Dibs on My Sister

By

AJ Aficionado

It’d been a long and eventful night. One would think the novelty of throwing birthday parties for the family would have worn off for the earth mare Roseluck and her bat-pony husband Europa, proud parents of seventeen healthy foals. But much like their enthusiasm for bringing new pony life into the world, celebrating that new life was every bit as important.

After all, it’s not every day a colt turns eighteen.

He’d received presents of course, from everybat in his family and received good news too when Dad announced to the entire household that his son had been accepted to an apprenticeship with the Forest Brethren — diplomats and caretakers of all animal life in the country with the ability to communicate directly with them.

His favorite sister had shown up too, wearing the ‘special’ outfit Mom had bought for her. It was all he could do to hide his arousal, at one point tilting the table with his erection a full seven degrees as the two played hoofsie underneath it. Things might have flown out of the colony entirely if Mom hadn’t shot him a withering gaze. Mom wasn’t normally a mare you’d describe as fierce but her earth pony strength hadn’t dimmed with age and even getting struck with a rolled-up newspaper would feel like having a tree trunk land on your head.

Walking the winding wooden staircase of his ancient tree home with a small pile of wrapped gifts balanced carefully upon his unfurled webbed wings, he passed door after door where his siblings lived, finally reaching the very top of the trunk where he and his younger sister resided. Outside, the sky was growing purple, heralding the coming of the new day and a few hours of relaxation before bedtime for the Rose clan.

“Charon? Is that you?” Called a female voice from behind one of the closed doors.

He’d considered himself as stealthy a stallion as one could find in all Thestralslovakia, but his sister had auditory capabilities far beyond most; capabilities she’d inherited from their equally proficient mother. “Yeah, Phoebe, it’s me.” He shook his head chuckling. “Whatcha up to?”

“Why don’t you come on in and find out, big bro! Or are you too exhausted after turning eighteen?” she replied playfully.

Charon felt a welcome stirring in his loins from the long-promised and often fulfilled promise of promiscuity with his lithe and lovely sister. “Love to, but Dad wants to talk with me on the roof.”

A crack in the door opened, revealing a pair of glowing, jewel-bright, cobalt blue eyes. Stepping outside of the room to reveal herself, the colt-turned stallion could make out the rest of his sister. She was a light, blue-coated slender-framed thestral with a long, straight, spiked dark violet mane, draped over her head and neck like the early dawn just before the rise of the sun. Hardly much taller than a grade-school filly, the top of her mane didn’t even reach to his neck, even if her ears reached well over the top of his head. “Please. Charon! It’s been months since we’ve had the opportunity to be alone and my estrus is kicking my tail, so you can at least put your tongue in my mouth!”

“Whoa! Be careful what you say…” Charon looked over his shoulder, seeing only the empty winding hallway, lined with pictures of his family.

“Mom and Dad aren’t inside the house.” Phoebe’s ears rotated around the hallway like a Fennec fox scanning for prey in its sandy burrow. Charon knew better than to question her on the matter, having seen his sister in action before. Her impressively large sonic sponges had saved the pair a number of times from the discovery of their illicit relationship, at least in the precious few moments of alone time they could steal with each other in their crowded, noisy tree home.

“Those two must be loading supplies into the wagon before flying into town. We’re all alone and Dad can keep for at least a couple of minutes. You could mount me right now and have your way with me and no bat would be the wiser.” Phoebe ducked down and looked between her brother’s legs. “So don’t tell me you aren’t thinking about it… I could see your erection from space!”

Charon’s bathood had indeed dropped out of his sheath even as he tried to balance his bountiful birthday booty on his back. “That would be the creepiest thing anybat had ever done… staring at my dangly bits from outer space. Unless it was Luna; that would just be awesome.” He grinned dreamily at the thought of the Lunar Sovereign waving pom-poms and cheering him on while he walked around the house performing menial tasks.

Phoebe stuck her tongue out at him. “Well, you don’t quite merit Luna’s ears, big bro. Not even with your rugged handsomeness and impressive girth.” She struck a lonely, big-eyed orphan pose, throwing in a quivering pouty lip for effect. “And since you’re unworthy of her, I’m afraid you’re stuck with rutting your little sister into a sweating, panting, moaning heap on the floor.”

