We Deserve A Soft Epilogue, My Loveby Apple BottomsChaptersChapter 1 - Who's Argyle?Chapter 2 - Who's Alphabittle?Chapter 3 - FernsChapter 4 - Market DayChapter 5 - The PastChapter 6 - The FutureChapter 1 - Who's Argyle?Please, just open your eyes. It was a wonderful dream - or maybe it wasn’t a dream? Was it a memory? It was warm, and comfortable, but blurry. It had that unreal feeling like a dream, but the more he tried to gain his bearings, the blurrier his surroundings became. He was in a - forest? But then the forest was gone, and he stood in a cloud bank, void of any defining features. There was an orange pony, with a brightly colored mane and tail, but she raced out of his reach before he could catch up to her. You have to be okay. The voice! The orange pony was gone, so he ran towards the last steady thing in the dreamscape, the familiar voice. Yet even as he ran, he wondered why it was familiar. With a violent gasp, he pulled himself out of his dream. The pony who had been leaning close to him jerked backwards and landed hard on the floor. There was a floor now! The room came into abrupt, sharp focus - wait, no, still blurry. He squinted, until he remembered that there should be something on his face. His glasses! “Argyle?” The pony on the sofa stiffened and turned towards the voice. The same voice! “Are you alright?” the voice tried again. “Yes, of course I am.” A beat. “Who are you?” The unicorn stared at him, and although blurry, Argyle did his best to fill in the rest of the features that his ears couldn’t supply. Big, round, gray like the cloudbank of his dream, and just as blurry. He stood up from the floor - tall! Oh dear, would this be a problem? - and he moved with the sort of easy grace that took a lifetime to build. He leaned close to the sofa and Argyle tensed; when he pulled back he had something in his hoof, which Argyle only recognized when he placed it on his nose and the world came back into focus. His glasses! “You don’t know who I am?” the unicorn ventured again, and that’s what he was, a unicorn. The word pinged a sharp note of panic, but it hung loosely in his thoughts with nothing else to connect to and quickly faded. A massive unicorn stallion as broad across as a barn, his coat the color of a storm cloud, and a voice that boomed like thunder. And yet his hoof had been so gentle when it placed his glasses on his nose. When did Argyle get so flowery with his descriptions, anyway? “No, I don’t think so,” Argyle said lightly, doing his best not to offend the large stranger. “Do you know me?” “I would like to,” the stranger said tentatively, and he held his hoof out to shake. “My name is Alphabittle. And you are?” “A pleasure to meet you, Alphabittle. My name is -” Argyle opened his mouth, but nothing came. He closed his mouth, then tried again, opening and closing his mouth a few times, trying to form different letters, hoping one would spark some recognition. Something was wrong. Alphabittle must have seen the growing panic in his expression and came closer, but the motion which was meant to comfort only sent Argyle pressing himself more sharply into the corner of the sofa. Alphabittle retreated, pressing himself into the opposite corner as he watched Argyle unravel. “Why - why don’t I know - that’s - it’s my name, shouldn’t I -” “Do you remember how you came to Bridlewood?” “What’s - what’s Bridlewood?” The name pinged a memory, like the word ‘unicorn’ had, but it couldn’t catch, and spiraled away out of his reach. “The forest? Do you remember a forest?” The forest in his dream! But the memory had already fluttered away. Was the forest real? Was the orange pony real? Was he orange? No, he confirmed quickly with a glance downward, he was a bright shade of blue, with a darker mane and tail. Not as broad as the one across him on the sofa, that’s for sure. Was he in danger? “It’s okay, Argyle. Deep breath.” Argyle! He’d said it before, but now it was like he could really hear it! But when he repeated it back to him, softer, it felt strange in his mouth. “Argyle.” “That’s you.” Argyle sat for a moment, and simply stared at Alphabittle. He was making no aggressive moves, and if anything, he almost looked… sad? Worried, perhaps. Celestia’s Pauldrons, he hoped that he remembered how expressions worked better than he remembered who he was. Argyle might not have been able to remember much, but he could remember that waking up with a big stranger in a strange