to watch them go, almost missed her footing and had to stagger to stay on her feet. She recovered, set her jaw, and increased her pace again. Nothing would stop her this time.

She was panting by the time she reached the outskirts of town, her flanks heaving with exertion. A couple of ponies glanced at her in passing concern, and one called out to her.

“Are you alright, Lustre Dawn?”

Lustre Dawn hardly spared her a glance. She focused all her efforts on trying to regain her breath enough to trot again. “I’m fine, Bon Bon! Thanks for asking!”

“No marauding monsters we should be worried about?”

Startled, Lustre Dawn looked properly at the ageing yellow mare for the first time. “What? No, I don’t think so.”

Bon Bon waved her onwards, and turned back to her green-furred wife. “Carry on, then! It just took me back, seeing you come tearing up the road from the Princess’ castle like that.”

Lustre didn’t bother to reply again and after a few more shallow pants, recovered herself enough to start in the direction Pinkie Pie’s shop. Nopony else questioned her red face and sweaty mess of a mane, for which she was grateful. No one could be anonymous in a small town like Ponyville, especially somepony with parents as famous as hers were, but it was nice to pretend; even if only for a moment.

The gravel of the road was sharp beneath her hooves, and she heard her pulse echoing in her ears. Pinkie Pie’s Party Emporium stretched lurid and pink above her. For a moment it seemed to swim before Lustre Dawn’s vision, a vast fuchsia monolith with no beginning and no end — but Lustre shook her head hard enough to clear it, and the shop was normal once again. She was just very, very tired all of a sudden.

Lustre Dawn sucked in air through her teeth and tried to stand up as straight as she could. She knew she must look a fright after her madcap gallop through town, but there was no fixing that now. And hopefully Little Cheese, of all ponies, would be able to see past it. Nevertheless, Lustre ran a quick hoof through her mane, trying to smooth it, and scrubbed at her forehead with one foreleg to wipe away the sweat. Then she took one more breath, and pushed open the door.

Inside the emporium, the air was quiet and still. Peace reigned for once in the land of party poppers and confetti. Cannons and musical instruments lay silent, and after the glaring light of the midmorning sun, Lustre Dawn struggled at first to see much in the sudden gloom.

Auntie Pinkie was nowhere in sight. Lustre Dawn made her way forward carefully nonetheless. Many was the time she had walked into a room empty of her aunt, only to be scared half out of her wits by the shrill scream of “Surprise!”

A small brass bell winked invitingly on the counter. Lustre Dawn made her way over to it and inhaled deeply once again to steady her nerves. The shop smelled of vanilla cupcakes and strawberry ice cream. Lustre Dawn shut her eyes for half a second and tried, not for the first time, to think of the right words to say. What speech could she compose that would heal the rift between her and Little Cheese? What words were the right words?

Perhaps there were none. Perhaps this was something that she couldn’t plan. Maybe when she looked into Little Cheese’s emerald eyes…she would just know what to say.

Her hoof came down on the bell.

A little ‘ting!’ rang out, echoing in the gloom. A moment of silence followed. The fur on Lustre Dawn’s back stood on end and she peered around with wide white eyes. She could see nothing. The shop was as still and quiet as the grave.

A hoof fell heavily onto her back. “Hi!”

Lustre Dawn flinched and squeaked in fright at the sudden breaking of the hush. She spun around, and came nose to nose with Pinkie Pie. Pinkie’s muzzle split into a grin. “Lustre Dawn! It’s been ages since you came by!”

Lustre Dawn summoned up her best smile, though she was beginning to feel a little shaky. What if it somehow all went wrong, and Little Cheese rejected her?

“You’re here to see Little Cheese again, I bet,” Pinkie Pie said cheerily, producing a small slice of victoria sponge cake from her mane and offering it to Lustre. “After the last time you came when she wasn’t here and you thought she’d abandoned you but really she was galloping super duper fast to the hospital with Pumpkin Cake on her back—”

“—Is she here, Auntie?” Lustre Dawn interrupted, gently but firmly pushing Pinkie’s proffered cake away.

Pinkie cheerfully returned it to the voluminous folds of her mane. “Yeppers! I know for sure this time! She’s around here somewhere…” She folded her forelegs and tapped a hind hoof. “I just gotta remember where I put her. Oh! I know!” She skipped back to her feet and bounced over to a stack of beach balls. “Is she under here?”

Pinkie cheerfully bucked the pyramid of beach balls, which collapsed spectacularly.

“Nope!”

Lustre Dawn raised a hoof to defend herself from the onslaught of tumbling rubber.

“How about in my Easy Bake Confetti Cake Mini-cannon?” Pinkie was suddenly nose to nose with Lustre, a tiny pink cannon to balanced on one hoof, raised exactly to Lustre’s eye level.

“Auntie, I don’t think—” Lustre knew even as she spoke that it was too late.

Blam!

“Nope! Not here either!”

Lustre Dawn wiped cake batter out of her eyes and slopped it from her hoof onto the ground. So much for looking presentable. “Auntie Pinkie, please—”

“I’ve got it!” Pinkie Pie carolled, and Lustre Dawn looked up in trepidation to see the pink form of her aunt balanced precariously atop a huge blue party cannon. “I left her in the Megablast Party Cannon 3000!”

“Don’t set it off!” Lustre Dawn cried, and dove for the dubious shelter of the counter. When she peeked back out, she registered with relief that Pinkie Pie had not ignited the fuse. Instead, she was halfway inside it, rooting around, small grunts of effort emanating from its barrel.

“Got her!” Pinkie Pie’s voice echoed shrilly. Her hind legs kicked wildly, and then she surged backwards out of the cannon. Borne triumphantly above her head in both hooves was a very bewildered Little Cheese.

Lustre Dawn gasped and scrambled out from behind the counter, shaking the last remnants of cake from her forelock.

Pinkie Pie set her daughter down with exaggerated care. “There you go, my best little baby!”

Little Cheese sighed and brushed a few confetti sprinkles off her flank. “We talked about this, Mum. When you want me to come out of my room, just knock.”

Lustre Dawn peered past Little Cheese into the dark recess of the cannon. It was not at all large enough to have held a full grown pony. This was not at all surprising; Lustre Dawn had read all six of Princess Twilight’s papers on Pinkie Pie’s strange abilities, and this was entirely in line with her findings. Nonetheless, the Princess would be interested, and Lustre Dawn made a mental note to pass on the intelligence next time she saw her mentor.

Thinking about such mundanities as her studies with the Princess soothed her jangled nerves just enough that when Little Cheese finally noticed her, she didn’t immediately break and run.

“Hi,” she said limply, trying to strike a casual note.

“Lustre Dawn!” Little Cheese’s tone was anything but casual. Ignoring her mother now, she hurried through the wasteland of cake mixture and beach balls to Lustre’s side. She half-raised her hoof, but let it fall back to her side. “I— it’s good to see you.” Then she was silent, watching Lustre Dawn with those huge green eyes, clearly waiting for her to speak.

Lustre Dawn swallowed. “I got your letter.”

Hope bloomed in Little Cheese’s eyes. “Then you—?”

Lustre Dawn nodded, her own eyes suddenly filling with tears. “I understand now. I’m really sorry, Little Cheese.”

Little Cheese sniffed hard. “No, I’m sorry! I really—”

Lustre Dawn leaned forward and opened her forelegs wide and Little Cheese copied her movements. Sobbing, they both fell forward into one another’s arms and held one another close. Lustre buried her head in Little Cheese’s silky mane and wept. She breathed in as hard as she could, determined to commit that buttery, chocolatey scent to memory forever. She would never forget this moment.

A slight scuffling noise behind Little Cheese drew Lustre’s attention, and she looked up just in time to see Auntie Pinkie striking a match near the fuse of the huge party cannon.

She opened her mouth to shout a warning, but it was already far too late.

Chapter 22

“Mum?”

Rainbow Dash looked up from her desk. The huge stack of exam papers waiting to be graded sprawled over the entire right half of the table. Her little pile of completed papers, underlined and written all over in her untidy red scrawl, looked pitifully small in comparison.

Zap Apple stood in the doorway, his long orange-and-green mane falling into his eyes as always. “Can I talk to you?”

“Of course, kiddo.” Rainbow gladly let fall the paper she had been about to read. Marking all those endless essays on flight theory was definitely the very worst part of being a professor. If it were up to her, she would have assessed all her students through practical skill only, but the Dean was very firm that her class had to have at least one exam a year.

Zap Apple came into the room, and propelled himself with a flap of his wings onto the window seat. He settled himself into the cushions, and propped one hoof onto the windowsill. Rainbow expected him to tell her what was on his mind — Zaps was usually such a forthright colt — but he stayed quiet.

Rainbow Dash pushed her chair back and stood. She walked over to him, and rested a hoof on his shoulder. Even though he was sitting, she had to look up at him. It had been that way for years now, of course — but somehow, it still surprised her every time. She still thought of him as her little boy, even though he was a stallion as large as she was and nearly half as big again.

She looked up into his faraway pink eyes, an exact copy of her own, and felt her heart constrict a little. No matter how big Zap Apple got, he would always be her kid.

“What’s wrong, buddy?”

Zap Apple looked down at her at last, and let out a long and heavy breath. “I’ve been thinking.”

He fell silent again, and Rainbow Dash decided to take a stab at guessing what the issue was. “About Leaftail?” She had always known Zaps was a surprisingly quiet and sensitive soul for saying he was her and AJ’s son, but she hadn’t expected him to take each romantic rejection so hard. When the years kept slipping by and Zaps still hadn’t introduced anypony special to them, and Applejack had suggested involving Auntie Tia, Rainbow had agreed; not because she was as concerned about grandfoals as Applejack was, but because she had wanted to ease that quiet, pervasive air of loneliness that seemed to dog her son’s steps wherever he went. But it seemed that Auntie Tia’s services were having the opposite effect. After every failed match, Zap Apple seemed a little sadder, a little more withdrawn.

“No,” Zap Apple answered, surprising her.

“What then?”

“I’ve been thinking about…about Dust Devil, actually.” Zap Apple’s voice was quiet, and he was gazing out at the orchards again.

After a moment’s reflection, Rainbow Dash hopped up onto the window seat beside him. It seemed like he had a lot weighing on his mind, and she wanted to take her time and make sure she got this discussion right. She followed his eyes out over the fields. Applejack was in the southwest orchard today, getting in the last of the Red Delicious crop.

“What about Dust Devil?” She kept her voice carefully neutral. She couldn’t deny that when Zaps had first told her his date with Lightning Dust’s daughter had been a failure, her initial emotional response had been glee. But then she had watched him disconsolately wander the house for days afterwards, moping over this filly Rainbow had never even met, and her feelings had softened. Dust Devil was probably nothing like her mother. Hopefully. Surely nopony could be quite as bad as Lightning Dust. Certainly nopony that elicited such sadness in a stallion as sweet as Zap Apple — but then again, who but a monster could reject a stallion as sweet as Zap Apple? In the end, Rainbow Dash had concluded that it didn’t truly matter whether Dust Devil was like her mother or not; the date had been an utter failure and it was certain that her name would never be mentioned again.

Until now, it would seem.

Zap Apple rested his head against the window pane and let it slide down until it rested atop his hoof. “I don’t know. I’ve just been…thinking about her.”

“You really enjoyed that date with her, huh?” Rainbow rubbed his shoulder sympathetically.

He nodded. “Yeah. Until the end bit of it, I mean. Princess Celestia talked about how important it is that you go for personality and not…other stuff. And Dust Devil…I liked her the most out of any of the ponies I was matched with.”

Rainbow Dash tried not to smile. Zap Apple had only been matched with three ponies. What would he think if he could have seen a line-up of all the ponies she had dated before Applejack?

“You could always ask Auntie Tia to arrange a few more,” she suggested delicately. “Play the field a bit.”

Zap Apple sighed and shook his head. “I don’t think that feels right. I don’t want to swamp myself with options until they all become meaningless.” Seeing that Rainbow was about to object, he raised a hoof to stop her before continuing. “And it’s more than that. It’s Dust Devil in particular. I just…I had a connection with her.” He sighed and rubbed at his forehead. “Even when she rejected me, she wasn’t cruel. She was…honest. I think that’s important.”

Rainbow Dash chuckled. Applejack would be proud. “You know, you’re just like your mum sometimes, buddy.”

Zap Apple perked up a little. “Tell me about you and Mum. How did you know she was the one for you?”

Rainbow Dash let her hoof fall from Zap Apple’s shoulder as she leaned back against the glass. She chewed at her lip a little as she considered. “Well, we were friends for a long time before we were ever together. Ten years, before we even thought about it.”

“What changed?”

“It’s hard to put my hoof on it. Our bond was always a little bit different than my friendship with the rest of the girls. They support me, and I support them. We’d do anything for each other, and they’re all like my sisters.”

“And Mum?”

“Well,” Rainbow Dash smiled a little, slightly embarrassed, “I think the real difference is that I could compete with her. I could really let loose when I was with her, give it my all and know that she’d do the same.”