The pile of gift-wrapped boxes fell to the floor as Charon’s wings flared to rapt rigidness from sheer arousal. Her words registering on his overheated thoughts as sheer lust, he responded instinctively; the next he knew, he’d forced his tongue roughly into her mouth. Her sister gave a muffled growl as she pushed a startled Charon back slightly, and then drew up on her legs, pinning him to the far wall. Having gained the height advantage, she braced herself on his shoulders and the pair continued their fiery kiss.

“Mmm. Mmmmm!” Charon withdrew with a wet pop, sister’s saliva leaving a long trail down his neck as he began picking up his fallen presents. “Phoebe, seriously! I really need to go talk to Dad first or I’m going to forget about him! If he wants to talk to me alone, it must be very important!”

Or at least, he assumed it was important. One-on-one face time with parents was a rare treat with so many siblings. Mom and Dad had practically worked out a system by which their offspring could take care of themselves out of sheer necessity. “And if I don’t show up, he’s gonna come looking for me!”

Phoebe relented, but only slightly; the smell of her arousal hanging deliciously heavy in the air. “Okay, fine. Only for you, big brother. But don’t make me wait too long!” she giggled before turning back to her room, and flagging her tail to display herself, eliciting a half-choked urk!

With that virile vision ensconced firmly in his memory, he forced herself to turn away from her door, gathered up his discarded presents and lurched forward down the hall, trying to reel his pendulous stallion anchor back into the boat by sheer force of will. It was a nearly impossible battle to fight; the thumping of its head against the floor ringing inside his ears, seemingly intensifying with each step he took and leaving his father — to say nothing of the remaining family inside the household — certain to hear it.

“Please make this quick, Dad!” Charon whispered to himself as he took a few deep breaths and finally brought the motion on the ocean to a halt. Waiting until his stallionhood had retracted at least partway, he regarded the apparently blank stretch of wall in front of him with a tree-ringed knob sticking out of it like it was the mouth of a dragon, not so much because he feared a scolding from his father than that he might yet go fully erect again thinking of his sister in his presence.

“Enough, birthday colt. Let’s just get this over with…” He grabbed at the knob and pushed forward on the hidden door, cut so seamlessly along the rings of the mighty oak tree that you couldn’t even see the gap in the frame, and carefully tipped his wings up to clear the passage. Once inside, he tipped his birthday booty onto the bed.

Exhaling softly from being no longer laden — it wasn’t heavy, just somewhat awkward to carry, and his now-subsiding erection certainly hadn’t helped. Charon opened the balcony door, stepping out onto it. Every home built in the country was designed to be as accessible to flying creatures as possible and so each room had a special platform, free of railings to allow a bat pony to launch off easily.

Regardless, as he flew off, beating his wings with all his might, his dense, muscular earth pony frame he’d inherited from Mom made gaining altitude a tiring affair. Despite the effort — enough to make his already overheated body break a sweat — he did a lap of the roof, weaving through the mighty branches of the tall oak tree, savoring the breeze on his webbed, membrane wings before touching down silently on the roof — the sight of his smiling father looking back at him sitting atop the rough wooden surface. He did it for two reasons — one was to buy time for his erection to subside further, and once he got enough momentum going, use the wind to cool off and dry his perspiration.

A minute later, he was presentable enough. “Hello, son. Happy Birthday!” His Dad thrust his hoof into a box Charon easily recognized despite the near pitch-darkness of the shaded roof as an enchanted portable icebox, one designed to keep drinks cold on family outings. But it was being pressed into service now for a coming-of-age ceremony he’d been looking forward to for months as his father pulled out a glass bottle, proffering it in Charon’s direction. “As you’re now of age, I was going to get you wine, but Mom wanted to try you out on some pony-brewed beer.”

“Wow, thanks, Dad!” The colt had been waiting for years to get his first sip of alcohol and, having finally hit legal age, he saluted his sire and twisted the cap off with his hoof. His effort released the seal with a satisfying hiss — he’d had plenty of practice with bottles of soda pop — allowing him to take a swig.