place with no memory to protect him was a very, very unsafe place to be. And it felt like it ought to be even more dangerous, but Argyle couldn’t quite remember why. “How do you know my name, if you don’t know who I am?” Argyle’s suspicions kicked into overdrive as panic flashed over Alphabittle’s face, which he tried to disguise (badly) with a cough. “Well, you were mumbling in your sleep. Either you’re Argyle, or you know an Argyle.” Alphabittle swallowed. “Do you, uh, know an Argyle?” Argyle shook his head; that’s who he was, wasn’t he? It felt right once he said it a few times, like it slotted into some place in his memory, next to the place that reminded him that he wore glasses. But the rest of it - Bridlewood, a forest, unicorn, an orange blur, Alphabittle - none of it was fitting. He touched his glasses with a hoof, then pulled them off of his face, staring at them as if they might hold some answer for him. “What happened to me?” Chapter 2 - Who's Alphabittle?“We call it the Forgetting Rock,” Alphabittle explained softly, even though they stood alone at the edge of the forest. The forest was called Bridlewood, and even though his memories slid out of his grasp like so many stranded fish after a storm (where did he know fish from?), he tried to hold onto every bit of information Alphabittle was giving him. “Forgetting Rock,” Argyle repeated back to him, and pulled his cloak closer around him as a deep shiver went through him. He didn’t remember it, but looking at it made the pit of his stomach churn. Something bad whispered at the edges of his thoughts, something he couldn’t quite grab onto. “I found you just over there, out cold,” Alphabittle explained, nodding his head towards a small copse of sapling trees on the path between the boulder and the forest. The boulder sat some yards away from a friendly-looking signpost, as benign as any rock could be. “It’s meant to be protective. No pony is supposed to find us here.” “Why?” Alphabittle’s eyes slid to Argyle sidelong, but he hesitated to answer when he saw only confusion in the blue pony’s gaze. What had been guff came out instead softer, more careful. “The unicorns of Bridlewood are very afraid of strangers finding us. There are… bad strangers in the world.” Argyle wasn’t sure why Alphabittle was being so cautious, until it suddenly smacked him in the face. “But I’m a stranger! What if I’m the bad stranger?” Alphabittle’s laughter was so sudden, so booming, that it startled Argyle very nearly off of his hooves. “Sorry. There you go,” and with one mighty foreleg, he lifted Argyle back upright again. “I don’t think you are a bad stranger. I think you are probably just somepony who got lost and happened to wander a little too close to our trap.” “Well, that’s very forgiving of you,” Argyle said a little sharply, not wanting to admit how embarrassed he had been to be knocked over by a laugh. “I also checked you for any dangerous contraband before you woke up,” Alphabittle added, and it was Argyle’s turn to try and hide his reaction with a little cough. “That was a good idea, probably, yes.” Argyle was grateful when Alphabittle’s laugh was much softer the second time, low and rumbly in his chest. “When will my memory come back? When can I go home?” “If you remember where to go,” Alphabittle said with a little step forward, leading him out of the forest, “then you may go now. Whenever you’d like.” Argyle took a confident step forward, then another, and stopped. He stared out at the verdant meadow, the saplings swaying gently in a breeze, the seemingly innocuous boulder that radiated malice from the center of a picturesque scene. He swallowed. He waited for a guiding memory that never came. The pair stood quietly for a moment before Alphabittle broke the silence. “You will stay with me, then. Until you can remember how to get home.” “What if I never remember?” Argyle asked, and his voice was softer than he had meant it to be, barely above a whisper. “Then we will grow old together,” and there was some emotion in his voice that made Argyle turn, but Alphabittle had already turned away to walk back into the forest. “Keep that hood up,” he called over his shoulder, and didn’t bother to slow down so that Argyle had to trot to catch up to him to ask his next question. “Why? You don’t have a hood.” “Because I have a horn,” Alphabittle answered evenly. Argyle smoothed his hoof over his forehead, and gasped sharply when he found nothing