Zap Apple looked away from the orchards and into her eyes for the first time. He offered her a small smile, and Rainbow Dash felt her heart constrict with love in just the same way it had when he had given her the gift of his very first toothless smile.

“Yeah, that does sound like you two.”

“Some of the happiest times I ever spent were racing against AJ,” Rainbow said fondly. “And then I realised that when your mum beat me, it didn’t make me angry, or even make me want to beat her next time. I was glad she put up a fight; that she was better than me sometimes. Seeing her win was somehow even more fun than winning myself.”

An undignified snort of laughter from Zap Apple made her jump. She grinned and gave him a playful shove. “What?”

“I just can’t quite imagine you ever enjoying losing, Mum.”

Rainbow’s mouth quirked. “Yeah, it only ever happens with two ponies.”

“Mum, and…?”

“You, you big doofus.” Rainbow nudged him again, and his muzzle split in a proper smile. Rainbow internally hoof-bumped herself. Look at her, successfully cheering him up. Even after all these years, she was still fricking nailing this parenting stuff.

“Anyway,” she sighed, leaning back against the wall once more, “As the years passed, we just got closer and closer. We spent more time together, and there was one summer in particular where I realised I just couldn’t get enough of her company. I was spending whole days down here mucking out the pigs and Celestia knows what else, just so that she’d be done faster and able to come for a run with me.” She smiled at the memory. “I felt pretty guilty about it at first, actually. I thought I was choosing AJ as a best friend, and that made me feel like cow dung. I wanted to be true to all my friends, not pick one above the others.”

“And when did you realise it was…more than that?”

Rainbow’s cheeks warmed. She remembered the moment with perfect clarity. “When we did our own private running of the leaves here at Sweet Apple Acres,” she told him. “Ponyville’s running was the week before, and we’d tied for first place. So we decided to have a rematch; Applejack needed to get the leaves off the apple trees anyway.”

Zap Apple’s eyebrows climbed and he glanced out at the ocean of treetops beyond the window. “All this, just the two of you?”

Rainbow smirked. “You know it. We even sent Apple Bloom and Big Mac packing so they couldn’t help us. We wanted a totally fair match.”

“So what happened?”

“Your mum kicked my ass, is what happened. We spent hours galloping all over the orchards, trying to get all the trees, and by the end of it I was totally bushed. I think AJ was too, but we were both trying not to show it. I was just stumbling along after her by the time we got to the finish line, practically crawling. And she crossed the line, and flopped down, and then she saw me dragging myself along and came running right back to lend me a hoof. And I looked at her and I realised what all those feelings I’d been having were. And I kissed her.”

Letting out a soft whoosh of air, Zap Apple turned back to the window. “And that was it? You just knew, after that?”

Rainbow Dash lifted one side of her mouth in a wry smile and reached out to ruffle his mane. “Course not, kid. Relationships are tough. You can’t really just ‘know’ anything.We spent months figuring out what the heck we were doing and what we wanted. We spent years dating each other. Then we got married, and eventually we had you and our little family was whole. But we certainly didn’t know what we wanted straight away. Each step took a lot of thinking.”

She followed his gaze out over the trees and up to the cerulean expanse of the sky. She had given up her beloved cloud-house to live with Applejack, exactly the type of ground-bound pegasus she’d once sworn she would never become, but she’d never regretted it. Applejack was worth every second of it.

Her eyes drifted back to Zap Apple, and she thought affectionately of when he was a foal. So small, with his stubby little wings and massive eyes and gap-toothed grin. She had never thought she’d be a maternal sort of mare, but family was so hugely important to Applejack that she’d decided to give it a shot.

They had been supremely lucky they lived near a hospital with such expert fertility doctors, and even luckier that Applejack had a brother willing to donate sperm. Not many lesbian couples could say their child belonged to both of them genetically. There had been drawbacks, of course; their choice meant that Rainbow had to be the one to carry the foal, rather than Applejack, which had always been their plan. While having Applejack waiting on her hoof and mouth for eleven months had been pretty sweet, being too fat and heavy to get off the ground by the later stages had been one of the toughest experiences of her life. She couldn’t stand to be grounded.

But in the end, their awesome little dude had been worth it. With Applejack’s pluck and her love of the air, he was the perfect combination, with both of their best qualities and more besides. Teaching him to fly would always be one of Rainbow’s most treasured memories.

“Dust Devil wanted kids, right?” she asked. “Do you…think you might ever, with the right pony?”

Zap Apple frowned and shook his head. “I don’t know!” He threw his hooves up. “How is anypony meant to know when they’re ready for something like that?”

“You can’t know,” Rainbow Dash said hastily, reaching for his hoof. He let her take it, and she held him gratefully. “Like I said before. I didn’t know if I wanted foals when AJ and I started dating.”

He glanced up with renewed interest. “You didn’t?”

“Course not,” Rainbow said. She gave a sheepish grin. “I wasn’t exactly a very responsible pony when I was your age.”

“That’s exactly it,” Zap Apple answered. “I just feel like…I’ve barely started being an adult, you know? How can I tell what I want to do?”

Rainbow Dash tried to think back to what had cemented her decision. Applejack had always known she wanted foals, in some form, whether it was bio or adopted. Rainbow hadn’t been able to commit to much more than that she loved Applejack, and would try her best to be open to anything AJ wanted. And that had been good enough for Applejack for many years, until they were talking seriously about marriage. She had asked Rainbow for a firmer answer, and Rainbow had done her best to oblige. She had borrowed baby Apple Tart for the day — Sugar Belle and Big Mac had been glad of the break — and had tried to imagine he was hers.

Cleaning up vomit and changing nappies had been rough, and it had seemed like fluid was always coming out of one of Tartie’s many orifices. Rainbow had been a wreck by the end of that day, distraught both at the endless wailing, and at the prospect of having to tell Applejack she didn’t share her deepest and most treasured dream, no matter what that might mean for their relationship.

But then, finally, with half an hour left to go, Apple Tart had looked up at her and given her a little baby smile that dimpled his cheeks in the exact same way as Applejack’s, and something had shifted in Rainbow’s heart. A little baby Applejack, that would belong to her in the same way that AJ did. If it was something that was important to Applejack…well, she would do anything for her marefriend. Why not this, too?

And when Zaps had arrived, and looked up at her with her own big pink eyes, her heart had melted. While it was definitely true that she’d let Applejack take on the lion’s share of the nappies, she had grown to love her little dude more than she’d ever believed possible.

“Sometimes you can’t tell what you want until you have it,” she answered him at last. “And then you can look at it, and think: yeah, this is it.” She released his hoof and stood up. “Just ask yourself this — is she a pony that you could love?”

Zap Apple hung his head so that his hair hid his expression. “All I know is I want to see her again. I can’t stop thinking about her.”

Rainbow Dash smiled. “That sounds a lot like love to me.”

Chapter 23

By the time the huge mounds of confetti and glitter were swept up, it was almost lunch time. Lustre Dawn, hugely reassured by an hour spent companionably working a broom beside Little Cheese, felt confident in suggesting a continuation of the delayed seventh date.

Yurik had returned to Yakyakistan, of course. He had moved home after they all graduated from the School of Friendship, and still worked in his family’s cargo-hauling business, pulling sleds up and down the mountain. He could only get the train down to Ponyville on special occasions.

But Carrot Bran and Grayson lived in Ponyville with Carrot Bran’s widowed father, and Leaftail’s adventure tour business was also based in town. Lustre Dawn was relatively hopeful that they’d all be free for lunch.

Little Cheese agreed enthusiastically to the plan. “That sounds great! I don’t have any cheesecakes prepared this time…but given how that went last time, maybe that’s for the best.” She shot Lustre Dawn a mischievous grin, and Lustre Dawn giggled along with her.

The two mares trotted out of Pinkie’s emporium flank to flank, with Pinkie Pie waving a noisy goodbye behind them.

Carrot Bran’s home was the closest, and it took no more than a few minutes to reach the friendly orange-painted door. Lustre Dawn raised a hoof to knock. Little Cheese leaned lightly against her, and the warm contact of fur on fur was enough to set Lustre’s heart racing.

The sound of fumbling keys came from behind the door, and it swung open to reveal Grayson. His black feathers were slightly more rumpled than normal, and he blinked at the daylight. “Oh. Hey, Lustre Dawn.” His eyes widened a little. “And Little Cheese! Hi.”

He glanced at Lustre Dawn for guidance, and she beamed at him and raised her eyebrows, trying to signal to him that everything was back on track.

He caught her meaning and smiled warmly at them both. “Do you guys want to come in?” He stepped back, claws scraping softly on the stone flags, and ushered them both in ahead of him.

Little Cheese walked carefully past with the polite air of somepony visiting a new acquaintance for the first time, but Lustre Dawn had no such limitations. She paused as she passed to smooth Grayson’s crest feathers back into place. “Did we wake you or something?”

He batted her hooves away, but not hard. “Yes, actually. Carrot Bran and Root are out back planting something in the vegetable garden and I was taking advantage of the rare opportunity to have a lie in.”

Once Little Cheese was safely through the door to the living room, Lustre Dawn hastily swung back to Grayson, grabbed his talons and grinned at him in delight.

He smiled back, shaking off the last vestiges of sleep, and pulled her into a quick hug. “So you’re back together?”

“Yes!” Lustre Dawn hissed, nearly bouncing with excitement. “It’s a long story, but it was all a misunderstanding!”

“I knew it!” He fist-pumped. “No one could ghost you! You’re too dang special.”

Lustre Dawn squeezed him in a hug one last time and hurried through the doorway after Little Cheese. Little Cheese had seated herself on one of the plush umber settees, and Lustre hopped up beside her. Grayson busied himself in fetching them coffee and some biscuits, and vanished for a moment into the garden. He returned with a muddy Carrot Bran close behind him, smiling widely at the sight of Lustre Dawn and Little Cheese together.

“It’s so great to see you both,” he enthused, coming in for a hug but checking himself when Lustre Dawn pulled a face at the dirt on his fur. “Oh yeah, of course. Sorry about that. I always forget!”

“We want to do that lunch together that we talked about a couple of weeks ago,” Lustre said without preamble. Her face almost ached from smiling so much, but she was too happy to stop.

“Sure,” Carrot Bran agreed easily. “Give me half an hour to clean up and we can meet you down at the Hayseed.”

“It’s a shame Yurik won’t be able to join us,” Grayson said, re-emerging from the kitchen with more coffee for Carrot Bran. “And do you guys know where Leaftail is working today?”

“I think she said she might be taking a group out to the lake,” Carrot Bran answered. “Or just heading over there herself if she couldn’t find any customers.”

Lustre Dawn harrumphed her disappointment. “It’s going to be a long walk over there to get her.”

“Fear not,” Grayson declared, striking a theatrical pose that set Carrot Bran snickering with laughter. “I can fly over there in half the time and let her know.”

Lustre Dawn shot a glance at Little Cheese, who was giggling behind her hoof at Grayon’s dramatics, and relaxed into a smile herself. “That’d be great, Grayson. But either way, it’s going to be a good couple of hours before she can make it back on hoof.”

“Then I’d better get going,” Grayson shrugged. He stood, gulped the remnants of his coffee, and leaned in to nuzzle Carrot Bran’s muddy nose. “I’ll see you later, you gross stallion.” He turned to Lustre Dawn and Little Cheese. “Ladies, shall we say three o’ clock at the diner for a late lunch?”

“Sounds good!” Lustre Dawn spoke at the same time as Little Cheese, and the simple act of speaking in unison and building shared plans made a lovely warmth spread through in her stomach. This is how it begins, she thought. We’re building a future together.

She watched Little Cheese as she chatted with Carrot Bran, laughing at his attempts at humour, and felt the warmth spread up through her chest and along her limbs. Little Cheese was so beautiful, so confident and at home with Lustre’s friends. It was like she’d known them all her life. Lustre Dawn looked at the little yellow mare and her candyfloss mane, and knew with a certainty so strong it shocked her, that this was the pony she wanted. This one was the right one; this one was hers.

Chapter 24

Celestia was having a pleasantly quiet morning. Not one, but two couples had told her that very morning that they had made their choices and were ready to tie the knot. She had spent a very satisfying two hours finalising their files and moving them out of her cabinet of active clients. She loved this part of the process; after all the disappointments, frustrations, and failed matches, when she managed to introduce her little ponies to the one that they wanted, and they were able to spread their wings and fly away from her services together. It was the most rewarding part of her job.

She had just floated the files into the in-tray in Raven Inkwell’s office, ready for her to record in Celestia’s private records, when she heard the outer door bang open. Celestia frowned. Who could that be? Her next appointment was not due for another hour.

She returned her attention momentarily to the files. Two wonderful pairs of ponies, well matched both in temperament and in their goals. The families supported the matches, and the wedding dates would be set soon. Celestia thought eagerly of the two wedding invitations that would surely be in the post soon. She loved weddings, loved them with a passion. There was nothing that could match the aura of hope and optimism that pervaded the wedding of a happy couple with a bright future ahead of them. Celestia had attended weddings beyond count over her countless centuries on Equus, and had participated in a few dozen of her own. But each occasion was unique, a wonderful shining day that would never be repeated, and they were the one type of party that she never tired of.

