Fall of the Alicorns

by Persianjuliette

Rating: everyone
Tags: Romance, Spike, Comedy, Tragedy, Adventure, Discord, Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Princess Cadance, Sad
Length: 11674

Have you ever wondered what happened to the alicorns?

Have you ever wondered what happened to the alicorns?

Where did Cadence and the princesses come from? What is a draconequus? Why is Spike the only "tame" dragon? The answers are revealed in the events that lead to the destruction and rebirth of Equestria, witnessed by a group of ponies who will soon become more than a group of friends- they will become the forgers of the Elements of Harmony.

Enter the darkest days of Equestria's history as Wide Eyes seeks her destiny, and brings together a group of lifelong friends in the process.

From the court of King Constallis and Queen Golden Horn, to the shadowy lairs of dragons and the dark myths of a new draconequus, to political treachery and a horrifying coup, to the farthest reaches of a forgotten kingdom and the discovery of a new salvation, to the rise of Celestia and Luna, to the thrill of true love, this historical tale- inspired by the events in Discordantly by CosmicUnicorn- follows one alicorn's tragic rise and fall as she lives through the events that lead to the Equestria we all know and love.

Art by me, as always. Cover art colored by CosmicUnicorn

Published 2012-09-05 22:54:02 UTC
Last updated 2012-10-04 21:38:11 UTC

Prologue

Disclaimer: CC Cover art and all written material within is intellectual property of user Persianjuliet, and may not be used without consent of the author.

My Little Pony and all related characters are property of Hasbro and Lauren Faust.

Song: Dying Isn't Easy by Damon Albarn

You, and everypony else who reads this, will know me as the Oracle. Nopony has called me by my real name for years, and sometimes I whisper it to myself so I don’t forget it either. My parents named me Wide Eyes, and that is the name I wish to be remembered by. Yet I was named Oracle by Constallis; named Oracle and Dragon-Killer and, eventually, Traitor. You all believe me a legend, you short-lived ponies. Maybe you’re right. But I wasn’t always old and jaded. Once I was only a filly, a naïve alicorn named Wide Eyes. Once, I was just like you. I write this so other ponies may know the story of my life, and so I won’t be remembered only as a myth and a monster. I write this so all the alicorns who perished because of my folly will finally have a legacy. Before I die- and thanks to my magic, I know it will be soon- I want to record my life as I lived it, and perhaps some ponies will read this and understand who I was.

I am old now, and I have seen countless generations of the so-called “mortal” ponies pass before my eyes. It strikes me, as it has so often done before, that they lead richer and more fulfilling lives than any alicorns I knew. Perhaps the shortness and unpredictable nature of their lives is a blessing. It allows them to live with abandon. They spend their love more easily, with the knowledge that there is a finite time in which to spend it. Sometimes, I regret not having this freedom. I spend my days alone in my rooms, drowning in mouldering luxury. I live in the past, reliving my younger days as my weakened body plays itself out. Muscles that used to revel in movement and flight now torment me. The wide brown eyes that I was named for, once so clear and sharp, betray me. I see things that cannot be. Ponies that are long dead crowd my vision. This is the sign that I myself foresaw, the sign that I will soon die. I shall not fight it- there is nothing left for me here. Everypony I have known and loved is gone, and my purpose in life is long past. Low Tide, Pirouette, Sweet and Sour, Periwinkle, French Braid, Gap Tooth, Sky Dive, Persimmon, Conch Horn, Twinkle Star, Bronco, little Snack Attack, and all the others. Even my North Star passed away after what seems like such a tragically short time. Now my own cutie mark seems to mock me- for what is there left to prophesy? I shall record this, for my own selfish pride and a misbegotten sense of legacy, and then I shall die, alone in my rotting palace.

01- Meet Wide Eyes

Disclaimer: CC Cover art and all written material within is intellectual property of user Persianjuliet, and may not be used without consent of the author.

My Little Pony and all related characters are property of Hasbro and Lauren Faust.

Song: Wide Eyes by Local Natives

I was never very good at anything. Growing up among so many talented ponies, this proved to be a real setback. Not that anyone teased me or outright bullied me- I was always forgotten, left on the fringes of groups. When others were having birthday parties, I was sitting at home. When outings happened and memories were made, I was never included. I spent my entire foalhood on the periphery of life; I was the observer, the outsider. I see now that I have always been the observer- the Oracle who watches the life of a kingdom. My childhood only prepared me for that.

In the end, there was one thing that set me apart from the others. I couldn’t hide it forever, and eventually it became apparent to my peers that I, the oft-forgotten Wide Eyes, had never received her Cutie Mark. The attention of my fellows, and in time, the townsponies, turned to me and my oddity. Being singled out like that was a wholly new and uncomfortable experience for me. Having never received attention of any kind, I was awkward and ashamed of what I thought was a deformity.

For a time, I had thought that perhaps I was just a late bloomer. Maybe I would be the last in my class to receive it; but that wasn’t the case. After a while, the absence of a Cutie Mark of any kind became worrying. I was encouraged to branch out and find something, anything that interested me. I became a jack-of-all-trades, moving from mentor to mentor, subject to subject. It was long obvious that I wouldn’t take after my parents- the owners of the fanciest restaurant in town- due to my deficient skills in cooking and my lack of interest in management. I had no specific skill in magic- just basic abilities. My flying was passable, but nothing special. I was not athletic, and though I was smarter than average and a quick reader, nothing had come of it. But when my younger brothers received their Cutie Marks more than two years after I should have gotten mine, my parents decided that more drastic measures needed to be taken.

In those days, problems and queries would be taken to the Town Council- any truly important questions were presented to the King and Queen. The land that you know as Equestria was sparsely populated, and the population of long-lived alicorns was dwindling. My town, Branbury, had the largest population of alicorns to be found outside of the capitol city- the city now known as Canterlot. Back then, the short-lived races of unicorns, pegasi, and Earth ponies were scarce, but growing fast. As a young alicorn, I had met no ponies other than my own kind, and was only vaguely aware of them. The only place where the four races of ponykind mingled was the bustling capitol, where King Constallis and Queen Golden Horn held court. That, I discovered, was where I was to be taken. Perhaps the great minds of the land would know what to make of me- a nearly-grown filly with no Cutie Mark.

When I heard the news, I went alone to my secret hideout. It was a sheltered grove of pine trees on a cliff overlooking the ocean. Nopony else knew about it, and ever since foalhood I had worked to make it my home-away-from-home. I had constructed a crude shelter that blocked out the wind, and there was a threadbare mat to curl up on. The view of the rocky beach and the steel-colored ocean was incredible, and I found it restful to curl up in my little shelter and stare into the water until my mind went completely blank. On that day, the wind was unusually calm. I built a small fire and sat on my well-worn rug. My mind was racing, filled with conflict, but the sight of the flame licking against the edges of the gray sky calmed me. I stayed there for hours, thinking slow thoughts and feeling uneasy.