And promptly make a face. Were he being charitable, he could best describe the taste as unsweetened liquid bread but more than likely the toxic brew he was imbibing would turn him into a Mareval supervillain. He felt his whole body cringe in horror, wondering if he was about to mutate into some hideous creature with an uncontrollable power. And would Phoebe even want him once he did?

“Not a good reaction, I see…” Dad replied with a measure of amusement and satisfaction at his sour look, reaching back into the cooler and pulling out another bottle. “So, you’ve got a thestral’s palate. Have to say, it’s impossible to tell with you foals… three out of your five older siblings responded better to beer than wine. They’re earth ponies at heart, I’d say! But you, apparently, got the earth pony body without the taste buds. So, try this wine cooler instead...”

He tried it and blinked, his frown melting into a pleased smile. “Much better…” he granted, thinking the alcoholic concoction felt and tasted so good it might turn him into a superhero instead. Sire and son then sat silently for some minutes, Charon waiting patiently as Dad savored his first swig of beer. For most ponies, even most fully bred bat ponies, a stallion might spend a bit of time dwelling in his first sip, but not him. Dad would masticate absolutely everything that went into his mouth, solid or liquid against the hard, grooved, chiropteran-like palate at the roof of his mouth like a megabat hanging in a tree with a chunk of plucked fruit.

If he ever tried to get drunk, he’d never make it! The teenage thestral thought to himself with a smirk as they opened their talk by discussing the finer points of talking to animals.

“When your mother and I got together, we had no idea if I’d pass on the gift of animal speaking to any of you foals since she doesn’t have any thestral ancestry, much less Speaker Magic. It’s a wonder I was allowed to even marry a non-thestral at all and retain my noble titles,” his dad mused between his third and fourth sip even as Charon had killed off his entire bottle, already wanting more of the warm feeling and sense of well-being it had given him.

“For the longest time, stallions with our abilities had to marry our own sisters to ensure the preservation of our talents…” He gave his son a wink and only the slightest of nods, causing Charon to freeze internally, the reference hitting a bit too close to home for his liking. “Though it's certainly arguable that our large numbers and high life-expectancy make government force unnecessary and the less-than-consensual aspect of this arrangement spooks our pony neighbors!”

Charon smiled sheepishly, finding himself suddenly very interested in a colony of bats attacking a nearby flowering tree for its hoard of nectarous blossoms. As was his custom with eating, Dad would prefer to chat idly before getting down to whatever it was, he actually wanted to talk to you about. So he didn’t immediately pursue the subject of his sister, preferring to let his son dwell on the uncomfortable topic he knew was coming.

“You’re going to enjoy being a Forest Brother, Charon. It’s the finest job you’ll ever love to hate.” Europa took another sip.

He smiled a bit more wanly. “Yeah, but squirrels... seriously!? I wish I could talk to bats and bears and chimeras like you.” It wasn’t what he’d been hoping for when he signed up, but the animals themselves could somehow comprehend one speaker better than another, regardless of how clearly they spoke. The squirrels had gotten on well with him while the native Thestralslovakian Dog-faced Fruit Bats — TDFFB's for short — just gave him the upside-down meerkat stare and said nothing, acting like he was completely beneath their notice and unworthy of their time or speech.

His dad gave his son a disapproving waggle with his free hoof. “Hey, don’t knock the squirrels! Without them, we’d all be speaking Aeric! Valuable resistance couriers who allowed the original Forest Brethren to learn of our griffon enemy’s every move. Squirrels will teach you everything about our forest if you’re willing to listen.”

Europa went on to give a brief overview of the Pony-Griffon war that raged on at the height of Equestria’s medieval period from the perspective of Thestralslovakia, but completely unlike how they taught it in school. Rather than telling it from the perspective of how the thestrals reacted to the havoc and devastation brought upon their forests, he told the story from the animal kingdom’s point of view.

Chief among the tale was how and when the different species decided to collaborate with the thestrals in the face of a common threat. How the creation of the Wielkoponiska Nature Preserve inside the Everfree Forest served as the hub for the resistance with a population of over ten thousand thestral partisans and Equestrian special forces — an impassable, impenetrable salient near the Griffon Empire’s sole supply line feeding their attack on Canterlot that sapped their strength and perhaps even doomed them to defeat.