She heard the door slam shut again, and the thud of angry hooves on the floor.

“Celestia!” A furious voice rang out, and Celestia’s cheerful mood evaporated as quickly as the dew on a summer morning. She knew exactly who that voice belonged to.

Almost reluctantly, she moved towards the door that connected her office to Raven’s. She was equipped with a solution to this particular problem — finally — but she still took no pleasure in the prospect of facing it.

She paused before the door, drew herself up to her full height, and took in one last calming breath. She schooled her face into a calm and welcoming smile, and slowly opened the door.

The pony standing in her office, wings flared aggressively, swung baleful blood-red eyes towards her.

Celestia spoke first, her tone as gracious as if it were Twilight herself come to visit. “Cozy Glow. How lovely. I was planning to write to you today to ask you to visit me. Won’t you take a seat?”

Cozy Glow jerked her gaze away. “I will not.”

Celestia’s eyes widened slightly, but she only dipped her head in assent. “…Very well. I do have a new matter to discuss with you, Cozy Glow, but it appears that you have something else on your mind?”

Cozy Glow’s face twisted into an ugly scowl. “You could say that.”

“Would you like to tell me what is wrong?” Celestia always strove for patience and tolerance, but sometimes it was a challenge to meet one’s own high standards.

Those red eyes locked onto hers once more. Cozy Glow’s peach flanks heaved with exertion. She had clearly flown hard. “I’ve come to tell you exactly what I think of you.”

Celestia swallowed and slowly settled herself into her armchair. As covertly as she could, she lit her horn with the spell to check for any magical threats close by. She could detect nothing, and let out a breath that she had inadvertently been holding. Cozy Glow did not have any amulets or ancient artefacts on her. She was simply a very angry pegasus.

As the magic faded, a feeling of guilt overtook Celestia. Everypony was entitled to feel their emotions, even somepony who had once made…questionable moral choices. She owed it to all her little ponies to hear them out. Even if they were not fond of her. Even if she was not fond of them. She shouldn’t be checking Cozy Glow for weapons; Cozy’s decades of normal participation in civic life had earned her that much at least.

“Please, Cozy Glow,” she said, as softly as she could, “Go ahead. I am listening.”

“I think you and your arranged marriage service are full of manure,” Cozy Glow spat. “Your ideals are flawed — you push ponies together with no regard for the consequences. You promise to be everypony’s auntie and help us all, but you’re still just the same old Princess Celestia, passing judgement on us little mortals from your lofty perch. I think you promise to find ponies love, when all you can offer is rejection after rejection after rejection!” She stopped, her chest rising and falling hard, and Celestia was shocked to see those red eyes glittering with moisture.

“Cozy Glow, I—” she began, but Cozy didn’t let her finish.

“Mama promised me that if anypony could help me find someone who could love me it was you. That you cared about all of us, even ponies like me. With my history. But all you’ve given me is the matches that you think will hurt me the most!”

Celestia looked at that sad little pink figure, and for the first time her heart went out to Cozy Glow. She had been a monster, it was true. Perhaps she still was. But she was a monster shaped by Celestia’s own ponies and the world she had built, and despite everything, she felt for her.

Cozy Glow looked down, fighting with furious tears, and Celestia took the opportunity to speak. “That was never my intention, Cozy Glow. I promise you that I am truly sorry if the ponies that I matched you with wounded you. I was doing my best to meet the criteria that you and Rarity gave me.”

Cozy Glow’s eyes flashed again. “It’s all just lies. Family, love, friendship! It’s all made up! It’s a currency that you ponies in power hoard to yourselves, and you leave the rest of us out in the cold!” She showed Celestia her teeth, a rictus grin of desperate hunger. “Nopony has ever offered me so much as a hoof-full of kindness but Mama. The rest of you have just done your best to trample me into the dirt!”

Celestia’s brows came together in a frown of concern, but she held her tongue. Cozy Glow clearly needed to have her say.

“Equestria isn’t a fair place to live — its all about magic,” Cozy Glow continued, pacing back and forth as she spoke. “Nopony wants you unless you can do magic, unless you’re good and kind and magical enough to meet all these invisible criteria that no pony ever warns you about — not until it’s too late!”

Celestia reached out a hoof to Cozy Glow. An offer of reconciliation. “I am sorry for my part in what has happened to you, Cozy. I can promise you that I mean that.”

Cozy Glow stared at the hoof as though it were a poisonous snake. “How could I ever believe you?”

Lowering her hoof, Celestia ventured one more question. “Has anything in particular happened that has made you feel this way, Cozy Glow?”

Cozy Glow snorted. “My entire life, Princess.” But her bravado was less convincing now; her feathers trembled, and Celestia knew that she was close to breaking through. Cozy Glow was like a balloon with almost all the air gone.

“I mean…recently,” Celestia persisted. “Since we last met, perhaps.”

Cozy Glow suddenly wilted all at once, sinking to her haunches and drawing in on herself until she resembled the sweet little foal that had taken in poor Twilight Sparkle. “Fine,” she said, in a small voice. “Yes. Something did.”

Celestia slid off the edge of her chair and cautiously — moving as slowly and carefully as if Cozy Glow were a hungry manticore — cautiously edged closer. “Would you like to tell me what it was?”

Cozy Glow’s ringlets quivered, and then to Celestia’s shock, a tear ran down her muzzle. It fell with a fat plop to the ground, and Celestia stared at it, stunned. A second followed it, and a third, and then Celestia recovered herself and hastened forward.

As she reached the pegasus’ side, Cozy Glow instinctively shied away, her face twisting into a grimace. Celestia ignored it all — as well as her own private misgivings — and enfolded Cozy in her wings, like she would a foal. To her surprise, Cozy Glow made no attempt to push her away, and finally leaned in a little and allowed herself to weep in earnest.

Celestia made small soothing sounds in her throat and let the filly cry. She wondered if she should perhaps attempt to stroke Cozy’s hair, but decided against it. She wasn’t altogether sure she would escape with her hoof unbitten if she pushed Cozy Glow too far.

“It’s just—” Cozy Glow sniffed noisily, and Celestia hastily levitated a white handkerchief embroidered with a golden sun over from her desk. She offered it to Cozy Glow, who took it without thanks.

“It’s just that I—” she sniffled again and blew loudly. “The one intelligent pony I’ve met through this whole mess said no to me today. I thought — I thought that I was connecting with somepony. But was all just in my head, apparently. Like so much else.”

Celestia was glad that Cozy Glow’s view of her face was obscured by their hug. She wasn’t quite able to mask her surprise. Who had Cozy Glow approached? Certainly nopony Celestia had matched her with. Cozy Glow had made it eminently clear that all of Celestia’s suggestions were well below her lofty standards.

But the identity of the pony in question should not be her focus, she reminded herself. No matter how curious she was. She must be empathetic, responsive. Poor Cozy Glow had experienced little enough of that in her life.

“I am so sorry to hear that,” she said gently. “I would be happy to listen, if you want to talk about it any more.”

Cozy Glow’s sobs finally stilled, and she seemed to recover herself a little. She stiffened, and then pulled away. Celestia let her go.

“No,” Cozy said, wiping again at her eyes with the handkerchief. “No, thank you…Auntie. I’m feeling better now.”

“I’m glad,” Celestia replied. She didn’t miss the new moniker, and felt herself swell a little internally. She had made the breakthrough her relationship with Cozy Glow had so sorely needed.

But she couldn’t let the conversation pause; if given too long for her own thoughts Cozy would re-erect all those walls Celestia had finally gotten past.

“There was actually another reason I was hoping to talk to you.”

Cozy Glow glanced up from her ablutions, her face darkening with a shadow of its old suspicion. “Oh yes?”

Celestia rose and walked over to her desk chair, beckoning Cozy Glow to a chair opposite. “Come. Join me.”

A slight frown on her face, Cozy obeyed.

As was her wont, Celestia steepled her hooves on her desk as she spoke. ”I am not a self-deceiving pony, Cozy Glow.”

Cozy Glow let out a very quiet, almost undetectable snort. Celestia chose to be the bigger pony both figuratively and literally, and ignored it.

“I can admit that it has taken me…time, and patience, to get to know you well. But that is what I have done, over the past few weeks. One is never too old to learn, as I always tell Twilight. The way you and your matches reacted to one another has taught me valuable lessons about your personality and mindset. I have used those lessons, and I believe that I have finally found the right pony for you. A perfect match for you, both emotionally, and most importantly, intellectually.”

Although her facial expression did not move an inch, Cozy Glow’s ears pricked up.

“She is clever, ruthless, and brilliant, just like you are, Cozy Glow. She has risen to the top of her field and will climb even higher before she’s done.”

Cozy Glow’s carefully blank expression slipped into a scowl. “I hope you’re not just going to give me a mirror and call it a day, Princess.”

With difficulty, Celestia kept her smile in place. “Ah…no. No, you can rest assured that I will not do that. But I can give you her profile.”

She slid a slim file across the desk, nothing like any of her other files. This one was glossy imperial purple card, embossed with gold leaf as delicate as the covers of the finest books in Celestia’s library.

Cozy Glow shot Celestia another sceptical glance, but reached out and scooped up the file. She flipped it open and her eyebrows rose. She looked back up at Celestia. “And this pony has agreed to a date with me?”

Celestia shrugged her wings. “She and her parents are open to all options; their only concern is personality.”

Cozy Glow was still reading, her eyes flickering as she scanned the pages. “And you think my personality is a good fit for her?”

“Oh, undoubtedly,” Celestia said confidently, knowing that no two ponies had ever infuriated her in the way that these two did. “I think you will find that you are perfectly suited to one another.”

Cozy Glow snorted and pushed the file back across the desk. “Alright. I’ll play it your way. I’ll meet with her — but I suppose that you already knew I would say that.”

Celestia smiled her most beatific smile. No barbs would pierce her armour today, no matter how cunningly wrought. “I’ll write to her and arrange a time.”

Chapter 25

Zap Apple banked hard into a tight spiral and cut down towards the cloudbank below. He could barely see the farm. The cloud cover today was unusually thick for midsummer. A frown crossed his face. His parents shouldn’t have let it get to this stage. Thanks to his extensive briefing session with them last weekend, he was certain that they both knew full wellwhat his plan for the day was.

At least he was doing his part. For once, he was fully on schedule.

He had gotten up far earlier than was his wont and flown straight here. As always, he was glad to leave the lonely little flat in Appleoosa and return to the warmth and bustle of the family home. And he did enjoy helping out on the farm. Even though his cutie mark was in flying, he was still proud of his apple heritage. Pretty much the only speck of colour in his bachelor pad came from the two dwarf apple trees he had bought from home.

He clipped his wings and punched down through the clouds. For a second his eyes and throat were full of the thick, moist air, his feathers slick with water droplets, and then he was bursting out the other side.

Sweet Apple Acres was covered with heavy shadow. The day was overcast and gloomy, and a steady drizzle fell from the grey clouds overhead onto the waiting leaves of the apple trees. The ground was clearly sodden; every grass stalk so laden with raindrops as to be bent almost double.

Taking in the miserable scene, Zap Apple’s throat tightened. With such bad weather omens, it was a little difficult to feel optimistic about his grand plan. He soared over the main farmhouse and darted for the little cottage.

A small orange shape was just visible on the grass outside the house, shrugging into a yoke and harness. Zap Apple dove down towards her, backwinged almost to a halt, and then coasted in to an easy landing just beside his mother. He was calling out even before he had landed. “Mum! Why haven’t you dealt with this yet?”

“Zaps, honey?” Applejack peered up at him, and her muzzle split into a smile. “Ah didn’t expect you for a few hours yet.” She paused for a second. “Dealt with what?”

Silently, Zap Apple thrust a furious hoof skywards.

Looking mildly surprised, Applejack shrugged. “Me? Ah cain’t get that high, sugarcube. You know that.” She adjusted the yoke on her neck. “Nice to see you though, shug — how was your week?”

“I didn’t mean you fix it, per se,” Zap Apple snapped. “Where’s Mum?”

“Still in bed.” Applejack shrugged. “You know your momma — wild hogs couldn’t drag her outta bed on a Saturday. Ah’ve learned to live with it.”

“I just don’t understand why all this cloud is here in the first place.”

“Been a hot month,” Applejack answered, cinching a knot in the leather harness and pulling it tight with her teeth. “Ah needed some water fer the trees, an’ Rainbow was kind enough to fetch some in.”

“But why couldn’t you have had her clear it away again…?” Zap Apple let the question tail off. It was useless, and he had too much to prepare. “Never mind. I’ll go get her.”

“Good luck, Zaps, honey,” Applejack drawled as he trotted away, spreading his wings again. “She won’t show her tail outside those doors for another three hours at least.”