The younger races, as we called them, believe alicorns to be immortal. This is only partly correct; for while we live far longer than other equines, we do eventually age and die. All of us, that is, except those of purest alicorn blood. It may be possible that alicorn royalty is eternal, but no Royal has managed to live forever. All eventually die, through mishap, foul play, or that certain madness brought on by longevity. Some whisper that the madness may be hereditary, passed down through inbreeding and bad blood. I, at any rate, am only a common alicorn, and thoughts of my mortality weighed heavily on my mind that evening. I was in a grim mood, and the unfeeling ocean exacerbated the feeling.

Once, just before nightfall, I saw a lone dragon flying south. He moved slowly over the ocean, and I thought I heard a lonely roar as he passed out of sight. I wonder if dragons have Cutie Marks, or something like them, I thought. Maybe that dragon’s like me. Maybe he’s alone because he never got his Cutie Mark either, and he’s trying to find a place where he can be special. I cried a little then, as the setting sun bled fire into the waters of the horizon. Maybe I would have flown away that night. Maybe I would have followed that lonely dragon, trying to find a paradise, or at least a solution. But I went home. I turned my back on that tranquil grove for that last time, and flew back to my home and my troubles.

I had never been away from home before, apart from short trips along the coast, and I packed everything I thought I might need. My parents weren’t accompanying me, which made me even more anxious. Instead, I was to be escorted by my cousin, Low Tide. He was three years older than me, and a seasoned traveler. A dark blue pony with a stormy gray mane and tail, he was tall at the shoulder but willowy, the perfect build for a pony whose time was spent in ocean flights. Low’s Cutie Mark was a cresting wave, revealing to all his deep love of the sea. He was an accomplished fisherpony, and brought in more sea-grass and kelp for the markets than anypony else on the coast. However, he was often in Canterlot on business, and was trusted to keep me safe. I didn’t know him well- he was always out flying the ocean- but I liked him well enough. He was high-tempered and impatient, but funny and quick with a joke.

The reason I liked Low better than my other extended family was this. When I was still a mere foal and quite young enough for my blank flank condition to be unremarkable, something happened that stood out in my memory even years afterward. I was wandering alone on the rocky beach in a particularly foul mood after some schoolfoal slight, kicking stones into the cold water and scowling at flotsam. I would have scowled at passers-by, but nopony else was nearby. While I had wandered, I hadn’t been paying attention to where I walked. Somehow, walking over the stones exposed by the pull of the tide, I had managed to strand myself behind the rising water on a spit of land, and I was cut off. Trapped on an outcrop of rock, I panicked and began to wail. I couldn’t fly, having injured my wings in a fall the previous week. I didn’t dare to swim in the slate-colored water, either- a friend of my parents had died trying to fight the notorious undercurrent, and they regaled us with the cautionary tale at every opportunity.

As I said, nopony was near- or so I had thought. Just as I was about to give up screaming and test myself against the riptide, a shadow fell over me. The young colt Low Tide swooped out of the clouds and landed beside me with a flutter of blue wings.

“How’d you get like this, kid?” he asked quizzically. I stomped my hoof, slipped, and almost fell into the dark water.

“I didn’t do it on purpose, dummy!” I was too scared to stay angry, however. “Help me out, Low. I’m stuck.”

The dark-coated colt considered me carefully. “I guess this is kind of a sticky situation.”

I rolled my eyes expressively. “Well, duh.”

“No, I mean I’m not big enough to fly you out. We’ll have to swim.”

“What?” I exclaimed. “Just go get a grownup! They can fly me out.”

“The water’s rising too fast, dummy. You’ll drown.”

I trembled, too scared at the prospect of drowning to retort. “What about the undercurrent?”

A gleam sparked in his eye. I didn’t see it then, but that moment was a turning point for little Low Tide. “I know how to get around it. Come on!”

Before I could open my mouth to protest, he shoved me, and I was flailing in the icy water.

Somehow, he navigated the current and, clutching me firmly with one foreleg, dragged us ashore. I don’t remember much of the rescue- panic and the shock of the wintry ocean clouded my mind- but I do remember sitting in my parents’ house, the two of us blanketed and surrounded by concerned adults, when I exclaimed, “Low! Your flank!”

It was his bravery in rescuing me and his cleverness in avoiding the undercurrent that brought him his Cutie Mark that day. Though we didn’t see much of each other, we shared that connection, and I knew he remembered it just as well as I did.

Saying goodbye to everypony was disturbingly quick- I hugged my parents and younger brothers, checked my supplies one more time and left, Low Tide beside me. There were no tearful goodbyes from friends, no shy glances or kisses from a special somepony. My heart was heavy as we rose into the air, and I didn’t look back at the town that was my lifelong home. Somehow, it didn’t feel like home at all. The sight of the cresting waves against the shore below us reminded me of the dragon. I wished I had seen it up close, not knowing that in a few short weeks my misguided wish would be granted a thousand-fold.

02- Pirouettes and Porpoises

Disclaimer: CC Cover art and all written material within is intellectual property of user Persianjuliet, and may not be used without consent of the author.

My Little Pony and all related characters are property of Hasbro and Lauren Faust.

Song: Not Invincible by Something Like Tuesday

We flew at a steady pace, just below the cloud level. Our wings beat in time, creating a rhythmic thump. The sound of our wingbeats and the rush of air, cold against our faces, drowned out all other sounds. In order to hear each other, we flew as close as our wingspans would allow and raised our voices until we were almost shouting.

Low Tide was talkative to the point of being garrulous. His constant flow of conversation prompted me to break my silence, and before an hour had passed I found myself chattering as much as he was. I was a naturally talkative pony, but rarely found an opportunity to engage in conversation without feeling self-conscious about my abnormality. Despite myself, my spirits were lifted, and I found myself confiding in Low my worries about our arrival in the capitol.

“I know I’m much too old to still be a blank flank- everypony seems to think that I just need to apply myself more. But I’ve tried everything, and I’m still like this. I don’t know what they’re going to think of me in the city. I bet everypony will stare at me,” I added gloomily. “And what if it turns out I’m not good at anything? Will I stay like this forever?”

Low Tide’s messy forelock fell into his eyes, and he tossed his head. “You’re worrying too much. Even if the scholars don’t know what to do about it, you can bet the King and Queen will be able to find a way to get you your Cutie Mark. They’re the wisest and most magical ponies in the world.”

I said nothing. His confident words, echoing what my parents had told me, didn’t do much to allay my fear. Noticing my reaction, he added “And no one will notice you’re a blank flank if you wear a dress and keep your wings folded.”

I sighed heavily. “I thought of that, but I don’t really have any dresses- nothing that would be passable for the city.”

He smiled widely, chuckling into the cold wind. “That shouldn’t be a problem. I have a friend in the city who would be more than happy to take you shopping.”

“Who?”

“Her name’s Pirouette. She’s a city pony- cosmopolitan and stylish- but she’s also very sweet and sensitive. I’m sure you’ll like her.”

His voice had taken on a strange dreamy tone. I stole a glance at him. His eyes were glazed, and not from the wind. A faint smile flickered across his lips. I grinned.

“Is Pirouette your very special somepony?”

Startled, he missed a beat and dropped a few feet in the air. Flapping to regain his place, he gasped, “Did High tell you?”

High Tide was Low’s older sister. The only fisherpony with more natural talent than Low, she had married a few years before and settled down. They were infamous in town for their exploits as foals- she had always been the ringleader. Old ponies in the town still talked about the time High Tide convinced her brother to drape himself in seaweed and stand on her shoulders so they could pretend to be a sea monster and scare passers-by.