Though not as populous now with the war and associated enmity towards all things griffon long since ended, it still boasted a present population of over three thousand thestrals. It was the only significant settlement of any sapient species to exist in the Everfree, and it was only made possible by being able to speak to the wild and normally hostile forest animals.

Charon hung on to his every word, but as dear old Dad finished his bottle and slapped it down on the roof next to him, he knew the time had come…

He steeled himself, trying to choke back the renewed erection that threatened to burst forth again from his loins. He had assumed that such a difficult discussion topic would prevent such a reaction, but just thinking of his sister's overwhelming libido overrode his anxiety and threatened to send him surging to attention again.

If his father noticed his sudden squirming, he gave no immediate indication. “In fairness, you should give beer another chance sometime, Charon. I grant it does take some getting used to, but I did. Once you come to like it, you’ll look forward to it, especially after a workout.” Dad gave his massive wings a stretch and grunted. “But as you can probably guess, we aren’t here to listen to war stories.” The elder folded his wings back up and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Tomorrow, as you well know, is the first day of the Callisto’s Call.”

Charon sighed heavily, his six inches of partially exposed stallion meat suddenly shrinking back to three. “And my sister is going to start looking for mates…”

His dad nodded. The Callisto’s Call was every thestral colt’s rite of passage, with the sole exception of those with the gift of animal speech. They were granted a special exemption due to their connection with the natural world.

On the seventeenth year of a colt’s life, during the start of the first new moon of the summer, each was gifted his own weapon he’d trained with in adolescence, and then set out to hunt and kill a wild beast in one of the nature preserves that made up the majority of the country’s landmass. The following morning, successful hunters would present their kill to the fillies of the town or city, aged sixteen to nineteen, and propose marriage to the one they most desired.

If they accepted the adolescent’s offering — the more exotic and dangerous the beast, the more worthy the kill in her eyes — she would then gift him bread and fruit in return. Bread cost a lot of money in Thestralslovakia due to limited grain supply in the hilly, arboreal terrain that made up the vast majority of the country. Likewise, the choice of fruit was important, as imported mangos were far more expensive, and thus prized. It was entirely possible to gauge a filly’s wealth and social status entirely by looking at the meal she offered.

And Phoebe was quite well-connected, coming as she did from a rather renowned family with connections in government. A family with a bloodline that meant many of its members could talk to animals, even if most of them weren’t particularly excited about having to deal with an earth pony in their family tree. That and Phoebe herself couldn't speak to any animal if she tried.

Still, it wasn’t as if he could blame a potential suitor for desiring her. She had everything a colt looked for in a thestral mare. She was an excellent cook, her earth pony blood meant she could grow produce that full-blooded thestral farmers could only dream of while still looking as pureblooded a thestral as they come. And she was built for speed — her small, sleek and streamlined body was mated to a pair of luxuriously large wings that allowed her to cut through the air like an arrow let loose from a compound bow.

Even pegasi had to acknowledge both her swiftness and grace when the weather teams came into town to challenge the locals to a race. Most importantly of all, she had uncommonly large ears, inherited from her mother — an irresistible draw for the Moon worshippers as Luna’s auricles as well as those of all the Goddesses of the Lunar pantheon were revered as the mark of deity. They streamed behind Phoebe like the war banners Maregolian officers carried into battle atop their backs as she soared through the sky.

And the prospect of her being married off wasn’t even the worst news as far as Charon was concerned. While the original stated intent of the hunt was for two thestrals to find love, old laws were repealed to keep non-participants from visiting the hunters where they camped and also pruned certain discriminatory action measures against dishonor. The outcome of which was hookups for casual sex at the hunt was becoming more and more common.

One particular fan of this change was Phoebe’s mom, who wasted no time in regaling her daughter with tales of sexual conquests achieved at the Hunt in her youth back when doing so was still highly illegal and would get you permanently banned from entering the country.

The most likely outcome for Phoebe from the above factors was an endless parade of unworthy stallions, pumping her with their seed and then dumping her without a second thought in a bid to honor her mother’s misguided wishes. Even Charon’s dad, who was never a supporter of the Hunt and considered it a bygone relic of a more brutal age, couldn’t stomach the tawdry spectacle in store for her daughter and the youth of Thestralslovakia unless parliament reversed course. As for Charon himself, the mere consideration of his soulmate being passed around like gnawed carrion among vultures brought bile to his throat.