Skipping using the door in favour of windows was usually Rainbow’s trick, but Zap Apple didn’t have time to hang around. In a streak of rainbow-red, Zap shot to his mothers’ bedroom window and pounded on the glass.

“Mum! Are you in there? Come on!”

There was a groan, and the window pane creaked open. Rainbow Dash peered blearily from within, her mane mussed and sleep-tangled. “Jeez, kiddo, what time is it?”

“Nearly seven, and I told you that I needed you up and cloud bucking well before I arrived.” He groaned and pushed a hoof into his forehead.

“Aw, come on,” Rainbow wheedled. “Your mum and I were having a lazy morning in bed. Cuddles are good for the soul, Zaps.”

Snorting, Zap Apple pointed down at the diminishing figure of Applejack, rounding a distant bend on the farm track, her cart in tow. “She’s already gone, Mum.”

Rainbow Dash cast a sleepy look over her shoulder. “Isn’t she still in bed? Huh. Guess not.” She shrugged. “No clue, then. Think she said something about pruning over in the southwest field, maybe.”

Grinding his teeth, Zap Apple reached in through the window frame and grabbed his mother by the hoof. “Come on, out you go.”

“Wait, wha—?” But Rainbow’s protestations came too late, and she was perfunctorily hauled out of the window. Grumpily, she began to flap. “Celestia’s wingfeathers, Zaps, what’s got you in such a bad mood today? You look like the ass-end of a stormcloud.”

Zap Apple folded his forelegs. “No, you know what looks like the ass-end of a stormcloud, Mum? Sweet Apple Acres. I told you I needed the sky clear and sunny today. I sent you a whole letter about it.”

Rainbow Dash stared at him blankly. She shrugged.

Throwing his hooves in the air, Zap Apple twisted violently away from her. “For Luna’s sake, you never listen! Today’s my big date with Dust Devil.”

At once, Rainbow’s eyes widened in a flash of understanding. “Oh, bucking buckballs! It can’t be Saturday already?”

Clenching his eyes shut, Zap Apple pressed his hooves to his eyes. “You didn’t even know what day it was?”

Spreading her hooves sheepishly, Rainbow offered an apologetic smile. “I pulled an all-nighter grading those papers on Monday, and then I had to fly them back over to the Academy. I slept for like seventeen hours and my schedule’s been kinda whack since then. Especially since your mum woke me up to herd all these rainclouds in yesterday…or was it the day before?”

For what felt like the sixtieth time that morning, Zap Apple could only shut his eyes and groan. “Oh, for the love of Luna…what day did you think it was?”

“Dunno. Thursday, maybe?”

Zaps hung his head. That was it. It was over, before it had even begun. They would never manage to clear the sky in time now, and Dust Devil wouldn’t even see the farm for the stormclouds. She would follow the map he’d sent and fly right over it. And on the slim chance that she did manage to find him, they’d spend a miserable couple of hours drenched by the rain and then she would give up and go home.

At once, Rainbow’s tone changed from nonplussed to concerned. “Hey, now, it’s okay.”

“No it isn’t.” He pushed her conciliatory hoof away, and slowly flapped his way down to ground level. “There’s no way the two of us can clear all this in just a couple of hours.”

A grin spread across Rainbow’s face as she circled down after him. “Kiddo, a lot of ponies have said that to me — including a nerdy little purple unicorn, the first time I met her. I’ll tell you the same thing I said then; a few little clouds are not a problem for Rainbow Dash. I’ll clear these out for you in half an hour tops. And I’ll do it solo, too.”

Zap Apple looked up at her, rainwater running down his face like tears. “You’re sure you can do it?”

“As your mum would say, sure as apples is apples.” Rainbow puffed her chest out like a cadet undergoing inspection. “You can count on me.”

“Ugh…fine,” Zap Apple conceded, shaking the water from his mane. “But I still think it would have been easier if you’d gotten up early to do it like I asked.”

Airily, Rainbow Dash waved a hoof. “Early, schmearly. If I’d done that I would have just had to do it all over again a couple of hours later.”

“Whatever.” Despite his dismissive words, Zap Apple was smiling again. A little bit. “I’m going to go after Mum and help her with the food prep.”

“Sounds good.” Rainbow was already fixing her gaze on the clouds, her wings obviously itching to get up there and start bucking them into oblivion. “What’ll you feed Dust Devil?”

“Apple fritters, I was thinking?” Zap Apple said, uncertain again. “They’re kinda my specialty in Appleoosa. Butterball from the squadron swears they’re the best thing he’s ever tasted.”

Clapping a hoof on his shoulder, Rainbow beamed proudly up at him. “That’s my boy. You’ll do great.”

His mother’s words buoyed him up onto his hooves. “Right. Yeah.” He took a few hesitant steps, then broke into a trot, and leapt aloft. “Good luck with the clouds!”

“Like I need luck!” Rainbow bawled after him. “Go get ‘em, tiger!”

Skimming low over the treetops, flapping hard enough that the wind of his passage sent leaves spiralling in all directions, Zap Apple raced after his mother. This date had been weeks in the planning. He had scheduled out the day with precision that did not come naturally to him, but he wasn’t about to let it be thrown off now.

He had three hours to bake his fritters and put together a picnic, with Applejack’s help. The picnic had to go off perfectly. The sort of date that didn’t just go smoothly, but the sort that went perfectly enough to heal previous cracks, and show him to be the ideal stallion that he knew he could be. If…if you looked at him in just the right light, at least.

This picnic had to create that metaphorical light. He needed to show Dust Devil his roots, his heart. He just needed her to understand him a little better; to know that he wasn’t some wishy-washy kid with no idea what he was doing. He was a strong pony, rooted in good soil.

After he had broken off from Princess Celestia’s service and made the gut-wrenching decision to get back in touch with Dust Devil, it had been Applejack’s idea to suggest a second date here on the farm.

“She prob’ly has some crazy view of you as some high-flyin’ wild boy, right?” she had said, as the two of them gathered up some windfall apples, with Rainbow sprawled in a tree overhead.

Zap Apple had hung his head. “That’s what she said.”

“Well, show her that ain’t the case. That there’s more to my boy than just his dashin’ good looks and killer smile.” She chucked him under the chin and Rainbow had laughed.

“More to me?” Zap Apple had asked, disconsolately. “Like what?”

Applejack sighed and gestured impatiently to the orchard around them. “Like this, Shug! Like your family, your history. She’s real interested in havin’ foals, right? Bring her to meet Apple Tart an’ Orange Peel, an’ the conversation will naturally turn to havin’ foals. Tell her about how you might like one o’ your own someday, or how excited you are to be an uncle — that part’ll be true, if nothin’ else.”

It had been a good plan, a solid plan. Dust Devil had liked him — for the first several hours of their date, at least. Their connection had been like nothing he’d ever experienced. Flying with her, the sight of her golden eyes in the sunlight, their wingtips almost but not quite touching; it had been electric. She must have felt it too. All he had to do was remind her of it. Bring back the things her heart had felt before her head cut them short.

And this date — close to his family, close to his home — would hopefully do exactly that. He didn’t know yet where he stood on the whole foals question, but hopefully Applejack’s plan would allow him to promise Dust Devil things with enough truth in them that she would trust him, and continue a little further on their journey together.

In a gap between the trees, he caught sight of Applejack, clearly post-applebucking, as she scooped up apples one at a time from where they had fallen. He banked and swooped down to meet her.

“Mum, we need to get back to the kitchen and get cooking. Can’t the farm wait a day?”

Applejack waved him off. “Ah’m gettin’ fresh fruit for your picnic, you great worrywart!”

Relieved, Zap Apple landed beside his mother and helped her hitch her cart back onto her harness. Overhead, the first ray of sun burst through the cloud as Rainbow Dash set to work.

Chapter 26

Cozy Glow sat in the oak-panelled room, leaning heavily upon the plush red arm of the chair in which she rested. A fire crackled just beside her, and she stared into the flames. The leaping red and yellow spires were reflected in the flat black pools of her eyes.

A book lay open on the table before her. It was bound in rich brown leather, like many of the others on the mahogany shelves lining the walls. The open page showed a series of chess openings, but even Cozy’s favourite subject held no interest for her today. She was too nervous. Besides, she had memorised the book years ago, the first time she read it.

The private room in the Grand Master’s Chess Club was the picture of old Canterlot money. Here was where some of the most intelligent ponies in the kingdom gathered, to talk, read, and test their wits against one another. It would have been a place sufficient to intimidate anypony.

Anypony, perhaps, but Cozy’s date for the day. Once, she might have picked a venue specifically to discomfit a potential match. What was dating, after all, but another sort of battle?

But that had been before Auntie Tia. Before Cozy had signed over her love life to the meddling hooves of an ex-royal. All of her prior attempts at romance had ended in disaster, leaving Cozy Glow crackling with so much rage that Rarity had guilt-tripped her into allowing someone else to manage the whole thing.

Not that Celestia’s hoof-picked dates had gone much better.

And today’s match, Celestia would have her believe, was the end goal of the ridiculous journey Cozy had been forced to undertake. Celestia’s magnum opus, the date she had been saving for last.

“I believe you have learned something from this process, Cozy Glow,” muttered Cozy, attempting the sing-song rise and fall of the Princess’ old Canterlotian accent. “And I have learned something too, about you and about what you need. This pony, I think, will meet all of your needs and more.”

Cozy Glow snorted. “Buck to that. It’ll go as badly as all the others.”

That was what logic and common sense promised, at any rate. There was no way that anypony of the lofty background Celestia had described would do anything other than run from a creature with Cozy’s history.

But then again, Celestia’s proposed match had agreed to this initial meeting. She had even agreed to travel south to Canterlot, to meet on Cozy’s turf. That would immediately give Cozy Glow the upper hoof, which spoke volumes about her match’s confidence.

No, wait, Cozy quirked her head sharply to one side. I shouldn’t be thinking like that.

Those were just the thought of adversarial thought patterns Mama had counselled her against yesterday.

“Nopony is out to get you, darling,” she had whispered, looking into Cozy’s red eyes with the soft blue of her own. “Just approach ponies with an open heart, a generous soul like the one you show to me, and I know that they will learn to love you just as much as I do.”

It was an old speech, but not yet a tired one. Cozy had heard it many times over the years, but Rarity meant it no less every time she repeated it, and that gave it meaning to Cozy. Mama believed in her. No matter how many ponies she pushed away, Rarity still loved her. Unconditionally. It had taken Cozy Glow a long, long time to trust in that, but the fact of it had now become the bedrock of Cozy’s life. She wanted to live up to that love. To be the pony her mother believed she could be.

And this was part of that. She needed to keep an…an open heart, just as Rarity wanted.

With a small sigh, she straightened in her chair and looked away from the fire. She could do this. She could.

There was a small knock at the door, and Cozy’s pensive expression at once closed back into its usual sardonic smile.

“Come in.” Her voice was as inflectionless as ever.

The door opened slightly, and the club butler entered, his grey moustaches drooping impressively. “Your visitor has arrived, Ma’am.”

Cozy Glow’s heart thudded a little faster, but outwardly she was still as a stone. “Thank you, Silverware Shine. Please show her in.”

He dipped his head politely and retreated. Cozy Glow waited, her every muscle aching from being held so rigidly still. Then, slowly, the door creaked open again, and Silverware Shine was back.

“In here, Your Majesty,” he murmured, bowing low and holding the door ajar for her.

Gliding elegantly into the room in a rush of icy-pink feathers came Cozy Glow’s date. Cozy swallowed and tried too late to force her limbs into a pose of nonchalance.

The pony before her stood only a little taller than Cozy herself, with twisting blue curls crowding to frame her beautiful blue eyes. Her horn spiralled long and graceful from within their midst, and her cutie mark showed the crystalline heart for which she was named. She looked every inch the princess, but the smile that she turned on Cozy Glow held an edge and her eyes were full of challenge.

“Hello, Cozy Glow.” The words were lightly spoken, but they seemed sharp enough to send pinpricks of — of something racing down Cozy’s spine.

Cozy Glow’s eyes narrowed slightly as an involunary smile spread across her face. Here was a visitor that even she could not feign indifference to. “Hello, Princess Flurry Heart.”

Aqua pupils locked with ruby, and Flurry Heart sailed effortlessly into her seat. She glanced down at the book on the table, and once the eye contact was broken Cozy Glow finally snatched a breath. She had not looked away first — but somehow she still felt that she had come off the lesser in this first, most crucial interaction.

“Hmm,” Princess Flurry Heart said blithley. “Akhelhine’s Defence.”

If it had not been before, Cozy Glow’s attention was caught now. She leaned forward. “You know it?”

The Princess shrugged. “Doesn’t everyone?” Idly, she flicked through a few pages of the book. “It strikes me as a little passé for somepony of your abilities.”

A delicious shiver ran down Cozy Glow’s wings. “Do you think so?”

Flurry Heart cocked her head to one side. “I believe you said in your letter that you wanted to play a little. Shall we find out?”