I shook my head, giggling at his miss-flight. “No, High never said anything like that. You’re just not very good at hiding it.”

He shrugged, obviously embarrassed. “I suppose not. High found out right away, but promised not to tell. I just don’t want folks talking about it. I see her every time I visit the capitol. She’s… absolutely wonderful.”

“How did you meet her?”

“Well, you know that I take trips there as the head of the Coastal Fisherponies group?”

“Yes.”

“The first time I ever visited the city, I got- well, I got lost.”

I tittered, and he blushed. “Well, it’s a big city for a small-town pony! You’ll see when we get there. Anyway, I wandered into the uptown shopping district, where all the rich ponies go. There I was, a ragged-looking colt smelling like seawater, and when I turned a corner I bumped right into her. She was toting a ton of shopping bags full of expensive clothes and mare-things- makeup and such- and they scattered all over the street. I helped her pick them up, apologizing the whole time, but she was very kind about it. She said she had never met anypony like me before, which I’m sure is true. We began talking and meeting for coffee, and- well, the rest is history. That happened more than two years ago.”

“That’s a great story,” I exclaimed. I was charmed by the romance of it. Nothing romantic ever happened in Branbury. “Are you two going to get married?”

The smile faded from his face, and he looked troubled. “I don’t know, Wide Eyes. We’ve talked about it, but she’s a city pony through and through. She has a life and a career in the capitol; she’s one of the lead dancers in the Royal Ballet. My life and business is the ocean; it always will be. She could never move away, and neither could I. She knows that.”

“I’m sorry.” I said quietly. He shrugged. We flew on in silence.

Our set course, Low had explained, would take us just to the north of the sprawling Unicorn Range of mountains- so named for the startling regularity and neatness that so made them resemble the distinguishing feature of unicorns (one which alicorns shared, of course). The Canter River wound through the mountains, connecting the sea to Canterlot. As we got nearer to Canterlot, the mountains would dwindle into rolling hills, according to Low’s map. Three day’s flight, and we would be there.

I was used to living surrounded by mountains on one side, with the vast and endless ocean on the other. My home was among the valleys and the evergreens, and this trip was daunting. Every time I remembered the image of the city-mountain of Canterlot, stamped on the map as clear and stark as a hoofprint, I shuddered.

As the sun was setting, we passed over the great, slow-moving Canter River. We were a good ways inland by that time, and the absence of the ocean from my immediate sight was disturbing and unfamiliar. It bothered Low Tide too, I could tell. I felt bad about him and Pirouette, but what could I do? Low was right; they could never be together. Yet it bothered me, and the problem was forefront in my mind when Low disappeared from my side.

I whipped my head about for a moment, frantically looking for him, when I spotted him below me. He was diving down toward the vast, sluggish spread of the Canter below us, and I followed, calling out. I wasn’t angry at his strange and sudden action, only bewildered and a little curious. By the time I caught up to him, he had leveled out and was skimming the surface of the water. “What in the name of Golden Horn are you doing, Low?”

“Watch this,” he called enigmatically. Irritated yet intrigued, I hovered. I watched as he dipped one trailing hoof into the water and flew in a looping pattern.

“That’s very pretty, but what-”

“Shh!”

In an instant, I saw what he was talking about. Only inches away from my perilously positioned cousin, a large dark shape rocketed out of the water and flipped over, to land again with a great splash.

“Holy Harmony!” I gasped. “What in the world was that?”

“That, my kelp-brained little cousin, was a river porpoise.” He was grinning, smug with his own cleverness and pleased with the obvious amazement on my face. He laughed at my expression. “You should see yourself. Your eyes are so big, you look like a yellow-and-brown owl.”

I tossed my brunette mane, choosing to ignore his comment. “I was just surprised. Can you get them to come to the surface?”

“Sure,” He shrugged. “They’re a lot friendlier with ponies than ocean dolphins. Just do what I did.”

Cautiously, I dipped one hoof in the water and traced a slow circle. Almost immediately, a nose poked up beneath me, and a curious eye met mine. I smiled. “Hello there,” I whispered, afraid of scaring it away. “I’m Wide Eyes. “

The porpoise clicked in what I took to be a greeting and rolled onto its side. It was bigger than I was, and its hairless hide was smooth and gray. I tentatively stroked it with one hoof. It felt slick and impossibly warm, even in the autumn-cool water. “You don’t have a Cutie Mark either, huh?” I murmured. “Lucky you, not having to worry about it. I wish I were a porpoise.”

His only answer was a high-pitched series of rapid clicks and squeaks. I sighed. “I wish I at least had a porpoise- I mean, purpose.”

The friendly water creature gave me no answer, so I rubbed his belly until he grew tired of the amusement and dove back into his watery home. Low Tide’s porpoise, which he had enticed back to the surface, followed, but not without a spray of water from its blowhole that soaked my unfortunate cousin from nose to dock.

I guffawed at the sight of a furious Low Tide, flapping his way to the shore on soggy wings. “I think that means it likes you!”

His only reply was a string of invectives thrown over his shoulder.

03- Self-Reflection and Self-Esteem

Disclaimer: CC Cover art and all written material within is intellectual property of user Persianjuliet, and may not be used without consent of the author.

My Little Pony and all related characters are property of Hasbro and Lauren Faust.

Song: The Day I Turned To Glass by Honeycut

We camped on the shore that night. I set up the tent with Low’s assistance- It had only taken him minutes to start a passable fire, and then he turned his attention to my pitiful attempt at pitching the canvas mess that was meant to be a tent. By that time he was mostly dry, and his temper was back to normal. He grabbed a falling pole with his blue-tinged magic, chuckling. “I guess you won’t be getting a Cutie Mark for camping, then.”

With a flash of amber magic, I snatched the pole back and adjusted it huffily. “If it was that easy to find out, I wouldn’t be going to Canterlot.”

Seeing me upset, he wasn’t apologetic as I expected. When reminded of my “problem”, everypony usually changed the subject or awkwardly tried to make me feel better. Low, however, just rolled his eyes and moved the pole to its proper position. “Oh, lighten up. A tent-pitching Cutie Mark would be pretty pathetic, so it’s just as well that you’re rubbish at it.”

He noted my venomous glare, remarking “Auntie should have called you Evil Eyes. Your face will get stuck like that, don’t you know?”

My lips pressed into a tight, angry line, I whirled and stalked away. Low called after me, but I was fuming. I stalked stiff-legged into the trees, away from the lazy river and the glow of the gibbous moon now rising over it.

The sparse pine forest was young and thin, unlike the crowded old growth of my home. I felt a longing for the towering giants, the comforting bearded evergreens that loomed like wise old giants. Here I was walking on crackling yellow grass, not loam and pine needles. It was startling, the difference between the short distance we had traversed. I wondered with trepidation how strange to land around the capitol must be. Was it a cactus-filled desert, or a vine-filled jungle? It must be exotic and strange.

My eyes filled with tears at the thought, and I swiped at them angrily with a hoof. Who in the world gets homesick for trees? I demanded of myself. I should be missing my family and- well. My family, at least.

