Twilight Sparkle and the Stupid Original Pony

Rarity brought Twilight back to the throne room a bit after Pinkie left. In the mean time I had found a supply cupboard containing mop and bucket and cleaned damp patches on the floor, lest anypony might slip. Doing it myself was probably better than waiting for the castle staff to return and do it for me; I’d rather not have to explain the nature of the various puddles I was asking them to clean.

“I must toodle off, dears, and check on the little one. But I do hope you will call on me at home whenever you can.”

I stood on the drawbridge with Twilight and waved as Rarity left.

“Little one?” I asked when Rarity was out of hearing, “who’s the sire?”

“Would you care to guess?” There was excitement in her question.

“Spike?” I asked eagerly.

“Yes! Yes! Yes! My adoptive son is all grown up! My grandson, Spike Jr., is the most adorable half pony half dragon mutant hybrid you’ll ever see.”

“How’d he manage that? Wasn’t he a lot younger than Rarity?”

“It was about two years ago, Spike was visiting the carousel again when Rarity got to the point where she just couldn’t keep her hooves off him, so she sent him away and next thing we know, well, you know what? You should ask them. Theirs was a complicated courtship and you should probably get the tale directly. I’m not sure if I should comment.”

“Architectural oopsies aside, I hope you enjoyed that?”

“Rather!” she said, though her happy glow was answer enough. “Apparently most unicorn fillies grow up wondering if they will have a magical accident their first time. I was just too much of a dork to notice my peers fretting about it. There are even urban myths about fatalities. Rarity tells me that Rudey Flume’s juvenile sex angst novel First Love and a Funeral was inspired by a real life near miss. Uh, I don’t read that tripe – I won’t even have it in the library unless it’s in the fireplace. Anyway, the thought never occurred to me. But it shouldn’t happen again.”

“I think we should test your newfound magical restraint as soon as equinely possible. For science! Or safety. Or something.”

“Or because we like it?”

“Yeah, that!”

“I totally agree. It felt so good, so right, us finally both being ponies. But let’s swing by Sweet Apple Hectares before we try it again. You’ve met the rest of my posse, I should show you off to Applejack too.”

“Show me off? I dunno much about that, but I’m plumb looking forward to meeting her.”

—

The Apple family farm was a bit run down, but comfortably so, and the Apple family themselves were all good ponies. Granny Smith had passed on a few years back; now Applejack was running the operation. Big Mac and his wife Dawn Apples, née Pear, made a charming, if quiet, duo; no foals yet but ‘when the time was right’ they hoped to start a family.

The first hint that anything was wrong came when I asked about zap-apple jam.

“Ain’t none left and nopony knows how to make it. Heaven knows I get zapped enough every year trying to figure it out.”

“Ey-yup,” agreed Mac.

“Didn’t your grandmare pass the secret on?”

“Only to mah sister. And she done runned off.”

“Ran—” Instantly the room seemed to grow chilly. “Uhhhh, big weather we’re having?”

“Ahm sorry, you wouldn’t’ve know’d. I’ve heard tell that she’s still alive, but no idea where she is. Can we talk about sum’t else? It’s a sore topic.”

I apologized, but Twilight and I didn’t linger much after that. We headed towards Ponyville instead of directly to the castle.

—

“Look! It’s the famous Sugarcube Corner. Can we go in? Can we go in? Can we go in?”

Twilight laughed tolerantly at my excitement. “I don’t normally approve of treats before dinner, but since its your first day in Equestria.”

Inside, we, but mostly I, admired a vast array of sweets in the glass cases before taking seats at the counter.

Pinkie approached and Twilight said, “Pinkie, we’d like to look at a menu—”

“Denied,” Pinkie interrupted crisply.

“Excuse me?”

Twilight was somewhere between baffled and put out.

“M’sieur Tangent ‘as already placed ze special order.” Pinkie turned on the spot and flounced back into the kitchen.

“A special order?” Twilight raised an eyebrow.

“I asked her to make something special for us based on her expert recommendation.”

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”

I grinned with mischief. “I think I know exactly how dangerous that is!”

There was a rumble from the kitchen– Mr. Cake was beating the bottom of an immense pan as if it were a drum. The tempo increased and Mrs. Cake joined, crashing two pan lids together like cymbals. As Pinkie emerged carrying a covered platter, the percussive fanfare ended. Mr. Cake wheeled out a cart bearing a flaming brazier.

Pinkie set the platter before us and in a choreographed movement, Mrs Cake whisked the dome off as Pinkie drew a red hot scimitar from the centre of the fire. With a flourish she used the glowing blade to split the almost black chocolate sphere revealed under the dome. The two halves rolled apart, cut surfaces sizzling from the fiery blade.

All three turned and marched back to the kitchen. Pinkie paused in the doorway.

“Indulge…” she said, her voice heavy with mystery.