Cozy Glow swallowed. Hard. Then she turned back to the butler, who still hovered unobtrusively in the doorway. “Silverware Shine, please will you fetch us a set? The post-Lunarian Return era stone set, I think. The marble one.” She turned back to her guest, the sight of the Princess sprawled so carelessly in the chair sending another thrill shooting down her spine. Cozy took a breath, and worked hard to sound casual. “Would you like anything to drink, Princess?”

“You can call me Flurry Heart, I think.” The Princess’ grin was delicious. It was as though everything she said was a double-edged sword, with some sort of hidden meaning that only the two of them knew. “We are on a date, after all.”

Lifting one corner of her mouth in response, Cozy spoke again. “Would you like anything to drink—” she lingered over the next words, “Flurry Heart?”

Flurry’s eyes slid away from her own, a smile playing over her lips. “Raspberry lemonade, please.”

Nodding slightly, Cozy returned her gaze to Silverware Shine. “And the same for me.”

The butler left, the door closing almost silently behind him. That was how staff should behave, Cozy thought, distracted for just a moment. Quiet and unobtrusive. Not clanking all over the place with a squeaky tea trolley like that insufferable octagenarian Princess Celestia insisted on employing.

She looked back to her guest. “Not traditional lemonade, then?” It was a trite question, she knew. But somehow every statement they exchanged felt like the opening salvoes of a chess match, and Cozy didn’t want to bring out her solar princess piece right away. Best to stick to pawns — just for the moment — and see what hidden meanings she could weasel out.

The Princess shot her a look from under hooded eyelids, and the intensity of that clear blue gaze made Cozy Glow’s heart stutter for a second. “I find that I like…” she paused, and ever so slightly licked her lips, “The tingle it creates.”

Unable to help herself, Cozy Glow leaned forward, hypnotised by Flurry’s every movement. She had never met anypony so enchanting, so effortlessly beautiful — and then she saw the spark of humour in the Princess’ eyes, and she snapped back into herself. She leant quickly back again, coughing to cover her movement, and glanced back up at Flurry, to see the other mare hiding a smile.

Cozy’s eyes narrowed. Flurry knew exactly what she was doing. It was all part of the game. Well, Flurry Heart might be a Princess, and Cozy Glow had long since given up her claims to the title of Empress, but she was still the bucking queen of games of wit. She could hold her own.

“And what about you?” Flurry Heart challenged her. “You only play with granite chess sets usually?”

A flip of her blue ringlets. “I find that I like the weight it lends a game.” Cozy Glow looked up at the Princess from under lowered lashes. “The thud of the pieces on the board tends to make each move seem a lot more…impactful, somehow.”

Cozy Glow knew that she was objectively a beautiful mare. Her mother reassured her of it often enough, and in her younger years she had used her perceived sweetness and her natural charm to get her way more times than she cared to count. Ponies seldom looked deeper than surface level, and she had used that to her advantage many a time.

But that had been in the past. These days, Cozy’s face was well known, from the history books, newspapers, and even that Celestia-damned statue that only the Princesses knew how many tourists had come to gawk at over the years of Cozy’s imprisonment. Cozy Glow was used to finding these days that any conventional attractiveness she retained was more than outweighed by ponies’ unfailing recognition of her and subsequent repulsion.

Though Flurry Heart certainly didn’t seem repulsed. A slight blush spread across her face, and Cozy Glow suppressed a grin. She could still give as good as she got.

Flurry noticed Cozy’s smile, and she hid a giggle with her hoof. The two mares sat back in their chairs, silently measuring one another up for a few heartbeats, before the door slid open once more.

Silverware Shine entered, a tray suspended in his magic. On it were two glasses of sparkling red liquid and an ornately carved wooden box. He set all three items down on the table between them, and removed Cozy’s book to reshelve it after she gestured him away.

As he exited once more, silence settled once again over the room. The pause stretched, and Cozy savoured the tension, until Flurry Heart broke it by lighting her horn to open the box.

“Alright,” the Princess said, that same mischievous grin curving up one side of her muzzle. “Let’s play a little game, shall we?”

Cozy Glow placed her hooves on the arms of her chair and leant in. “Oh, yes.”

Chapter 27

Carefully positioning the basket and smoothing one last near-invisible wrinkle from the chequered rug, Zap Apple took a deep breath and surveyed his handiwork.

The picnic blanket was positioned on a low swell of ground, just high enough to provide a view of the orchards below. A pair of golden delicious apple trees spread their shady branches overhead. The grass was long and luscious — almost as soft as his mattress back home — and when he was a teen he had passed long hours out here daydreaming. It was one of his favourite spots on the whole farm.

It was also one of the most beautiful, when conditions were right. He glanced up at the sky, which was as clear and crystalline as his mother had promised. The apple fritters waited in the picnic basket, safely ensconced in a crockpot to keep them warm. Applejack had pronounced them a triumph, and had handed him another pot of apple cobbler for dessert. With them sat a couple of mangos just for variation’s sake. Two bottles of last year’s cider rounded out the meal.

All that was missing now was the date’s final ingredient: Dust Devil herself. The mare in question did not strike Zap Apple as the type to be late. Underneath that outer layer of jocularity, she was a little too serious for that sort of thing.

But to be fair to her, she had never been to Sweet Apple Acres before, and the sea of green treetops could be a little hard to navigate from the air if you weren’t used to it.

Still, that didn’t stop him from anxiously scanning the sky for the umpteenth time.

He began to fidget nervously, rolling and unrolling one corner of the rug beneath his hoof. She wouldn’t just…not show up, would she? No. That would be even less like her — what little he knew of her — than being late. She had answered his letter. She had said she would meet him here. What had been her exact words?

“I wasn’t sure at first, but after thinking about it, that does seem like a good idea. We definitely had a spark that I haven’t felt with anyone else, and Auntie Tia thinks we should explore it.”

It rankled a little, that even after he had left Auntie Tia’s services, she still had a hoof in the pie of his love life. He sighed. Just because he had decided more efforts at matchmaking were not for him, that didn’t mean Dust Devil had to make the same decision. It was her prerogative.

Maybe, a little voice whispered, maybe if all goes well today, we can convince her that she doesn’t need to meet any more potential matches either.

Raising his eyes to the heavens once more, Zap Apple performed another cursory scan. Then his breath hitched, and he half-rose to his feet. At last, his patience was rewarded with the sight of a hazy white blob in the distance.

The blob winged its way toward him at considerable speed, and soon resolved itself into the gold-and-cream form of Dust Devil. As Zap Apple watched her streak across the skies of the farm he loved, his throat tightened. It was strange, to have her here at his home.

She sped closer, those wide wings pumping hard, and Zap Apple suddenly realised that she might not have seen him. Hastily, he jumped aloft, and shot up to greet her. The orange blur of his passage was enough to catch her eye, and she skidded to a halt, backwinging hard.

“Hey!” he called breathlessly, and immediately kicked himself internally for such a lame greeting. After all the suave lines he had practised last night, too.

But Dust Devil didn’t seem to notice. She smiled at him, and his heart constricted a little. “Hey, Zap Apple. Good to see you again.”

Relief washed over him at her words. The enthusiasm in her letter had been genuine, then. He had feared that it might all be some machination of Celestia’s. “Y-yeah,” he stuttered. “It really is.”

There was a moment’s silence, and then Zap Apple realised that he should be guiding the conversation. “I’m really — I’m really glad you came,” he went on quickly. “I wanted to see you again, after…last time.”

Dust Devil’s mouth quirked. “Me too.”

At least it was clear that she wasn’t going to launch into another deadly serious discussion about life goals this time. They could just…relax. Get to know one another.

Well, Zap Apple chided himself, She only really raised that stuff right at the end last time. She was totally chill for most of it.

Aloud, he said, “I’ve — uh — made us a picnic. I know it’s a little early for lunch, still, but I thought it might be nice to just…hang out. Talk a bit, you know?”

Still hovering in place, Dust Devil smiled a little wider. “Yeah, I think that sounds pretty cool.”

“And I’ve got more planned for after lunch, if you want to,” added Zaps. “We’ve got a pretty great swimming hole over by the river. And there’s some great flying over the Everfree — the winds there are insane.”

“Sounds great,” Dust Devil answered. “But lunch seems like a good place to start.”

Zap Apple led her down to his hillock, and watched as she settled herself on the rug beside him. She offered him a slightly nervous smile, and he realised he had been staring. Quickly, he gulped and looked away. He reached for the picnic basket.

“So—” they both began at the same moment, and hastily stopped. Dust Devil giggled softly, and Zap Apple flushed.

This wasn’t going the way he had imagined. Suddenly, all he wanted was to skip the awkwardness, to just get it out of the way. He wanted their easy companionship again, the banter, the competition.

“I’m really glad to see you again,” he said, a little urgently. “I really am. I just — let’s just relax together, shall we?”

Looking a little surprised, Dust Devil nodded. “Sure. Whatever you want.”

Zap Apple nodded too, a little slower, and eased himself down until he was lying with his legs folded under him. “This was my favourite spot when I was a kid,” he said softly.

Beside him, Dust Devil lowered herself onto her belly. “Oh yeah?”

“I used to come up here and dream of the new variety of apple I’d breed once I got my cutie mark,” Zap Apple said. “I was going to call it the Healthy Zappetite.”

A snort of laughter from beside him, and the tension was finally broken. “Really?”

He shot her a wry grin. “Really. I was going to be the best apple breeder Equestria had ever seen…at the same time as being a Wonderbolt, somehow.”

“And look at you now,” Dust Devil said, and Zap Apple looked sharply at her, but her expression was only one of gentle mockery.

“Yeah,” he laughed. “I eventually figured out that I hated grafting rootstock together. Manual labour…well, I can do it, but it’s not my favourite thing. And all that cross-pollinating the trees with a paintbrush.” He shuddered. “Way too finicky.”

“And the Wonderbolt dream?”

He shrugged, smiling a little wider. “Similar story. I realised being an elite athlete takes a heck of a lot of work. Training every day, workouts, the lot. My mum might make it look easy, but there’s an awful lot of secret work in there that she doesn’t really let on to ponies.”

“So you gave up on both options and went the tornado route?”

“Yep.” He shrugged. “It was a bit of an accident, really. I was just messing around at junior ‘Bolts camp one summer, and then boom — there it was. Tornado cutie mark. I was good at it, as it turned out.” He turned back to her. “How about you?” He gestured to the golden-yellow arc on her flank. “How’d you get yours?”

“A bit like you, but a few differences. When I was a kid we were always touring with the Washouts, so I started training pretty young. I went to training camp every year too — a few years ahead of your time, I guess. Before I even got my cutie mark I was leading the Junior ‘Bolts.” She shrugged her big soft wings. “Pretty standard story after that — we were doing a show at the end of summer. You probably did it too, the usual end of camp show. I went into a big loop, and then before I knew it,” despite her casual tone, her voice took on a tinge of pride, “I had my first contrail blazing out behind me. Got my cutie mark right then and there.”

“Wow,” Zaps breathed, and meant it. “What a great time to get it, too. Must have been awesome.”

“It was.” Dust Devil’s eyes misted up a little as she gazed past him and into her memories. Then she blinked and turned back to him. “My mum wasn’t best pleased though.”

“Why not?” Zap Apple couldn’t imagine it. Rainbow Dash would have been thrilled if he had gotten his cutie mark during a Wonderbolts show. Especially if it was obviously a flying mark, and not one in weather creation.

Dust Devil shrugged, lowering her eyes a little. “She has quite the history with the ‘Bolts. I’m sure your parents will have covered it with you.”

“Right, right, of course.” Internally, Zap Apple was kicking himself again. He’d put his big hoof right in it. The whole point of this date was to talk about them, not the weird family feud. Trying to change the mood, he hopped to his feet and headed over to the picnic basket. “Hey — so I don’t know if these’ll be quite your thing, but I did a little baking before you got here.”

She perked up at once. “Ooh. I wondered what it was that smelled so good. What’d you make?”

He couldn’t help it — his chest puffed out a little in pride. He was a good cook; everypony had always told him so. “My specialty. Fresh apple fritters, from apples we grew right here on the farm.” He lifted out the crockpot and laid it carefully in between them. “I’m reliably assured by a variety of different sources that these are delicious.”

Eyes half-shut, Dust Devil breathed in the aroma. “Mmm, they certainly smell it. Let’s eat.”

Grinning with anticipation, Zap Apple took the lid in his jaws and offered her the first one. He scooped out his own and held it in his hooves, waiting to watch her take her first bite. Dust Devil sank her teeth into the cider-rich batter and the soft cooked apple beneath, and Zap Apple was gratified to see her eyes half-close in bliss.

“Oh, princesses, this tastes amazing.”

“I told you it would.” It was a struggle not to sound smug. He bit into his own and let the familiar flavours dance across his tongue.

For a few minutes, they didn’t speak much. After they had each eaten seven of the weighty fritters, the crockpot stood empty. Dust Devil ran a hoof around the inside to catch any last crumbs, and then they both leant back with satisfied sighs.