But at the thought of my family, I felt nothing but weary, half-hearted affection and a growing indifference. My family had never paid much attention to me, and I could return no more affection than they gave me. My father, Top Notch, and my mother, Silver Platter, were good folks, but they were preoccupied with the restaurant. I was always a distraction, never a daughter. Just as with my classmates, I was pushed to the back of their minds and never spared a second thought. Yet I might have believed that to be their fault, and not mine, but they treated my brothers as shining prodigies. They were twins- Well Read and Well Fed. Read liked math and business, while Fed delighted in cuisine. My parents intended for them to take over the family business, leaving no thought and no place for me. It rankled constantly, and was a sore spot that I did not like to be reminded of.

No, I didn’t miss my family in the least. I was ashamed to find no deep feelings of loyalty and love in my heart, only bitterness and regret. I didn’t want to go home- but the idea of Canterlot scared me. I felt as if the whole world was trying to squeeze me out of existence. I was an anomaly, a nopony that shouldn’t be alive.

With a flutter of my yellow-feathered wings, I rose to the top of the nearest tree. Perched on the swaying branches, I raised my eyes to the soft, forgiving light of the moon. It swam like a reflection in a pond, and I realized the whole world was blurred and indistinct through my tears. They softened the sharp line of trees, and turned the river into a blanket of reflected starlight. I let the tears fall freely then, and by the time I heard soft wingbeats approach and felt a warm, heavy body settle next to mine, I was too far gone to care.

Low Tide was silent for a long time. It was cold, and occasionally a breeze would cut through the treetops, but he didn’t move. Finally, when the tears were drying to a salty sheen on my cheeks, he spoke. “I know you don’t have friends in Branbury, and I know our family has been pretty terrible to you. I’m sorry. I’m especially sorry I haven’t been able to be there for you.”

I looked at him. I felt empty and exhausted, as always happens after a long cry. I felt drained. “Why would you need to be there for me?”

He shrugged, that characteristic “I dunno” shrug of his. “You’re family, silly filly. I don’t want to see you upset, even if I do tease you. You’re my cousin, and besides- you’re always gonna be important to me.”

“Why?”

“Don’t you know? If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have my Cutie Mark. You were there for that, and I’ll always remember it.”

I was silent for a minute before replying. I had never thought of it that way before, but he was right. If it wasn’t for me… I smiled. “I guess there’s one pony whose life would be changed for the worse if I had never been born. Thanks, Low. That means more than you know.”

He ruffled my head affectionately. A few stray hairs came loose from the careful braid I used to keep my long mane and tail in check. I shoved him playfully, and we both nearly fell out of the tree.

Low Tide leaned back and stared at the sky reflectively. “I wonder if she’s looking at the moon too…” he mused. I placed a comforting hoof over his.

“I bet she is. And thinking about you, too.”

He smiled gratefully. “All right, kid. Enough sad-sack nonsense. I’ve got dinner ready, and it’s freezing up here.”

My stomach growled loudly as I thought of food. “What’s for dinner?”

“Porpoise eyeballs and pine needles.” He replied promptly. I shoved him off his branch, but he snapped out his wings and glided to the ground. I followed.

“That’s disgusting, you know.” I informed my chuckling cousin.

“Maybe, but it’s nutritious.”

Laughing, we walked side by side back to the camp. I only saw him glance over his shoulder at the shimmering moon once, an inscrutable look in his aquamarine eyes.

After that first night, our progress was speedy and largely uninterrupted. I was unused to constant flight, and the power-flapping wore me out. I complained about this the second night as we set up camp, but Low proved unsympathetic.

“I’m not a goose, I’m an alicorn. Marathons are definitely not my thing.” Perhaps I was whining, but my wings ached as they hadn’t done since my foalhood days of flight training. “Not to mention carrying all of this luggage. How do you possibly expect us to make it there by tomorrow night?”

Low didn’t seem bothered by my complaints. “Oh, you think your wings hurt now? Just wait until the return stretch, with a nice headwind blowing you back. Of course, I’m used to it by now, but I remember the first few times being terrible.”

His tone was practically jovial, and I frowned deeply.

“I see now. You must be part-goose yourself. No pony would be so flip after a full day’s flight.”

He chewed his lip reflectively, thinking hard. His eyes were narrowed as they met mine, but I saw a twinkle in them.

“You’re right. I must be a- HOOONK!”

I jumped, flaring my wings as my cousin let out a startlingly loud noise. He fell to his side laughing and clutching his stomach as I attempted to recover my scattered dignity. “That wasn’t funny.” I snipped, although the sight of him so delighted by his own joke made the corner of my mouth twitch, just a little.

“It was very funny, silly filly.” He corrected. He reclined back on his forelegs, apparently perfectly comfortable on the grass at my feet. I nudged him with one disdainful hoof.

“You’re so foalish.”

He winked. “I never denied it, Wide Eyes.”

I sighed heavily and sat down. “You didn’t even sound like a goose. You sounded more like a duck.”

He was indignant. “I did not! That was a perfectly respectable goose-call.”

I hid my smile behind a hoof. “A sick duck.”

He huffed. “Good enough to get you, anyway.”

We laughed together for a time, and the novel sensation of having somepony to laugh together with felt like a warm blanket, or a comforting fire inside me. I had never thought about how loneliness felt, before now. It had always been a part of me, but I realized that night that loneliness was cold. I had been cold all my life, and the companionship that I had with Low Tide was like the touch of sun on an icebound mountain. I had a taste of friendship, and it threw my entire solitary existence into painfully stark relief. I can still remember the feeling, and the taste of it is bittersweet even now.

04- Friendship and Freshening Up

Disclaimer: CC Cover art and all written material within is intellectual property of user Persianjuliet, and may not be used without consent of the author.

My Little Pony and all related characters are property of Hasbro and Lauren Faust.

Song: Life, Love & Laughter by Donavon Frankenreiter

The next morning, I woke up in a tolerably good mood. It lasted all of ten minutes, until I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the water we used for drinking.

“Good Golden Horn,” I was stunned. “I look like I fell down a cliff covered in thorn bushes.”

Low, who had been taking a long draught from his own bowl, choked with laughter. “You might want to freshen up before we reach the city tonight. We’ll be stopping at Pirouette’s estate, hopefully around sunset. Why don’t you take a few minutes to fix your, ah, everything…”

He ran away laughing as I lifted the bowl with my magic and flung it at him. I wasn’t really angry, having gotten used to his teasing in the two days we had spent together. I just didn’t want to let him think he had pulled anything over on me.

My horn glowed with amber light as I drew the spilled water from the ground and formed it into a flat circle at eye level. It served as a rough mirror, and I began to unbraid my mane and tail. Looking at my reflection, I was glad that nopony was around to see me. My careful braids were coming undone, and tufts and stray hairs protruded at strange angles. My coat was dirty, and bits of mud and pine needles clung to the bright yellow fur. My hooves were especially filthy, and I winced as I examined them. Using a shell-comb from my saddlebags I yanked at the coarse tangles and accumulated knots. After an age of painful work, the brunette locks were once more smooth and slightly curled. Releasing the magic that held the water in place, I trotted to the stream. We had camped by the banks of a tributary, a tiny trickle of water far removed from the powerful length of the Canter. We would follow that stream almost all the way to the capitol, Low had explained, where it veered off at the base of the mountain upon which the city was constructed.