Europa mopped his forehead and neck with a napkin. It had been a very warm and sticky night, and to see his dad so sweaty, Charon had the sudden thought that maybe he’d been overly-cautious in trying to hide his own persperation. “Yes, son. mates," Dad replied. "Your Mom is very… insistent… that her daughter has every chance to express her sexuality freely.” He placed his head in his hooves and drew them slowly across his face as if contemplating his impending execution.

Charon bowed his head and ears. “There’s really nothing you can do, Dad?”

“Could I work out one miracle? Sure. But two? Not a chance in the Twisting Nether. Roseluck, your mother, was quite the wild one when she was your age… Got started young and had very many partners.” Dad looked up at his son, his eyes wary and fearful. “Understand, son, that I’m not insecure about my standing with Roseluck or judgemental of the choices she made long before she knew me, but there’s this... insatiable hunger in those chartreuse eyes of hers. A hunger that remains even long after she settled down with me.

Charon was greeted with the mental image of a small group of fully erect earth stallion construction workers, eyes locked on his dear mother and she gazed back on them with hooded eyes. At that moment, he thought he felt his mother's thrill of being cornered and taken advantage of. And he banished the thought soon after, cursing his imagination and the sudden surge of arousal that accompanied it.

“I know how it sounds, but there’s something primal and unbound that lurks within your mother’s core… And I can see it in Phoebe’s eyes too, son. She has carried that same restless spirit within her ever since her first estrus. May Luna have mercy upon us all should she act on her passions.”

His father fell silent, leaving the teenaged thestral alone with his thoughts. Dad had never been so upfront with him about his relationship with Mom. They always seemed to get along well and agree on everything. If Dad ever raised his voice, which was a rare occurrence indeed, it was to get one of the foals in line or scold them for some wrongdoing. It made Charon’s head hurt to even think of the two of them discussing his sister’s growing lust for sexual attention. Parents just shouldn’t even know about that stuff!

“You worked a miracle?” Charon finally spoke.

“Indeed. When Roseluck and I got married, before we had any foals, we agreed that our sons should be raised up according to my wishes and the traditions of Luna’s children, while our daughters would be raised according to her values and those of the United Pony Tribes of Equestria.

“It was a simple arrangement, but with a dangerous flaw. Roseluck would allow all of our daughters to run free as soon as they hit puberty and bring ruin upon us all. So, with all the diplomatic skill I could muster, I further convinced Rose to allow all of you foals to remain celibate until you turned sixteen — the age of consent — so as not to bring shame upon them in the eyes of Thestral society. I’m not quite sure the message set in with you and Phoebe, though...” Dad gave a dry laugh as Charon wished evermore to be back inside the house, wrapped up in bed with his amorous sister instead of being teased for wanting to do it.

“Aw come on, Dad…” His squirming re-intensified as another several inches of his organ wormed its way out of his sheath. Did he really have to rub it in the face the last time he’d found evidence of their crimes? Though he’d warned them to make it less obvious what they were up to in the future and hadn’t run to Mom to turn them in, he still knew, and now they were going to talk about it directly.

But if that was the ransom Charon would have to pay to see his sister one last time while she was solely his, then so be it. “Look, if we’re gonna talk about this, can I at least have another drink?”

Grinning, Europa reached into the cooler and grabbed another wine cooler. “I suppose one more won’t hurt. Here you go!”

“Thank you.” Charon accepted the drink and thanked the Moon above that he was at least being well-compensated for his lost bedroom time, twisting the cap off with another hiss of escaping vapor.

“Don’t mention it, son! In fact, I wish to thank you…”

Charon coughed, half of his mouthful of wine cooler going down the wrong pipe. “You, what!?”

“I want to thank you, Charon…” his father reiterated. “You have proven yourself more than worthy of taking your sister’s hoof in marriage. Seeing the love between you two grow over the last six years has brought me a profound sense of satisfaction I simply cannot put into words.”