“You’re a pony of hidden depths, Zap Apple,” Dust Devil said lightly, glancing across at him. “You’re a brilliant flier, you can make tornadoes like nopony I’ve ever seen, and you can bake? Is there anything you can’t do?”

Zap Apple blushed again, brighter than before. That was not a question he was used to hearing. “Ah, no, I’m nothing special.”

Leaning back onto her elbows and shutting her eyes slightly, Dust Devil waved a hoof at him. “Don’t do yourself down, Zap Apple. You’re a talented pony. I mean it.”

An irrepressible smile spread across Zaps’ face. “I— thank you. I think you’re pretty cool as well, Dust Devil.” He glanced over at the picnic basket. “You want a mango?”

She grinned. “Sure.”

He hoofed her one, and she caught it effortlessly. Taking a huge bite out of it, juices running down her chin, she smirked up at him. Zap Apple couldn’t help but smile back. She was so at ease, so confident.

Wiping her chin with one hoof, Dust Devil heaved herself back into a sitting position. “So. Back to your cutie mark. Tell me about your job — what function do the tornadoes serve? I’m not sure I get why any region would need great big twisters rampaging all over the place.”

“They’re necessary for the ecosystem out there,” Zap Apple said immediately; he was more than used to giving this explanation. Non-Appleoosan ponies were often confused by why is particular brand of weather management was needed. “Tornadoes and high winds spread the tumbleweed and the seeds from all the other plants around, they set off certain behaviours and breeding seasons in the animals and plants, and they help moisture to travel too. Wild tornadoes have always happened spontaneously in the desert, and it was only actually about twenty years ago that the local weather team set up the tornado squad to do it in a controlled way.”

“Huh,” Dust Devil remarked, leaning back on her haunches and taking another bite of her mango. “That’s actually a really interesting line of work. I would never have thought tornadoes were so important.”

Zap Apple nodded eagerly. “Yeah, it’s a great job. Aside from being really, really cool,” he flashed her a smile that he hoped was charming, “You can really tell that we make a difference in ponies’ lives. No more random destruction or risk; now we can warn ponies exactly when and where tornadoes will happen, and they can prepare for it.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I’d never even considered that aspect of it.”

The sound of a twig snapping and a hurried “Shhhhh!” made both their heads snap around, and Zap Apple’s easy confidence evaporated as he saw both his mothers frozen mid-step, the offending twig crushed beneath Applejack’s hoof.

Zap Apple surged to his hooves, his wings spread to put some sort of a barrier — any sort — between his parents and his date. This could not be happening. Not when everything had been going so well. “Mum! What are you doing here?”

“Heh, heh.” Rainbow offered them a weak smile. “Hey there, kids. Fancy running into you here.”

Wincing, Applejack put a hoof on Rainbow’s foreleg. “Sorry, Zaps. Your momma and I were just headin’…headin’ over to see Big Mac. See how Orange Peel’s comin’ along.”

Eyes narrowed, Zap Apple furiously jerked his head to indicate that they should get lost. “The farmhouse is that way, Mum.”

Applejack wilted. “We were goin’…by a bit of a roundabout route.”

“We just wanted to see if you kids needed anything,” Rainbow added brightly.

A hoof pressed to his face, Zap Apple furiously gestured them away. “Go on, guys, get going, then.”

“So you don’t need anything?”

He groaned, and behind him, Dust Devil laughed. “No, Mum! Get out of here!”

His parents vanished back into the trees from whence they came, Applejack forcibly hauling Rainbow along behind her.

“Ah told ya it was a bad idea to go see them!"

“Aw, quit it, AJ! You wanted to see what all the fuss was about just as much as I did!”

His hoof pressing harder into his face than ever at their still clearly audible voices, Zap Apple considered spontaneous combustion. While fatal, it would provide at least a way out of this hellish situation.

“Hey,” Dust Devil said from behind him.

“I’m sorry,” he said from behind his hooves. “That was dreadful. I have no idea why they did that.”

“No, come on,” she laughed. “It was fine! They seem really…cool.”

He shook his head and got to his hooves. “I think its clear that this spot is now compromised. Let’s move on, shall we?”

She took the hoof he offered to help her up and fell into step beside him. “Alright, then. What’s phase two of the Zap Apple date extraordinaire?”

“The river,” he smiled down at her. He could still get this back on track. “The swimming hole, remember?”

After a glance up at the sky, she nodded. “Sure. It’s nice and sunny, so we can dry our feathers afterward.” She paused, and then nudged him gently with the elbow of one wing. “I gotta say, Zap Apple, you shouldn’t worry about what happened. Your parents seem like really nice ponies.”

Zap Apple coloured slightly. “Oh, really? I’m glad you think so. I did not expect them to come out and do that, I promise.”

They reached the winding track that led towards the river, and Dust Devil asked a couple of questions about the different varieties of apples that they were passing. Zaps was happy to oblige, and launched into a description of the difference between jazz and gala apples, attempting to make it as funny as he could.

It was working, and Dust Devil was falling about laughing when the two figures strolling down the track up ahead caught Zap Apple’s eye. For one hideous moment he feared that it was his mothers come back to haunt him again, but the two shapes resolved themselves into different familiar forms. A big purple stallion and a smaller tangerine-coloured mare, her belly big with foal. Apple Tart was pulling a cart laden with apples, and Orange Peel was walking carefully along beside him, her stomach looking like an even heavier load than the one her husband pulled.

“Tartie, Orange Peel, hey,” Zap Apple greeted them both. Though Dust Devil slowed her pace as though she would have liked to greet them, he signalled furiously over her head at Apple Tart, who nodded and plodded onwards.

“Heyo, Zaps,” was all he said, and Orange Peel waved a hoof. Then they were gone, mercifully. Zap Apple breathed a sigh of relief. He’d had about all the family introductions he could handle.

He turned back to Dust Devil, who shot him a questioning glance. “Your brother?”

“Nah,” he shook his head. “My cousin. But he’s as good as a brother. Him, my cousin Pippin and me all grew up together.”

“And is Pippin about today too?” A small smirk played around the corners of Dust Devil’s mouth, and she made a show of peering behind a couple of the trees they passed. “Seems like there’s an Apple behind every bush round these parts.”

Zap Apple laughed. “Heh — no, she’s at university. She won’t be home now until Hearth’s Warming, at the end of term.”

“What’s she studying?” Dust Devil’s ability to feign polite interest in other ponies’ obscure family members was either incredibly well simulated, or it was genuine.

“Horticulture. Apples mainly, I think.” He chuckled. “We’re a bit of a predictable clan, I’m afraid.”

Dust Devil shrugged her soft plumage. “Actually, I’m finding you all to be…a real surprise. This isn’t at all what I expected from your family. Not to mention the family of Professor Dash. Who’d have thought she was a farmer in her spare time?”

Zaps bridled a little at the mention of his mother, and Dust Devil must have sensed it, because she quickly laid a wing against his side. “Not that your mum is relevant, I mean. I want to leave our parents and their history out of this just as much as you do.”

The touch of those whisper-soft feathers sent tingles down Zap Apple’s spine and was enough to drive all coherent thought from his head for a moment. “Oh, I — uh,” he stuttered, and Dust Devil giggled and withdrew her wing, and he could think again. “I mean—” He coughed, and tried to deepen his voice a little, “—Yeah, good plan.”

She giggled again, and it was an incongruously girlish sound to hear coming from a mare as intimidating as she sometimes seemed. But it was a lovely noise, like birdsong, and Zap Apple wanted to hear it again. He scrambled for something funny, and then landed instead on something Applejack had suggested that he tell Dust Devil.

“Uhm — Orange Peel, she — Apple Tart’s wife, I mean — she’s pregnant.”

That got another laugh out of her. “I noticed. I think I would have struggled not to notice.”

He snickered with her, and suddenly he knew that he could be honest with her. That she wouldn’t judge him. “Horseapples, I’m — I’m hopeless at this. Dates. Conversation.” He cleared his throat. “I’m really looking forward to being an uncle. I can’t wait to see what my little niece or nephew looks like.” He ducked his head again and came to a halt. “I know your big thing is that you want foals soon, Dust Devil, and I — I’m still figuring all that out. But Tartie’s kid is gonna be here in a couple of months, and I can tell you that I’m stoked to meet my nibling, and maybe…maybe then I’ll be able to give you a firm answer.”

Dust Devil’s steps slowed and halted too, but Zap Apple kept his gaze on his own pale orange hooves.

“Hey,” she said softly. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty damn good at dates. And conversation.” She blew air out through her nose, and reached out a wing to touch his face. “And I appreciate your honesty. All in all…I do really like you, Zap Apple. I asked if you were open to what I want, and you’ve said you are. I think I can probably hold off a few months while you figure it out.”

Hope sprang anew in Zap Apple’s breast, and he looked up at last into her amber eyes. “You mean it?”

Dust Devil’s expression was calm, her eyes big and soft as she looked at him. “I…yeah. Maybe I…maybe I have been jumping into this tail-first. I mean, after I have the foal I gotta raise the thing. And I need to take my time and find the right pony to do that with.”

Zap Apple chuckled, and he leaned into her caress. “And don’t forget what comes after that.”

Her eyes tightened for a moment before she relaxed again. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…foals leave home,” Zaps said, a laugh in his voice. “You need to find somepony bearable enough to hang out with at the old ponies’ home after your kid’s grown up and gone off to be in the Wonderbolts.”

Dust Devil giggled again, and the sound sent thrills through Zap Apple like tiny, delicious knives. “Yeah, you’re right.” She brightened. “Okay, Zap Apple. You win. You got me. We’ll take it slow, for a while. See how we go. I want to get this right.”

Zap Apple reached up a hoof to touch the pinion that still lay against his face, and Dust Devil’s eyes were like liquid honey looking up at him, her scent of pine and speed and cloud vapour washing over him — until his grip on her tightened and he yanked her towards him. Her full length pressed against him, and for a heartbeat he could feel every sinew of her muscular frame. She gasped and he grinned down at her shocked expression. “But we don’t want to take things too slow, do we?”

She took a moment to recover, but then she lidded her eyes and shot him a flirtatious glance. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” and Zap Apple’s grin widened as he suddenly released her and leapt upwards into the air, “We are on our way to the swimming hole, and it seems to me like the last one there will bear the label of ‘slowest flier’ for all eternity.”

Dust Devil gasped in outrage and unfurled her own glorious wingspan. In a single snap of her pennons she was airborne and beside him, hovering with perfect precision. “Oh, Zap Apple, you have no idea who you just challenged. It’s on.”

She slammed her wings downwards again and was gone, tearing away from him in a howl of wind not unlike her namesake. Zap Apple grinned at her swiftly retreating golden contrail, and hastened after her. The race was afoot, and if he was going to lose, he was going to make damn sure he didn’t go down without a fight.

Chapter 28

The clunk of the pawn on the board somehow felt quieter than the thudding of Cozy Glow’s own heart. Thirty moves in, and only a couple of pieces lost each. The aptitude that her opponent displayed had left Cozy stunned. Flurry Heart played like a master, but she made it seem effortless. Seemingly, all of her attention was on their conversation. She would sip her drink, flip idly through one of the books she levitated over to her, exchange another slightly barbed comment with Cozy, and then make yet another move that even Cozy herself had not predicted accurately.

For the first time in a long time, Cozy Glow actually had to pay attention to a game of chess.

It was brilliant.

“So tell me,” Flurry Heart said carelessly, toying with one of the pawns she had stolen from Cozy Glow early on in the game, before Cozy had realised quite the level at which they were playing. “You’re a lawyer. For someone of your history, that’s an unusual career choice, wouldn’t you say?”

Cozy Glow froze, her hoof suspended over the board. Flurry Heart was asking about her past. Nopony ever asked about her past. Not directly. They would dance around the subject, making sure she knew that they knew exactly who she was and what she had done. But no one ever wanted to discuss it. The topic was too…tainted, too dirty, for polite society.

But the Princess of the Crystal Empire was here, demanding answers.

She swallowed. “Well, Princess—”

“—Oh, come on, I told you to call me Flurry. I’d say we were at that point now, wouldn’t you?”

Cozy Glow suppressed a smile. This mare kept her constantly off-balance, never letting her get a sentence out uninterrupted. “Well, Flurry, justice is…very important to me.” She paused, and then made her move, in truth still paying more attention to the internal construction of her next sentence. “This is rather raking over old coals, but I was…well, I was sentenced to life imprisonment. Without a trial. It was only a fluke that Princess Twilight took it into her head to release me and the others later on. I want to make sure that the Equestrian legal system treats other ponies more fairly than it treated me.”

Flurry Heart nodded, and moved a celestial bishop without looking at the board. “That’s a noble goal, and I’d like to see similar laws enshrined at home once I’m in power. But — and forgive me if I’m wrong — I’ve read some of your cases. And those aren’t usually the types of client you take on. You seem to deal in high profile divorces, civil suits, libel claims. That sort of thing. Lucrative, but not particularly concerned with justice.”