I jumped into the cold water, and was shocked by the sensation. I stood still, shivering, until I grew used to the temperature. Then I quickly went about scrubbing my coat and hooves. My horn glowed, and a lump of soap lifted from a pocket in my bags, surrounded by a matching aura. I set to work, concentrating on my grimy hooves.

I have always hated to be dirty, and was soon sparkling clean. I stepped quickly out of the frigid water, feeling invigorated and completely refreshed. The soap had scrubbed away more than the accumulated grime; it had scrubbed away my weariness. My heart felt lighter, and I smiled cheerfully at Low Tide as I passed him. “You’re not looking too fresh yourself, Tidy. Don’t you want to look nice for Pirouette?”

He took a halfhearted swipe at me, and I danced out of reach, laughing.

“She won’t want to see you if you look like a scruffy tree pony.”

“Then she definitely won’t want to meet you, you scraggle-maned foal.”

We fake-insulted each other for a while more, until we couldn’t take it anymore and burst out laughing. I was comfortable around him now, and this friendly teasing had become part of our relationship. It was nice, having a friend. I remember those few short days fondly, even all these long years later.

“You definitely look better, though. I’m sure you’ll do great in Canterlot.”

I shrugged and gave him an awkward half-smile. “I hope so. I just don’t want it to be a repeat of Branbury.”

He smiled confidently. “It won’t be. You didn’t grow up with these ponies; it’ll be a totally fresh start. Besides,” he added with a toss of his silver mane. “I’ll be there. You have nothing to worry about.”

I nudged him. “Except the size of your ego.”

He affected a disinterested air. “It’s all part of what makes me great. You can’t pick and choose, it’s a package deal.”

I rolled my eyes. “I feel sorry for Pirouette.”

We bantered like this for a few minutes, but we were packing up and preparing to leave while we did so. Once Low had washed up, we shouldered our saddlebags and took off.

We followed the course of the stream, but it wasn’t necessary by this time. The city-mountain rose before us, looming over the landscape like a- well, like an enormous mountain on a relatively flat plain. The spires of the castle glittered and caught the morning light like spun glass. It was an awe-inspiring sight at first, but after half an hour of having to squint and cover my eyes, protecting them from the reflected glares of light, the novelty of the city was lost on me entirely.

05- City Gates and Hot Dates

Disclaimer: CC Cover art and all written material within is intellectual property of user Persianjuliet, and may not be used without consent of the author.

My Little Pony and all related characters are property of Hasbro and Lauren Faust.

Song: Excuse My French by 2be3

We reached Canterlot just as the sun was beginning to set. In the mountain’s shadow, however, night had already fallen. We touched down at the city gates, and Low stepped forward to address the guards. I hung back, curious but intimidated by the daunting stallions that remained motionless on either side of the post. A third emerged from inside the guardhouse, carrying a clipboard instead of a spear.

The guards wore matching armor- simple metal plates hung across their bellies, backs, necks, and shoulders, covered partially with thick cloth in the Royal Colors- deep purple, gold, and black . They wore unadorned round helmets whose only decoration was the Royal Crest- a purple alicorn with a gold thread silhouette, rampant on a field of golden stars that stood out beautifully against a black background.

Their stalwart, uniform appearance was unlike anything I had experienced before. In Branbury, there were no guards, or anything approaching a military unit. There was old Moss Hoof, a retired guard from Canterlot, but his armor lay rusting in a corner of his house, and his bearing was easygoing, if gruff. He was nothing like these well-trained stallions.

It was daunting, to say the least, and I realized then just how unprepared I was for the city. If I was cowed at the very gates, what would the city proper, let alone the castle be like for a young, provincial pony like me? Low Tide had gotten lost on his first venture into the city, but he had ended up finding love. I wasn’t so sure that my luck was that good.

I watched Low conduct his business with the guard. The soldier was older, with streaks of gray in his nondescript brown mane and tail. His blue eyes showed no emotion as Low flashed an easy grin and chatted away.

“Is Hot Streak on duty? I remember promising him a poker game last time around.”

The older pony cocked an eyebrow. “Private Streak is confined to the barracks at the moment. Something about carousing, I believe.”

Low took this in stride, chuckling fondly. “That sounds exactly like him. That smooth-tongued devil would have been more suited to fleecing tourists with shady street games than to guard work.”

The guardpony cracked a small smile, and, to my astonishment, his whole visage changed. He winked at my irrepressible cousin. “I seem to remember you saying that in front of his fiancé last time you were in the city. How long did it take for that bruise to heal, by the way?”

Low groaned theatrically, rubbing his cheek. “Don’t remind me! For a soft-looking mare, she packs quite a wallop.”

The two stallions laughed, and the spear-wielding door guards snickered. I peeked out from behind Low, now more curious than afraid. How in the world had he put them at ease so quickly?

Standing quite close to me was a young guard whom I hadn’t been paying attention to. When a pony stands motionless and is so much a part of the scenery, your eyes begin to slide over them as they would a door or a decorative vase- albeit a vase that could throw you in prison, if it so chose.

The guard nodded at me. “Hey, filly. I haven’t seen you here before. Low always comes alone. You his little sister?”

His smile was warm, his eyes friendly. I smiled back at him, looking past the armor. As I did so, I realized how handsome this particular guard was. His coat was an unusual shade of pale green, complimented by a sand-colored mane and tail. His eyes, peering cheerfully at me from beneath his helmet, were the same shade of yellow-brown as his mane.

A blush heated my cheeks as I met his inquiring eyes. There weren’t many handsome and available colts my age back in Branbury. “No, I’m his cousin. Um… my name’s Wide Eyes.”

His own eyes seemed to sparkle as he shook my hoof. “Nice to meet you, Miss Wide Eyes. I’m Updraft. This your first time in Canterlot?”

My blush grew even worse. I could hardly meet his eyes. “I- is it obvious?”

He patted my shoulder comfortingly. “Hey, no worries. I’m from Cloudy Meadows myself.”

“Cloudy Meadows? But isn’t that a pegasus village?” I was intrigued, and a little of my bashfulness fell away.

“Yeah, mostly. But there are some alicorn families there. It’s a small community, so everypony gets along. Say, what are you-”

I was just feeling at ease with this handsome new friend of mine when a sharp bark from the right made us both jump. “Private Updraft! ‘At attention’ doesn’t mean ‘flirt with pretty mares’, you feather-headed greenhorn!”

The older stallion was glaring balefully at us. The door guards smirked, in a better-you-than-me sort of way. Low Tide, the oh-so-protective cousin, snorted with laughter at the expression on my now entirely red face. Updraft had snapped back to attention, but I heard him mutter out of the side of his mouth. “Meet me tonight?”

I had no time to respond before the narrow-eyed stallion advanced on him. “What was that, Private?”

Updraft stared straight ahead as he answered crisply and correctly. “Nothing, sir! I am at attention and will remain so until I get off duty at precisely seven o’ clock tonight, sir!”