Charon’s bottle trembled in his hoof as stared into his father’s eyes, brimming with something like pride, unwilling to allow himself to accept it. “But Dad… H-How can you think that? Mom would kill us if she found out!” If not sooner!

Dad leaned back against the trunk of the tree, giving a satisfied groan as he flexed his powerful wing-arms. “Am I to believe that you think you’ve been carrying on your secret relationship for all these years, and your own Dad wasn’t on your team the entire time? Come on. I’ve been doing all I can to give you two lovebats some space so you could continue developing as a couple — at great risk of losing face with your mom, I might add!”

“But Mom nearly thumped me the last time she caught us making out!” Charon pleaded, gesticulating wildly. “How can you be so calm about this? How are you not fearing for our sanity or future right now?”

Dad rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Like I said… Because I know true love when I see it. And just maybe because your dad thinks Mom gets it wrong every now and then. Don’t tell her I said that, though or I'm the one who has to pay!”

Charon remained silent, waiting respectfully for his sire to continue; the anxiety slowly beginning to ebb away. He knew his son’s deepest, darkest secret and yet did not hate him, even going out of his way to smooth the way for him. That counted for something, even if he wasn’t sure what that something was.

“Since it's clear you haven't been told before how romantic relationships with your family work in our world, let me take a moment to explain it all to you. First, what you must understand is that your mother… is a Pony. Ponies come from a very different culture; one that emphasizes unity and harmony between the races that comprise it. It’s a lot to explain but to put it briefly, it has to do with their long, violent history of civil war and ethnic conflict and the desire to see it finally end. They are xenophilic to a fault, always wanting to spread their cultural influence outward to bind others to them. What they didn’t outright conquer and consume, they brought into an alliance.

That’s how they became masters of this continent… including Thestralslovakia.” Europa made a sweep with his mighty wings toward the sky. “We can’t begrudge it. It was their destiny to expand to ultimately survive or wipe themselves out. And we now live in the Pax Equestriana that followed.”

Charon couldn’t help but find it odd to think of his own mother as a different race, much less a conquerer when she’d pass out cold after losing a rosebush over the winter. But the thought was lost as his father went on.

“To a pony, inbreeding is considered the ultimate taboo: a return to a darker time when tribal affiliation determined loyalty and everypony suffered as a result.” Europa fell silent to take another drink, noisily slopping it around inside his mouth. “Understandable in its historical context like tribal hatred but now a dangerous liability.”

Charon scratched his head, carefully considering Europa’s words. “So, Mom thinks if I marry my sister, we’ll start to hate ponies like her?”

Europa swallowed, placing his bottle between his hind legs near his groin — Charon politely not calling attention to his father’s exposed bathood, coiled up on the roof like a slumbering snake, if not completely ignoring it. It was so unlike his own, much thinner and tube-shaped with a diminutive glans, though just as impressive in length as his. And certainly, up to the challenge of siring foals, given his sixteen siblings! Left unasked was why it'd fallen out of his sheath in the first place. He isn't getting turned on talking about his daughter, surely. Charon wondered to himself. That would just be... weird. He has Mom after all.

“Not quite as literally as you’ve stated it, but true in a sense," Europa finally replied after a significant pause.

Europa made another sweep of the surrounding forest with his wings. "All creatures possess a collective memory that is difficult to articulate with precision. We all intuitively grasp those things which will harm us and assist us. Consider the Thestral race as a contrary example to that of the ponies. We have lived surrounded by natural barriers for thousands of years, safe from most threats but surrounded by larger and more powerful tribes distinctly different in both appearance and temperament.

Even when one grew large enough to conquer us, we endured by sticking together and sleeping together. Our conquerors could never remove us entirely from our forests for our refusal to see ourselves as part of them, culturally or genetically. And so we grew apart from the outside world while regional rivals rose and fell around us. While ponies overcame annihilation by being xenophilic, forming a cohesive identity from disparate parts, we survived by becoming xenophobic, seeing our forest home as an island and the outside world a threat.”

It was odd to hear a secondhoof account of what his neighbors and countrybats thought about so important a topic to him but being homeschooled his entire life and having few friends, his breadth of knowledge was confined to his schoolbooks and whatever the rest of his family found important. The traditional nature of his upbringing wasn’t much help either; Charon strongly suspected the only reason he was being told any of this now was because he was of age.