Despite herself, Cozy Glow found herself blushing. “Those are the cases that exist in Canterlot,” she scowled. “I take what there is.” She shoved a pawn one square closer to Flurry Heart.

“Really?” Flurry Heart pushed. “Because it seems like you just take what pays.”

“Princess Twilight and her friends have controlled the kingdom for over thirty years,” Cozy Glow snapped, her eyes flickering over the board. She pushed her pawn forward again. There was a slim chance to reclaim a lost piece, if Flurry remained focused on their words instead of on the game. “In that time perhaps five major threats have arisen. Of the three which took place after I was unfrozen, one was from non-sentient purple ooze that hardly needed a legal defence, one was the lava rhinososauruses who were massacred by Twilight’s pet students and completely obliterated, and one was Sombra’s followers, and they…” she tailed off, and her anger faded into apprehension.

“They were defeated, and banished into Sombra’s void. By me.” Flurry Heart finished the sentence for her, a wicked glint in her eye. Finally, she looked down at the board.

Cozy Glow followed the Princess’ gaze, and her eyes widened in shock.

Flurry Heart moved her pegasus knight in and took Cozy Glow’s lunar princess, left undefended by the departure of the pawn she had so rashly moved.

“Exactly,” Cozy Glow echoed wonderingly, still gaping at the board. She had been goaded into removing her focus from the game. She, Cozy Glow, had been manipulated into making a mistake a foal could have seen coming. And it had been done by a princess. One of Equestria’s twee, friendship-focused idiots.

Except…it didn’t seem that this Princess was very similar to the others Cozy had met.

“I thought that might get your back up,” Flurry Heart smirked, her expression mischievous.

Blowing out a little air, Cozy Glow shook her head. “I…underestimated you.”

“Ponies often do,” said Flurry Heart lightly. “Youngest princess, least senior, a born alicorn; they think I’ve been spoon-fed everything by my mother and my aunt.” She met Cozy Glow’s eyes and smiled again. “They’re wrong.”

“Do you regret what you did to the Sombrites?” Cozy Glow asked. “Sealing them up in the darkness for another thousand years was a…cruel thing to do.” She had considered wording it more gently, but then decided to push ahead. Flurry Heart was not being gentle; why should she behave any differently?

Flurry Heart levitated Cozy Glow’s lunar princess off the board and examined it for a moment. “I could have been more merciful, it’s true.”

“How do you know they couldn’t have been reformed?” Cozy Glow persisted. “I was only imprisoned for fifteen years, and it drove me all but insane. A thousand years is unthinkable.” She shuddered.

“You were conscious then, all that time?” Flurry Heart’s attention was well and truly caught now. “I’d heard some rumours to that effect, but to have it confirmed from the horse’s mouth is another thing altogether.”

Looking away, Cozy Glow set her jaw. “I was. It was a…deeply unpleasant time in my life.”

Flurry Heart leaned forward, the clack of her piece on the board loud in the quiet. “Tell me about it.”

Breathing out slowly through her nose, Cozy considered the question. She could refuse, storm out, rage at the Princess for her cruelty and her condescension — or she could engage. See how this game — how both these games of wit played out. Learn what Flurry Heart’s strategy was. This different species of Princess…it intrigued her like nothing else had ever done.

“It was torment,” she said simply. “Fifteen years, countless days and infinite hours, shut in a cellar with no light, no sound, no nothing. Just me in my frozen body, trapped, seething with hatred for Princess Twilight Sparkle and everything she stood for. My mind chased itself around in circles, over and over, day after day — no rest, no sleep — just hate, hate, hate.” She paused, her breathing suddenly ragged.

Clenching her eyes tight shut, she tried to run over one of Doctor Healing Word’s mantras in her head. I control my own actions. I make my own fate. I am not bound to exact vengeance — I am not controlled by hate.

She ran through it twice more before her breath evened out, and she opened her eyes to see Flurry Heart studying her openly.

“And when you were unfrozen?”

Cozy Glow answered in a monotone, all emotion fled. “I tried to kill Twilight Sparkle. Being a twelve-year-old without any magic, of course, I failed. I was locked up, and she tried in a desultory sort of way to visit me and talk it out. Didn’t work, obviously.”

“So what did you do?”

“I escaped.” Cozy shrugged, and made another move; a pegasus knight this time. “Wasn’t hard. I went north; I had some sort of idea that I could find an artefact that would help me get the power I needed to take revenge. The Alicorn Amulet, something like that.”

“And did you find it?” Flurry Heart was looking at the board instead of at Cozy.

“No,” Cozy laughed, but the sound was without mirth. “I couldn’t even afford the train fare north. I ended up trying to rob a bank.”

“Ah,” breathed Flurry. “I think I’ve heard about that incident.”

Cozy Glow snorted. “Who hasn’t? It was all over the papers for months. ‘The Element of Generosity talks down child psychopath.’ ‘Element of Generosity gives crazed killer a second chance.’ ‘Rarity saves Canterlot.’ I remember all those headlines.”

“And then she adopted you.”

“And then she adopted me.” Cozy Glow was beginning to lose her patience. “What of it? I don’t want to talk about my mother.”

“Alright.” Flurry raised her hooves in a gesture of peace. “You’ve taken your turn. Why don’t we talk about mine?”

“Your what? Your mother?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Cozy Glow dropped her earth pony warrior six squares to the left of where it had been and looked into the Princess’ big blue eyes. “Alright. What was it like to grow up as an alicorn?”

“Dreadful.”

Snorting derisively, Cozy Glow flipped a wing. “Get out of here.”

“No, really.” Flurry Heart leant in. “Why do you think I agreed to this date? It’s not just because you’re an interesting pony — though you certainly are. It’s because we have something in common.”

“And what’s that?”

“A really bucked-up childhood.” Flurry Heart crossed her forelegs. “Everywhere I’ve ever gone, I’ve been fenced in on every side. Rules, traditions, court strictures. I’m not sure I’ve ever been alone. A maid comes with me to the bathroom. I have six fully armoured guards waiting for me outside this chess club. My parents and my aunt control where I go, who I see, what I think.” She waved a wing. “Oh, they mean well, but that doesn’t mean I’m any less trapped by it.”

Ears flicking the aspersion away, Cozy Glow rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. A privileged upbringing — boo-hoo. How does that equate to how I grew up?”

Shoving a piece across the board, Flurry Heart kept her eyes locked on Cozy’s. “I know what it’s like to be the smartest pony in the room. In every room, no matter where you go. I know what it’s like to have the press watch your every move, like vultures, just waiting for you to slip up. I know what it’s like to destroy things — no, I’m not kidding.” Her voice rose a little in anger. “I’ve had alicorn magic since before I could walk. I’ve torn down palaces by sneezing. I know what it’s like to have ponies fear you — to see you as a ticking time bomb. Who could understand that better than us?”

Smiling viciously, Cozy’s eyes combed the board. At last, the Princess was the one who was getting upset. “So that makes your decision to send three hundred misguided ponies into the realm of shadows for a thousand years morally justified? Because you had a rough time growing up?”

“I did what I thought best,” Flurry Heart snarled. “I was twelve.”

Tilting her head, Cozy Glow smirked. Every nerve ending was on fire. She could feel the room pulsing with Flurry’s anger. She finally felt alive.

“And look what you got from it,” she needled. “A cutie mark and a stained glass window in Canterlot — what more could you want?”

“A stained glass window, yes. The first of many. And nightmares,” Flurry Heart spat. “Fifteen years of screaming night terrors about the howls of those souls that I damned, that I sent down there in a fit of childish anger with a spell I scarcely understood. Fifteen years of guilt — of fear that I might do it again — of a city full of ponies too afraid of me to be my friends.” Her pale pink sides were heaving, and she raised a wing to hide her eyes.

Cozy Glow felt an unexpected spike of empathy. That was the story of her life. Ponies too afraid of me to be my friends. Maybe she had gone too far. Hesitantly, she raised a hoof to comfort the princess.

But Flurry Heart had already remastered herself. She shrugged. “I can’t change it now. What’s done is done. I made my choice, and I have to live with it. All I can do is try to choose differently in future, and put things in place so that in nine hundred and eighty-five years, when the Sombrites emerge, Auntie Tia and Auntie Luna have the ability to deal with them more gently than I did.”

She looked down at the board once more, and silently made her move.

Following her example, Cozy Glow looked down too. She studied the state of the game for a few moments in silence, the distraction of Flurry’s stormy emotions finally ended — and it was only then that she saw it.

Cozy’s heart swelled within her. There. Six moves away, but coming as inexorably as a freight train. Flurry Heart had her solar princess in checkmate. There was no escape. For the first time in her long, angry life, somepony had beaten Cozy Glow in a game of chess.

Cozy Glow, breathing hard, looked up from the board and into the alicorn’s soft blue eyes.

Flurry Heart shot her a smile — gleeful and sneaky all at once — she knew exactly what
she had done.

Shaking her head in wonderment, Cozy Glow reached out a hoof and gently tipped her own solar princess onto its side. “You got me.”

The princess shook her blue-and-pink curls and beamed. “That was good fun,” she said lightly. “Maybe we’ll have a rematch sometime soon…it’s been a while since I’ve played anypony who put up such a fight.”

Eagerly, perhaps even a little desperately, Cozy Glow agreed. “Yes, please. I — I would like that, very much.”

Author's Note

For anyone interested in what would have happened if Cozy had managed to catch that train north, have a read of my story The Darkest Path. (Due warning, its M-rated and fairly gory.)

Chapter 29

“I’m so happy for you both.” Twilight Sparkle’s eyes were big with tears, and Lustre Dawn felt Little Cheese’s hoof tighten on her own.

She slid out of her seat and trotted over to her mentor, and pulled the vast purple alicorn down into a hug. “Thank you, Princess Twilight.”

After she let go, Twilight wiped away a tear with one golden-shod hoof. “Thank you both for coming to tell me. I really appreciate it.”

Lustre retreated to Little Cheese’s side, and the small smile Cheese gave her sent a little thrill through her body. Even now, a week after it had happened, she could still hardly believe her good luck.

Looking back to the Princess, who was still smiling that slightly watery smile, Lustre’s heart felt full. “I want to thank you too, Princess.”

Twilight looked shocked. “But — for what?”

Tears pricking at her own eyes, Lustre smiled up at her. “For showing me the magic of friendship, Princess. If it wasn’t for you — if you hadn’t sent me back to Mum’s school — I’d still be in Canterlot library.” She turned to look into Little Cheese’s emerald eyes. “I would never have known that there was more to life than spells and studying.”

“That means I owe you thanks too, Princess,” Little Cheese added, her higher-pitched voice providing the perfect counterpoint to Lustre’s alto. “If you hadn’t sent Lustre to Ponyville I’d never have met her. We owe you big-time.” A small smile played across her face. “Maybe I should ask my mum to throw you a thank-you party.”

Laughing, Twilight raised a hoof to her mouth. “Thank you, Little Cheese — but I think poor Pinkie’ll be busy enough with the wedding planning.”

Little Cheese giggled. “You’re probably right.”

Twilight spread a single wing in warning. “A word of caution, though — Pinkie does brilliantly with weddings, but if I were you I’d make sure she doesn’t go too bananas with yours. I’ve had more than my fair share of Pinkie Pie parties that end with me covered in cake batter fired from a cannon.”

“I’ve known that feeling too,” Lustre Dawn added, grinning at her marefriend. No — her fiancee. She still wasn’t used to that new word. And before too long it would be another new word. Wife.

Shrugging delicately, Little Cheese pushed her curls back from her face. “I’ve learned that no one can really stop Mum. She’s…well, she’s a force of nature. But don’t worry — the cake is the one thing that I do intend to keep control of.”

“It’s going to be cheesecake!” Lustre Dawn leaned towards Twilight in excitement. “Little Cheese’s favourite. A foretaste of Little Cheese’s Little Cheesecakes.”

Twilight smiled wider. “Well, I can’t wait to taste it. And once your cafe opens here in Canterlot, Little Cheese, I’d love to appoint you the official cheesecake supplier to the crown.”

As one, Little Cheese and Lustre gasped. “Really?”

“Really,” Twilight confirmed. “It’s an honour that the two of you more than deserve.”

Beaming, Lustre Dawn clutched Little Cheese’s hooves and shared a quick nuzzle with her. She could hardly believe how well all their plans were going. It was like she had somehow stepped into a dream world.

“Am I the last pony you needed to tell?” asked Twilight, her tone curious. “I’m very sorry that my diary was so booked up the last couple of weeks.”

“No,” Little Cheese answered for both of them. “There was one other Canterlot pony we needed to tell.”

“Ah.” Twilight understood at once. “Well, you had better hurry along, then. This is news she won’t want to wait to hear.”

“And here is where the counter will go, right here.” Little Cheese was almost singing the words, her voice alight with excitement. “And here is where I’ll have the display cabinet for the really big cakes — and just over here is where we’ll put the tables.”