Low Tide rolled his eyes knowingly. The clipboard-wielding guard pony, so angry only seconds ago, sighed, shook his head fondly, and turned back to my cousin. “I remember being that young and moronic. Those were the days, eh?”

Low shrugged. “I don’t know, Sarge. I wasn’t alive before ponies discovered fire.”

He dodged a cuff from the older pony, laughing. The pair ambled through the gates, still talking. Apparently we had been approved for entry into Canterlot. I hadn’t realized that the security was so relaxed, but on the other hoof, my cousin seemed on friendly terms with just about everypony, and apparently that extended to me as well.

Before I followed them, I turned to Updraft. He leaned toward me to whisper, and my heart fluttered idiotically. “Meet me inside this gate at seven. I’ll show you around town, okay?”

I could only nod dumbly. Low called for my over his shoulder, and I mumbled something resembling a goodbye before cantering away.

06- City Folks and Silly Jokes

06- City Folks and Silly Jokes

Disclaimer: CC Cover art and all written material within is intellectual property of user Persianjuliet, and may not be used without consent of the author.

My Little Pony and all related characters are property of Hasbro and Lauren Faust.

Song: Cousins by Vampire Weekend

“Sweet Golden Horn’s... hooves, will you shut up already?”

Low Tide snapped at me, having finally reached the end of his tether. Still giddy, I affected a haughty air and lifted my nose skyward. “Harrumph. You’re just jealous because I didn’t have to knock anypony off the sidewalk to get a date.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s it. I’m so jealous right now. You got me.”

I shrugged, too excited to take offense at his mockery. I had a date and I was in Canterlot at last! The fear that had been building up for so long had almost entirely dissipated- although I was careful to keep my wings folded against my sides, just in case somepony should spot my lack of a Cutie Mark.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Updraft. He had been so charming and confident. Meet me at eight- just like that! He was handsome too, with that unusual light green coat. I smiled to think of how he had flirted.

“So have you met Updraft before? What’s he like?” I interrogated my exasperated relative. He let out a heavy, dramatic sigh, but acquiesced.

“I met him last time I was here. He’s pretty new, so I don’t know much about him. He could be the Easter Phoenix, for all I know. Just flying about, delivering eggs and coals.”

I glanced apprehensively at him. “So… It’s okay if I meet him later?”

Low laughed, ruffling my head with one hoof. “You’re not a filly anymore. Date whoever you want.” He winked clandestinely. “I won’t tell Aunt Silver if you won’t. You deserve to get out and have fun. Meet some new ponies. Get in trouble and break some laws. Get arrested and spend a few days in jail. Get a plot tattoo and-”

“Okay. I get it. All you had to do was say yes.” I shook my head at his nonsense, but secretly I was delighted by his answer. “So we’ll meet Pirouette, get set up at her house, and then I’ll go meet Updraft?”

Low nodded. “You should get a dress first, if you’re still worried about anypony noticing your Cutie Mark… problem.”

I agreed, my mood darkening slightly as I was reminded of our reason for being in Canterlot in the first place. We walked on in silence for a while, and I turned my attention to our surroundings.

The city was breathtaking. Crystalline spires rose from the castle above, casting heavy shadows over the smaller and less impressing buildings. That didn’t matter, though, since Canterlot was ablaze with artificial daylight. Candles and torches filled the widows of every shop and restaurant, and many were lit with magical strips of light that hung in the air, pulsing and undulating slightly. The capitol glowed from within, and in the illumination, I was able to take in all the new sights.

My senses were overloaded by the wealth of information streaming in. The air was full of the talk and laughter of busy ponies. A customer haggling with a shop owner, a foal begging its parents for sweets, a group of chattering teens clustered on a corner- it was incredible. The various smells in the air mingled and strengthened in the still air, becoming powerful and almost overwhelming. Smoke, perfume, sweat, dirt, and every imaginable type of food swirled into an odorous cloud that I will always associate with Canterlot.

The rough cobblestones felt strange under my hooves. I was used to dirt roads, rocky beaches, even clouds- but the clacking noise of hundreds of hooves all sounding at once is a bit overwhelming. Looking around, I saw that many of the passers-by were shod with tough-looking cloth hoofwear. Observing, I realized that this worked to muffle the obnoxious clacking noise. I smiled. What a clever invention. This is the kind of small idea that can make a pony rich.

Low Tide led us on a meandering path through the upper district. We passed all kinds of ponies- from incredibly high-class aristocrats and merchants, and one mare that I’m still convinced was a Duchess, to homeless ponies begging on the streets, dressed in rags and huddling in groups for safety. The sight made me feel uncomfortable, and vaguely guilty in a strange, abstract way. I hadn’t realized that there could be ponies suffering so much in a city so rich. Or rather, I had known it, but I had never wanted to think about it. We moved further uptown, and the streets grew cleaner as the homeless population decreased.

My mood quickly improved as Low began pointing out various landmarks and stores. He had an endless supply of scandalous stories, and I was choking with laughter as he gestured to a particular café. “That innocent looking coffee shop right there? According to Pirouette-” (many of his stories began like this.) “the owners are new money, rich on coffee exports, but apparently they’ve been running from a sordid past. One of them used to be an exotic dancer in a bar!”

“Really?” I was fascinated. No one ever told me these kinds of stories back home. “Was he her customer when they got married?”

Low Tide laughed. “No, it was the other way around. He was the exotic dancer, not her!”

I burst out laughing, startling a pair of upper-crust ponies. They hurried past, shooting us suspicious looks. I poked Low in the ribs, whispering “I bet you made most of these stories up!”

He gave me his “affronted” face. “It’s all true! Ask Pirouette; these city ponies are bananas.”

I eyed him suspiciously. “I think I will ask her.”

“Fine. Do it.”

“I will.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

We walked in silence for half a moment longer, until neither of us could hold it in. I snickered, and Low made a ridiculous face. The gentry around us were disapproving, and the crowd parted easily around us. Low leaned in close to me, murmuring so only I could hear.

“Hey, Wide Eyes. I just realized something.”

“What?”

“We’re naked.”

I let out an entirely unladylike laugh. Low Tide could be pretty funny sometimes. It almost made up for how annoying he was the rest of the time. I told him this, and received his gratitude in the form of a shove that sent me teetering on the brink of the curb. Some gratitude.

07- Bubble Baths and Master Makeovers

Disclaimer: CC Cover art and all written material within is intellectual property of user Persianjuliet, and may not be used without consent of the author.

My Little Pony and all related characters are property of Hasbro and Lauren Faust.

Song: Born To Be A Dancer by Kaiser Chiefs

“Waves on the water, smooth and slow. Follow me, follow me, pretty little filly. Follow me, follow me, over the sea. Naaa na na na, follow me.
I can’t be away from you, stormy out at sea. Follow me, follow me, loyal little mare. Follow me, follow me, if you dare. Naaa na naaa, follow me. Love me, love me, follow me.”

I sang quietly to myself, recalling the words of an old sea-pony’s song that I had learned from my father when I was a foal. It was about a sailor named Kelp Caller who fell in love with a mare who didn’t return his affections. Kelp Caller then lost his wings in a terrible accident. Determined to prove himself to his doubting love, Salty Mane, he builds a boat and sails away to make his fortune. Salty Mane, realizing her real devotion to him, follows him on his journey. The two are never heard from again, but it is said that they found a new home on the other side of the ocean, and lived happily ever after.