Now, it was all starting to make sense. “So inbreeding isn’t taboo to thestrals, is it?”

“It is to some who’ve become Equestrianized over the centuries, and it’s not something you talk about with ponies or thestrals who are sensitive about the topic for fear of offense, certainly. But not to most, Charon. And not to me, even if I am nothing more than a sweet-tooth pony lover who married your mother.” He rolled his eyes at the phrase.

Charon cringed at the use of the phrase ‘sweet-tooth’, a deceptively playful way of addressing thestrals who forsake their heritage by marrying ponies, treating it as a dangerous and degenerate fetish.

Even growing up largely isolated from the world around him, evidence of the thestral's tendency towards tribalism was everywhere in how they spoke about the other races: in print media, snippets of conversation picked up while walking about in town, and in discourse with some of Dad's animal-speaking coworkers. It was an unavoidable fact that thestrals regarded ponies as misguided and naive — their presence tolerated only out of the inherent decency and politeness afforded the superior character of thestrals. And that said nothing of the more radical opinions of other thestrals who saw the ponies and their ideas as subversive and dangerous.

When Charon's own father had been referred to as 'sweet tooth' by a political rival of his grandfather, an important politician, in the news, his dad went on to explain to him what it meant. Seeing his obvious disgust at the mistreatment, Dad was quick to point out that popular opinion had softened from outright persecution to passive-aggressive sniping, for the most part. Still, the elite in both the religious and civil authorities, especially old-line noble families like theirs, made it a point of arranging marriages amongst their circles and in many cases even allowed for incestual pairings to retain their desirable physical features and mystical talents. Not to do so would be 'wrong'. Unnatural, like the offspring such mixed relations produced.

His father noticed his reaction. "That phrase still holds power over you, Charon. I can see it in your eyes, even now after many years. Do not resent the label ‘sweet-tooth’, my son, or the thestrals who use it. It’s all just harmless words now, and words have no power but what we allow them. At the end of the day, we are one colony under the Night, free to marry whomever we please.”

All well for Dad to say but he’s a ‘proper’ thestral, Charon couldn’t help but think to himself. “I guess you’re right Dad. Still, the idea that I was born wrong is kinda bringing me down. I’m not really a thestral or a pony, am I? So, is that what other thestrals really think of me? That I was born wrong?”

Dad studied his son pensively, forehooves pressed together before speaking. “To some, Charon but not all. If it makes you feel any differently, there are thestrals that still hold a grudge against other thestrals based on national borders that ceased to exist two thousand years ago. A bit of a waste of time, if you ask me, holding ill-will towards those who’ve never harmed you or even met you. You’ll never get universal positivity from others, wherever you live or whoever your parents are. To demand such respect makes you no better than those who’d curse your name for being born… ‘wrong’.”

“Dad?”

Charon couldn’t be sure but he thought he saw a look of disgust come over his father’s face before he dismissed the thought with a carefree wave. “Forgive me, I just got lost in old memories… Put that out of your mind for now. That is a discussion for another time. My original point was that I knew where things between you and Phoebe were destined to end the day you both got your cutie mark.”

Far from being a pleasant memory, his wings flared up in anger and frustration. “I wanted to tell everybat what had happened but I couldn’t!” Charon gave an angry snort. “I wanted to tell all the world… and I couldn’t…” he deflated just as quickly as he’d gotten upset. "I can't win, Dad. Not with thestrals who think I was born wrong or with my own Mom..."

Europa stood up, walked over to his son and embraced him, massaging his son’s back with a comforting wing. “I know, son. I know. Let it all out. It's okay...”

Charon sobbed and blinked tears from his eyes. All the frustration from so many years of hiding his feelings can welling up from inside him, unwanted emotions long-buried leaking into his sire's coat as he finally allowed himself to grieve for the first time in the presence of somebat who understood his pain. It was comforting somehow, the negative feelings draining away with each sob, replaced by Dad's encouragement and support.