Lustre Dawn spun around as she followed the pointing hooves, a grin covering her face from ear to ear. “I can’t wait to get started on it all with you, Little Cheese. I’m not very good at carpentry, but I’m so excited to try!”

A giggle answered her. “No, silly — we’ve got professional carpenters coming. This needs to look right. We only get one shot at a grand opening.”

“Of course,” Lustre laughed. “I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“But you haven’t even seen the best part!” Little Cheese seized her by the hoof and the two of them galloped away from the plate glass windows at the front of the shop and towards the stairs at the back.

They pounded up the white stone steps, made from marble like all the buildings in Canterlot. Side by side, they emerged into a large white room, bigger even than the cafe downstairs by virtue of the old building’s bulging walls.

“I have so many ideas for this room,” Little Cheese began. “I thought we could maybe paint one wall yellow, like a feature wall — I thought it would match your eyes.”

Before Lustre could even coo over the sweetness of the thought, she was hauled onwards again, up past the third floor and onto the fourth. Little Cheese pushed her towards the door. “Go on, open it.”

Hesitantly, Lustre Dawn opened the door, and gasped as she looked inside. The room was a perfect circle, with windows on every side. Light flooded into the room, illuminating it with all the colours of the Canterlot afternoon. “This is gorgeous! What’s this room going to be? Our bedroom?”

“No; that’s downstairs.” Little Cheese blushed prettily as she gestured around them. “Actually, I thought this room could be yours. I was going to ask the carpenters to come up here, too, and put in bookshelves. All around the walls—” she span as she spoke, pointing to her visualised shelves. “—Apart from just there, where I was going to suggest that we put your desk.”

Lustre Dawn’s heart swelled. “A library, just for me?”

“And a study!” Little Cheese beamed at her. “You’ll need to put all your books somewhere, right? And have somewhere to write your papers.” She came closer and took Lustre by the hooves. “This is going to be more than a cheesecake cafe, Lustre. This is going to be our home. Both of us.”

For the first time that day, tears spilled down Lustre’s cheek as she pressed her muzzle hard into Little Cheese’s cheek. “I love it.”

“And I love you.” Little Cheese tapped her softly on the nose. “Now come on! This was only meant to be a whistle-stop tour. We’re late for Auntie Tia!”

“Truly?” Celestia’s heart was full. “You’re both ready?”

Lustre Dawn and Little Cheese, seated before her on the settee, smiled at one another.

“Yes,” Lustre answered. “She makes me laugh. I think I never really understood fun till I met Cheese.”

“And she makes me happy,” Little Cheese added. “Laughter is great — but you need real, deep happiness behind it too.”

Lustre Dawn nodded and pressed her hoof over her fiancee’s. “We just came from telling Princess Twilight. She offered to officiate, but I said that I’d rather just have her there as my mentor, and as one of my parents.” A fond smile crossed her face. “She cried a little bit.”

Celestia didn’t feel entirely dry-eyed herself. “I can imagine.”

“Actually, Princess,” Lustre Dawn said with a touch of hesitancy, “We were kind of hoping, if it’s not too much to ask, if you would be willing to do the ceremony.”

Celestia’s smile was wide enough almost to hurt. Her little ponies never ceased to amaze her with the love they could show her.

“I would be more than honoured. Thank you. Both of you.”

Later, after the tears were dry and the goodbyes said, Celestia watched them go. Side by side, two little mares, united against the world. Her eyes brimming with emotion, Celestia smiled as she shut the pale blue door behind them.

Even after all this time, after all these years…she was still helping them. Even after she had retired from the throne, given away her power, still her ponies came to her, with problems as dear to them as ever the national conflicts and state affairs had been. She levitated a delicate lace handkerchief up to her face and surreptitiously dabbed at the moisture in her eyes. She was still serving her ponies, and they still loved her. It was all the purpose that she needed.

Author's Note

And that's a wrap, people.

Thank you all so much for sticking with me to the end of the book! I've massively enjoyed reading all the comments as we went along, and hearing all your views. I hope you enjoyed getting to know my versions of all these characters.

If you liked the book, you can get a print copy of it here if you want, with the pretty cover art I made for it: https://www.lulu.com/account/projects/n6mnnm
It would be cool to think there are a few copies of my story sitting on shelves out there.

Chapter 10

Luna smiled to herself as she walked slowly up and down the aisles of her night garden. Her pale roses were blooming beautifully, their milky white faces turned up towards the stars, the wolfsbane and nightshade growing thick and green at their base. All around, her little moonblossoms spread over the rolling lawns, their lovely petals opening one by one as the moon climbed higher.

Luna loved her garden, almost as much as she loved her night sky. With Twilight Sparkle managing the moon itself, Luna had been able to spend more time than ever wandering the dreamscape and putting her stars back into their proper order after her immeasurably long absence. She had even found time for a few new hobbies. Her paintings were improving almost nightly, and her garden was growing more lovely with every passing sunset.

She raised her head to the sky once more, scanning the dark clouds with her perfect night vision. Celestia had sent word to say she would be working late this evening, but Luna expected her any minute now. She had cookies waiting in the oven, so that the minute Celestia landed, she would have her favourite sweet treats ready for her.

When Celestia baked, she always produced milk chocolate cookies, but when Luna was the one in charge of the Castle’s enormous and recently repaired kitchen, she favoured dark, rich cookies, almost black, studded with white chocolate chips so tiny they almost looked like stars in a midnight sky. They melted most wonderfully on the tongue.

Luna completed two more laps of her little rose garden, snipping off a wilting bloom here, a thorny branch there. Finally, she selected five of her finest white roses, and several moonblossoms to form a counterpoint, and wrapped their stalks with black ribbon. There! A perfect centrepiece for the table as they ate their midnight meal.

She glanced up one last time, and there she saw Celestia’s pale form, grey in the darkness rather than its usual radiant white, descending rapidly towards the Castle’s tallest spire, where Luna habitually watched the stars pass overhead from her balcony.

The bouquet held carefully in her magic, Luna spread her wings and flew silently upwards to join her sister.

Later, as they both delicately wiped the dark crumbs of chocolate cookies from their mouths — much more visible on Celestia’s pale muzzle, Luna noted with amusement — Celestia produced several thick files from her gold-tooled leather saddlebags and placed them on the table between the two sisters.

“What are these?” Luna asked, sending a a quick flash of magic to brighten the candles already burning with her cold blue flame. She knew Celestia preferred to read in stronger light.

“Clients,” Celestia replied. “The ones I’ve been working most closely with over recent weeks.”

Luna nodded. This was unusual; Celestia rarely involved Luna in her matchmaking work, just as Luna seldom invited Celestia to accompany her on her visits to Shady Hollows, the little batpony settlement where Luna’s word was still law.

“And what can I help you with?”

Celestia sighed. “You know I’ve no talent for scrying or seeing the future, Lu. That’s always been your forte. I was hoping — as my resident astrologer — you might be able to give me a helping hoof with these more troublesome clients.”

Luna resisted the urge to giggle, but a smile played around the edges of her mouth regardless. “I haven’t your skill in matching ponies, sister.”

“Of course not,” Celestia accepted the homage with a toss of her lustrous mane. “But you outmatch me by far in knowledge of the stars and their whispers of what is yet to come. And I think you might actually get better results cold, not having seen these ponies before.” She pouted slightly. “Please, sister. Some of them are proving quite the headache.”

Luna laughed in earnest now, but nodded her acceptance. She had never intended to refuse her sister aid; she never liked to refuse her sister anything. “Of course, Celly. I would be glad to help.”

Celestia breathed a sigh of relief and opened the folder. She spread out ten or twelve photographs on the table. “Alright. Just look at their faces, and tell me what you think.”

Luna looked down at the brightly coloured array before her. All young ponies, their smiles bright, their manes freshly washed. All had wanted to look their best before their photos had been taken. Luna shut her eyes and let her hooves hover over the photos. She tried to listen to the whispers that she always heard buzzing at the very base of her brain; the voices of her oldest friends, the stars.

Their soft tones hissed and hummed in her ears, growing stronger with every heartbeat now they knew that she was reaching out for them.

An answer came to her suddenly. “This one,” she said, reaching blindly for a photo and tapping her hoof on it. “And this one.” She could see flashes of pale silver, the sketchy shapes the stars often showed her when she reached out to them. Two shapes, side by side, facing the years. And two smaller shapes skipping behind them.

“Yes?” Celestia breathed.

“My friends whisper — they tell me that these two will have a strong relationship. The little one with the ponytail is destined to have…I think…twin foals. But I can’t be sure.”

Celestia scooped the photos out from under Luna’s hooves. “Lustre Dawn and Little Cheese,” she murmured. “Just as I hoped.” She paused. “Though that gaggle of geriatric unicorn grandparents will not be best pleased. Ah well; Raven can answer their letters.”

Luna paid little attention to her sister’s words. She was focused inwardly, on the gentle susurration of her silver chorus.

Celestia pressed her hoof over Luna’s own. “What else, sister? What do you see?”

Raising a wing for silence, Luna let the sibilance of her distant friends fill her mind. Just as she had done so often during her solitude on the Moon, when she had lived more in their distant visions than she had in her own dark present. She saw a new shape, sketched in the stardust, pushing everypony away from itself. Until finally, one shape was able to overcome those defences and win through, able to weather the violence even as the first pony still fought against it.

“This one,” she placed her free hoof onto the photo that the stars hissed was right. “She is…most hardheaded. Very stubborn. She will be hard for you to find a match for. I can’t be sure, but I think the stars are saying…any mate she has will have to be subservient to her; worship the ground she walks on. Even if she was to slap them, they would have to accept it. Or perhaps my friends are saying you must find somepony strong enough to accept her blows and ignore them. I can’t say for certain.”

“Yes,” Celestia’s tone was bitter. “That sums up Cozy Glow perfectly. Hardheaded, stubborn, and if we’re being honest, an unrepentant renegade.” She pressed Luna’s hoof again. “Can you see who it is she’s with?”

But the murmurs of Luna’s heavenly companions were fading, until they dipped back to their normal base level, an almost inaudible undertone at the back of her mind. She sighed and opened her eyes once more. “I’m sorry, sister, I cannot. That is all the stars and I can offer tonight.”

“Of course,” Celestia said regretfully. “Of course. But thank you, Luna. What you’ve given me is more help than I ever expected.”

“What will you do?” Luna asked, amused. It was funny to watch just how invested her sister became in her little pet projects.

Celestia numbered items off on her hooves. “Well, firstly, I know now to move ahead with Lustre Dawn and Little Cheese. I can encourage them, help them take the next step. With Cozy Glow…the shyest and most ‘subservient’ client I have — that was the word you used — is probably Rose Bloom. But I hate to subject her to Cozy Glow’s attentions. I’m not sure she could take it.”

“Rose Bloom?” Luna asked.

The name was not familiar to her, but that was the way of mortals; they bred like rabbits, and it was hard to keep up. One had barely managed to learn the names of a generation before they were preceded by the next. Twilight Sparkle and her friends were an exception, of course. Luna could never forget her saviours. But the majority of Celestia’s little ponies — for they were still mostly hers — tended to blur into one brightly coloured mass for Luna. She guarded their dreams, and knew their unconscious minds, but there were no names there. In the waking realm she contented herself with her batponies.

Celestia pushed one of the photos toward her. A pale yellow face stared back at her, slightly too long in the snout to be a pony, with elongated, donkey-like ears and large fangs. A long pink mane hung over the face, streaked with black, and lion paws could just be seen peeking into the photograph’s edge. Dragon wings curved up behind the body. Despite the outlandish appearance of the creature, its face wore a timid, almost tender expression. Luna couldn’t begin to guess what manner of creature this was. Some sort of curious hybrid, perhaps.

“Discord and Fluttershy’s daughter,” Celestia supplied. “Half pony, half draconequus. I acknowledge that she looks…quite fearsome, but she’s as timid as a little kitten underneath all that.”

“And you think she is the match for Cozy Glow?” Luna said doubtfully. She pictured the terrifying little filly that had wielded Grogar’s Bell all those years ago, and used it to suck the magic of moon and sun from herself and Celestia.

Celestia shrugged. “I think she is the only pony I currently have likely to accept a slap from the pony she loves and still care about them, which is the criteria you set. Rose Bloom also has links to Equestrian royalty through Twilight, which is important to Cozy Glow’s family. And if it turns out that she has any latent chaos powers and the backbone to use them, she’ll be able to fulfil your other requirement of being strong enough to overcome Cozy Glow if needed.”

“But what makes you think Cozy Glow is the right match for Rose Bloom?” Luna pressed.

Celestia shrugged. “Honestly, sister, the poor little thing was so shy I could hardly get anything out of her. I don’t know what her preferences are.”

Luna mirrored her sister’s shrug, her mind already wandering back to the next constellation she had planned; a majestic dragon with wings outspread, belching starfire into the void. It would take her decades to manoeuvre the stars into the correct positions, but she felt the anticipation quickening her blood already. Anyway, Celestia always knew best when it came to these affairs of pony hearts. Luna knew that she shouldn’t interfere.