I used to love that song, and my mother would sing it to me when I was sick. It was the first glimmer of romance in my young life, and my secret hunger for sappy love stories and tales of true love grew from that one spark.
The huge bathroom, tiled in white and gray marble, reverberated and sent echoes of my voice bouncing from wall to wall as I sang. I splashed around a little, swishing my unbraided tail through the water.

The master bathroom was massive. I sat in a bathtub that could have comfortably accommodated four or five other ponies, with clawed feet and a complicated-looking array of copper pipes. The counter was made of the same gray and white marble as the tiles, and a mirror that covered one entire wall was expertly lit by a plethora of lamps. A thick, plush rug decorated the floor, making for a luxurious bath-mat.

I reclined against the edge of the tub, my face almost completely submerged. My horn glowed amber-yellow as I reached magically for one of the countless brightly-colored bottles lining the sides of the tub. This bottle was sky blue, and half-full of a creamy-looking light blue liquid. There was no label to be seen on the bottle.

Carefully, I unscrewed the cap and gave it a cautious sniff. It smelled like lavender. The bottle tilted as I poured a dab of it on my hoof. It felt good on my skin as I massaged it over my forelegs. Replacing the bottle, I took up a comb from where I had set it and continued untangling my mane. I had released it from its usual braid, and it hung in wet, unruly straggles across my neck. I gritted my teeth as the comb caught a particularly vicious snarl, tugging at it until the hair straightened and lay smooth.

I released the comb from the grip of my magic, setting it back on the counter with a click that sent echoes through the acoustically deafening room. A second, unexpected sound made me jump- a knock at the dark-stained wood of the bathroom door. Water sloshed over the side of the tub, and I winced guiltily. As I mopped at the puddle with a towel held in my magical field, I answered the source of the sound before they could knock again.

“I’m almost finished; just give me a minute to dry off.”

“No need! I’ve got a quicker way.” The handle turned and Pirouette pranced inside before I could protest.

Vibrant pink magic glowed as Pirouette set to work. I hastily clambered out of the tub to be received by a think, fluffy towel that quickly set to rubbing me dry. I sputtered as it briskly dried my face, trying to see what Pirouette was up to. Her magic lit the room as she set to a series of tasks with mind-boggling speed. She pulled the plug to drain the bathwater, righted a bottle I had knocked over in climbing out of the tub, mopped up the water from the pristine tiles, grabbed a selection of brushes, combs, and bottles from a cupboard, and finally released me from the grip of her magically animated towel.

I stood on the bath mat, looking ridiculous. My coat stood up in tufts and clumps, all pointing the wrong way, and my mane was frizzy and ruffled from her rubbing of the towel.

“How am I going to get ready?” I asked the mirror and Pirouette. “I only have a little over an hour.”

The delicate pick alicorn beamed. “I’ll get you looking date-worthy in five minutes. Flat.”

I looked at her askance. “Really? How?”

“Just hold still.”

I walked out of the bathroom six minutes later looking like a whole new mare. My coat was smooth and shiny, my mane and tail were tamed in a complex braid, and I smelled like citrus and jasmine. It wasn’t that I didn’t care about how I looked- I usually spent a fair amount of time on my appearance, not wanting to give my peers anything else to look down on me for- but I never had quite the resources or skill to take primping to this level.

I had to admit to myself, Pirouette was a mare of her word. In a tornado of beautification, I was transformed. I questioned her about it as we walked downstairs.

“How did you do that so fast? I thought your special talent related to dancing,” I pointed at her Cutie Mark, “not makeovers.”

The graceful alicorn tossed her head, smiling. She glanced at her Cutie Mark fondly- a pair of ballet slippers- before answering. “It does. But when you dance professionally, you get used to rapid costume changes between numbers. You need to be an expert at looking perfect, quickly.”

I nodded, satisfied with her answer. Low Tide waited at the bottom of the stairs. He had been talking to Common Ground, but they fell silent when they saw us. Guy talk, I thought to myself. Stallions are all alike.

Pirouette preempted any remark we might have made by twirling into a quick kiss with Low, then twirling away towards the wide front doors. “Hi Tidey! Bye Tidey! I’ll be back as soon as I can, but first we’ve just got to get this dress.”

Low shrugged, accepting his marefriend’s eccentricities. He gave me a wry look and a grin as we swept past him. Dragged helplessly in the ballerina’s wake, I followed her out the double doors and into the well-lit street. I looked over my shoulder in time to see Common Ground shutting the door behind us. I caught a glimpse of his face; enough to see his professional composure marred by a tiny, fatherly smile.

08- Tailors and Tunics

08- Tailors and Tunics

Disclaimer: CC Cover art and all written material within is intellectual property of user Persianjuliet, and may not be used without consent of the author.

My Little Pony and all related characters are property of Hasbro and Lauren Faust.

Song: Popular by Kristen Chenoweth (from Wicked)

Wide Eyes' New Tunic

“Vivy’s place” was only a block away from Pirouette’s extravagant house, and turned out to be a small clothier’s with a modest and unassuming brick storefront. It gave one a pleasant, charming impression, with the weathered bricks, tangled ivy growing in tendrils up the walls, and curly black metalwork decorating the small bench out front. The curling letters on the small sign over the door read “Vivacity”, and nothing else. The enigmatic sign fired up my curiosity, and I followed willingly as Pirouette led us inside.

Only one light was on, dimly lighting the small shop’s interior. Rows of neatly folded garment rose from floor to ceiling on every wall, and the floor space was cluttered with well-dressed ponnequins. I had to squeeze in awkwardly behind Pirouette as she moved, sure-hoofed, to the back of the shop.

“Hellooo, Vivy!” She called cheerfully. A door opened in the back, and out trotted the smallest mare I had ever seen.

She was mint-green, with a thick, shaggy yellow mane-and-tail-style. She wore a tailor’s vest, stitched to accommodate as many pockets as it possibly could. The pockets overflowed with pincushions, magically blunted needles, measuring tape, and spools of half-unwound thread that hung loosely about her legs and tangled together in a colorful mess. She was middle-aged, but the only lines on her face were laugh lines. I liked her immediately, but she was tiny, as big as- if not smaller than- most short-lived ponies. She beamed at me and hugged Pirouette. The pink mare looked like a swan next to the little sparrow of a tailor. I felt like a turkey.

Pirouette introduced us. “Vivy, this is Low’s cousin Wide Eyes. Wide Eyes, this is Vivacity. She’s the best tailor in Canterlot, I promise you won’t be disappointed. I don’t buy from anypony but her!”

I shook hooves with the diminutive seamstress, smiling. She had an air of competent cheer. Before I could say anything except “Hi”, she was circling me. She examined me from nose to tail, peering closely.

When she spotted my flank, she shot Pirouette an inquisitive glance. The mare shook her head almost imperceptibly, and Vivacity shrugged and went back to looking at me. I fidgeted nervously. Finally, she moved back in front of me, looking up at me with a look of triumph.