“Remember five years ago? I stayed with her every single day she was sick. It was like the Goddesses had conspired to see her die… one illness after another. I'll never forget the suffering she went through — we all went through! Then she’d been bed-ridden for so long, she developed that fungal infection on her wing!” Charon could still remember the foul-smelling green slime, like the bottom of a warm creek that coated her underwing. It had to be sprayed down with a special potion five times a day before it cleared up. It was a task Charon took upon himself to perform as Mom had other sick foals to comfort that year and no wings to speed up the process.

“I still remember her night terrors as well. The only thing that seemed to make her feel better was having you sleeping next to her.” Europa’s gaze met his son’s as he finished speaking. “But as your father, I can’t say I was excited about exposing you to her bouts of illness. You took a great risk with your health!”

“I know, but I don’t care. I’d do it again, Dad…”

The two males released their embrace, Charon feeling somehow much better with himself, even if the world seemed as bleak as ever.

Dad smiled. “I know you would, Charon. There was something between you two even before you both were christened with the edelweiss on your flanks. You’ve borne an adult’s burden for longer than you had any right, and you’ve one last battle to claim your sister’s heart — the decisive one.”

His wings slumped at the statement. “But she’s leaving, Dad… It’s over.” Charon turned his face to Moon, gazing mournfully on his Sovereign Luna's former prison, feeling no greater liberty than she'd had.

Dad picked his bottle off the roof and saluted his son with it. “Not if you too can pull off a miracle…”

“But if even your miracle couldn’t work…”

“Then both of ours can!” Dad finished for him. “Mom and I are headed into Horsawa for a day on the town. I’ve let her know that you and Phoebe are simply too sleepy to join us after your important night. I may have also prevaricated a bit by mentioning Phoebe's newfound excitement for the coming Callisto's Call event and how much she loves her special outfit to ease her paranoia of leaving the two of you home alone. You’re going to have the house all to yourself.”

Charon felt a rising sense of anticipation and perhaps even... hope? “All to myself?” His excitement surged again along with the blood to his shaft. It drew his father’s eyes, who gave it an approving—and perhaps even slightly envious—nod.

“All to yourself,” he confirmed, his expression turning wistful; for just a moment, his hoof migrated down to his own bathood and made a stroking motion.

Wait—is he turned on by the idea of me and Phoebe getting it on? Charon suddenly wondered. But before the question could be considered, an alarm rang, the sound emanating from his dad’s direction, causing Charon to jump back in surprise.

“Oh, shoot! Sorry, son, I have to get going…” his dad pulled out a small timer from his wingpit. “Mom makes me carry this blasted thing around because she says I’m always late for everything! Well, she’s not wrong. But for tonight, Phoebe is all yours! I’m going to wind the time up for you to let you know when we’re coming back. I’ll keep her attention for a bit. In the meantime, you have four hours to talk your sister into staying with us and finishing up any, erm… extracurricular assignments you two may have going on.”

“But… but what do I do, Dad? How do I stop her from leaving us?” Charon pleaded, but Dad was already beating his wings to go airborne.

“Simple. Just offer her a better deal than what she’ll be getting!” He gave a bat-like shriek and jumped off the roof, disappearing briefly from sight before soaring over the roof to give his son one final exhortation before dropping the kitchen timer into his waiting hoof.

“Don’t let me down, son!” he shouted back before flapping off into the night.

Charon cupped the hard plastic timekeeper in his hoof, feeling the weight of its significance before deciding against going back inside. Mindlessly, he tucked the timer under his wing as he stepped toward the door leading out to the hall and to the room where his destiny lay, alone and needy.

He hesitated, an itching at the back of his mind, stopped him. He had forgotten something important. Looking around the room and seeing nothing significant, his search brought him to look down at his flank, seeing the ornate white mountain flower glowing dimly in the wan moonlight. This was it. This was the thing he was forgetting!

This flower meant everything to their relationship, their shared symbol of love.

If he was going to fulfill his duty to both the family and himself, he would need to bring her flowers. Their flowers. He turned back to the window, resolving on flying down to the greenhouse at once and giving his sister a pleasant surprise.

Single-mindedly focused on his new task, he stepped out to the balcony and throwing caution to the wind, extended his wings and launched himself off the balcony, flapping off towards the yard.

Author's Note

Edited 4/11/2021

Edited again on 8/25/2021