The dessert was dark and rich. Chocolate mocha mousse filled a hard shell of bitter chocolate; there was a hint of fruitiness I couldn't identify for sure, maybe raspberry, maybe not. The cut surfaces were caramelized from the red hot blade. Mixed with the chocolate and berryish flavours there was an unidentified herbal note.

I took another bite, closed my eyes to focus on the trace nuances. It was exquisite, but there was certainly more to this desert than just desert.

The light was brighter when I opened my eyes.

“Twilight, my eyes are dilating. What did Pinkie do to us?”

“Arguably,” she said, “nothing that you didn’t give her permission to do, carte blanch.”

Her eyes were half closed but I could see her pupils were grown large. What I wasn’t completely sure of, was whether they were pointing the same direction. I think she was trying to be alarmed, but her mouth was twitching into a grin.

“Maybe I should have asked her to tell me more about her recommendation before agreeing to let her cook it.”

“We should get home. Knowing Pinkie there’s bound to be side effects to the side effects.”

“I call it the Cold Espresso Magic Eight Ball. It’s safe, for certain values of ‘safe’.”

Pinkies were standing behind us – two of her, in fact.

“And I guarantee that there are side effects to the side effects,” said the other Pinkie.

I don’t think the extra Pinkie was a mirror-pond duplicate.

“What’s going to happen?”

“Nothing that probably hasn’t happened already. Just more times in the next fourteen hours than you may be accustomed to.”

The two Pinkies were holding the doors for us – I steered between the two them and hit the wall.

“The first half hour might be a little wacko jacko,” one Pinkie said as the other helped me navigate the doorway, “but after that you’ll be good until dawn!”

“Are you okay?” Twilight asked.

“I think so. Can we lean on each other?”

“I’m closing my eyes,” she said, leaning against me. “Can you remember where we live?”

—

Once the Princess and her fellow were headed down the street Mr. and Mrs. Cake confronted Pinkie.

“Are you sure that was safe? They looked awful wobbly…”

“It’ll be okie dokie, by Loki. I’ve eaten two of those in one sitting and survived.”

Mrs. Cake had some idea what herbs and magic went into the concoction.

“Two? What happened?” she asked, fearing the answer.

“Once I stopped seeing double, I bucked an entire rugby match. Both teams and most of the fans – almost put them all in the hospital.”

“Sweet Celestia, Pinkie! What if they aren’t ready for that stage in their relationship? They must have just met, nobody has ever seen that nice stallion grey around here before.”

“Oh, they’re ready,” Pinkie leered happily, “whether they’re ready to be ready, or not.”

—

We were halfway down Main Street heading towards the castle before I thought to ask, mumbling a bit as I spoke, “Twilight, why am I nibbling your ear in public?”

“I was wondering that too-oo-oo!” she sang, “but I don’t mind at all-all-all.”

Our dizziness was sublimating into something more intense.

“Have I told you lately that I love you?” Twilight asked.

“It’s been at least half a minute! I love you too.”

“And I love you!”

“And I love you!”

“And I love you!”

Before our back and forth infinite recursive loop could get out of control we were at the castle.

“It looks like the staff are back! Watch this,” Twilight said, “I will approach like the ninja, in case they are impostors.”

Twilight’s idea of a ninja sneaking involved holding her legs stiff and moving in awkward fits and starts, bobbing her head as she swooshed from pose to improbable pose like some kind of karate colt. The guards on duty stared straight ahead and tried not to crack up. I walked normally behind as she lurched into her home.

“Hey, pone,” I said as I passed one of the guards.

“Hey,” he said from the side of his mouth.

Apparently being escorted by the Princess was sufficient to get me past the checkpoint – even when my escort was in such exotic form.

“Didja see that?” Twilight asked once we were inside. “Invisible. Hey, hey, uh—” There was a colt in a page’s uniform carrying a box; Twilight waved her hoof, trying to recall his name.

“Uh, Carlos, your Highness,” he said, trying not to spit his gum at her. “What can I—”

He was looking at me with frank curiosity.

“—yeah, Carlos, I will be in my chambers and I am not to be disturbed until noon tomorrow. Have the kitchen send up sandwiches and coffee for two at midnight.”

“Oh no, Princess! I mean, oh yes, Princess. I mean, it will be as you command.”

He bowed to hide his embarrassment.

“Thanks!” Twilight burbled, blithely unaware, and led me onward towards her bedroom. The spell woven by dessert would not wait much longer.

—

“I’ve never seen him around Ponyville,” Carlos told his audience in the servants’ quarters, “he was a dark grey blankflank with—”

A presence loomed behind the young page. He was new to this line of work, but he had the sense to shut his mouth before further incriminating himself.

“One does not simply call the Princess’s associate a blankflank. If you must comment, you need only admit that you didn’t get a look at his mark.”

“Yessir.”

“That’s a good lad,” the older servant said. “I’ll have you civilized yet, even if it kills you.”