“Well, I think I’ve got the perfect thing for you, miss.” Vivacity’s voice was strangely accented, the tones from somewhere I couldn’t place. She noticed that I had noticed, and patted my hoof. “I’m from Shetland, dearie. Fairly far from Canterlot, by all accounts.”

I grinned sheepishly, embarrassed that she had been able to guess what I was thinking so well. The miniature pony moved away, bustling across the crowded shop. She returned immediately, carrying a folded garment inside a field of minty green magic. Unfolding it, she held it up to the light so I could see.

Displayed in the grip of her magic was a red and burnt-orange short tunic. It was embroidered with a pattern of leaves, and the scalloped hems were a tasteful light brown. “The fabric is a light cotton blend, and the sleeves and edging are faux silk,” explained Vivacity. “It’s much cheaper and easier to manufacture silk with magic than to harvest it from silkworms. We do the same with faux leather- as if anypony would ever wear real leather! Ugh. Anyway, what do you think?”

I loved it, and said as much. She ordered me to raise my forelegs and fold my wings, and before I knew it, I was standing in front of a full-length mirror and smiling ear to ear. The muted autumn colors complimented my coat and mane perfectly, and the style was fashionable, yet not too dressy or flashy for a casual date.

“Wonderful!” cheered Pirouette. “I knew you could do it, Vivy.”

The tailor waved the compliment away casually. “Special price for a good customer. Six bits, twelve pence.”

I gaped at the figure she named. I could have bought a whole new outfit for that much! I started to protest to Pirouette that she really didn’t have to pay for it, but she brushed aside my concerns with an airy wave of her hoof.

I felt uncomfortable, letting Pirouette pay for my tunic. I frowned as she hoofed over the bits to a smiling Vivy, and I was still frowning when we left the shop. My family wasn’t poor- not by a long shot- but we definitely weren’t rich. I rarely, if ever, splurged on anything. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, though- I longed to walk out of a high end shop, weighed down with bags and bags of merchandise- but that longing only made me feel guilty about allowing Pirouette to buy me the overpriced (in my eyes, at least) garment.

“Pirouette, I love the tunic. But you really didn’t have to, you know…”

My cousin’s fillyfriend fixed me with a stern look. “See here, Wide Eyes. You’re my coltfriend’s little cousin, which makes you almost family, in my eyes. I don’t let my friends or family down, and ‘m not going to let you go on a date- your first date- without the suitable attire. Got it?”

I nodded dumbly; how could I argue? I still didn’t feel good about the situation, but I knew now that there was nothing I could say or do to change the stubborn mare’s mind. I smiled a little as a thought occurred to me. Well, at least I know that she’s a good match for Low Tide. They suit each other.

We walked back to her house. Common Ground and Low Tide were waiting for us by the door, and both stallions expressed admiration at the new tunic when I slipped it on. I pulled my wings through the slits in the back and twisted my head to admire how the fabric settled.

“The colors really suit you,” Low complimented me as I twirled. “You’re yellow and brown, so the autumn stuff really looks nice.”

I smiled at him, completing my turn. Pirouette chimed in brightly. “Yeah! I could never wear something like that; it would look awful on a pink coat.”

Low chuckled. “I can’t imagine anything looking awful on you.”

The ballerina blushed and waved her hoof at him. “Oh, you.”

I rolled my eyes at Common Ground and pretended to gag. “Oh, yuck.”

I was only teasing, however. I liked the pretty dancer, and I thought they made an adorable pair. They noted my fake distress and decided to tease me further. Low fluttered his eyelashes at Pirouette like a maiden. “Darling dearest, what say we adjourn for now? Let me take you to the boudoir and shower you with kisses.”

Pirouette fake-swooned. “You rugged stallion, you! However did I live without you?”

“It’s a mystery to everypony.” Common Ground deadpanned. I laughed, taken aback by the stallionservant’s unexpected wit. Pirouette grinned and flung a foreleg across the straight-faced butler’s shoulders.

“Oh, that’s right. I harried Common Ground mercilessly from dawn ‘til dusk.”

“Everypony needs a hobby.” offered Low with a grin.

“And may I say that I am over the moon now that Miss Pirouette has found a new one.” parried Common without hesitation.

The three of us laughed, and even the bass-voiced stallionservant cracked a tiny smile.

Common Ground was always faithful to Pirouette, up to the day he died. He was of shorter-lived stock than his mistress, barely passing the lifespan of an earth pony, but even when he officially retired and passed the station on to his children (a mare and a stallion, both of whom took after him in their serious manner and devotion to Pirouette), he could always be found pottering about the kitchens or the garden, doing odd jobs and supervising “his” household. He was a kind-hearted soul, despite his formal ways, and Low found a great friend and ally in him in the years to come. He became like a second father to my cousin, and I only regret that I never knew him better.

The laughter died in my throat when I looked at the clock. My ears went back in panic, and I silenced the others with a shout. “Oh my gosh, you guys! I only have fifteen minutes!”

The mood of the group shifted instantly. Pirouette bore down on me, making tiny adjustments to my mane-and-tail ‘do, fixing my tunic, and generally fussing over me. Common faded away without our noticing (he was an expert at that), and Low ushered me to the door.

“I’ll show you back to the gates.” My cousin offered kindly.

“We’ll be waiting up to hear aaaaaall about it!” added Pirouette.

I waved to the dancer as Low and I took off. We soared until we reached the second traffic layer, where alicorns flew just over the tops of buildings. Following traffic etiquette, we slowed to a galloping pace to match the movements of the other flyers.

It wasn’t crowded, but I had never flown in city traffic before. Nervous, I stuck so close to Low that our wings kept brushing. He shot me an annoyed glance, and I moved away.

There were several layers of flight traffic over the city. The slowest level, and the most-used, was the one we were currently occupying. There were faster lanes above, and above those was a free-flying zone. It was convenient for ponies to take to the air, rather than add to congestion on the street, but at the same time it required some form of organizations to keep ponies from collisions or “traffic jams”.

We moved through the air, our wingbeats falling into a steady rhythm. The gates weren’t far from Pirouette’s estate, and we reached them with minutes to spare. I was drawing looks from more ponies than usual, but it was a pleasant feeling to be looked at for something besides my Cutie Mark problem. I smiled and ruffled my wings a little as we lit down on the roughly cobbled sidewalk.

Low Tide gave me an affectionate hug. “See ya later, Wide Eyes. I hope everything goes okay, but if it doesn’t, just laugh it off. It’s no big deal in the long run.”

I returned the smile. “Thanks, Low.”

He was about to take off once more when something occurred to him. “Hey, you remember the way back to Pirouette’s place, right?”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course. I’m not totally helpless. Go on back to your fillyfriend, I’ll be fine.”

My words were confident, and Low winked and flew away. I watched him disappear into the rolling waves of airborne travelers with a smile on my face, but I wasn’t nearly as confident as I pretended to be. I felt dizzy with anxiety, and a little sick to my stomach. My nerves were so tightly wound that when somepony tapped me on the shoulder, I nearly jumped out of my new tunic.

“Hey, Wide Eyes? Wow, you look great.”

I turned and found myself staring into a pair of brilliant yellow-brown eyes. “Updraft! Hi…”