there. That was the panic that had zanged though his thoughts, the same feeling he got banging his elbow on a table. He wasn’t a unicorn - but Alphabittle was. All of Bridlewood was. And that was bad … for some reason. Alphabittle was looking at him, and Argyle realized that he had stopped walking. “But I - I don’t -” “If anypony asks,” Alphabittle continued smoothly, “you’re my cousin from a distant branch of my mother’s family tree who came from a far away forest, which was why you didn’t know about the Forgetting Rock. We will find you a substitute horn - soon. For now, let me do the talking.” It wasn’t until later that night, when Argyle was tucked back onto the sofa beneath a thick mound of hoof-made quilts and with a belly full of a delicious dinner, that he fully understood the weight of what was happening. He was an earth pony; another fact that slotted into his memory, next to his name. Not a unicorn, but an earth pony, one who had wandered into a foreign land, and stumbled into a trap intended to keep ponies exactly like him away. Why, he wondered, was Alphabittle so ready to take him under his wing? His final thought before falling asleep was that he may someday remember who he was, but he wasn’t sure he would ever understand Alphabittle. Chapter 3 - Ferns“I don’t like ferns.” Alphabittle chuckled, the rumbly-thunder sound in his chest again. “Yesterday you didn’t know your name, and now you remember that you don’t like ferns?” “I may not know much, but I know a few things, and I distinctly remember,” Argyle said as he waved his fork full of ferns at Alphabittle, “that I do not like these.” “You only took one bite,” Alphabittle countered with a laugh, but obligingly took his plate away. “Here. Let me try something.” While Alphabittle busied himself at the stovetop in the kitchen (as rustic as it was, cooking over a covered wood fire instead of - wait, what was it supposed to have?), Argyle allowed his eyes to rove over the space more intently. Yesterday had been a foggy mess with lost memories, the discovery of his missing horn, of Bridlewood, of unicorns, of a deadly trap in a friendly meadow. He’d barely had the time or capacity to consider his surroundings. It was almost familiar, but he hadn’t expected it to be. Perhaps sleeping there, feeling safe, had given it a measure of familiarity that his empty memories clung to. He was sitting in the small kitchen, filled with good smells and hanging herbs and pots, and in the room beyond was the sofa where he slept. It was a bachelor pad, since it seemed that Alphabittle lived alone, and he saw no photos of family or even friends. There were a few framed photos mostly in the kitchen, and when he looked closely, he could recognize a tiny Alphabittle sitting with two large storm-colored unicorns. Parents, a family; but no children, no wife. That realization made Argyle feel funny, and his memory returned to the fleeting orange figure in his dream. Did he have a wife? The thought didn’t fill him with any comfort. He turned from that disquieting thought and pushed himself away from the sturdily-built table. (It had to be; Alphabittle had to outweigh him at least twice over.) Argyle wandered through the doorway into the other room, exploring. There were shelves on almost every wall covered with various trinkets, knickknacks and even a few books and boxes. Some bore names he couldn’t recognize, some were so old they were illegible, but a few looked familiar. Checkers! Oh, why couldn’t he retain memory of important things, like the way home, but he could remember checkers? “Come try this.” Argyle turned to refute him, but had to stop halfway through. “I said I don’t - what’s that smell?” Alphabittle grinned slyly. “Well, you won’t like it, since it’s ferns.” “I’ll give it a try, everything bears trying once,” Argyle huffed, and trotted back into the kitchen before Alphabittle could change his mind. The ferns that were deposited back onto his plate were limp now, cooked in a pan, and glossy with some kind of oil. The scent that hit his nostrils was heavenly, warm and fragrant, and somehow familiar. There were little pale bits of something chopped and mixed in with the ferns. “What is this?” “My mother taught me how to make sautéed ferns when I was a picky little colt.” Alphabittle handed his fork back to him. “Give it a try.” The first mouthful was transcendent, in more ways than one. The flavor was delightful, an olfactory delight that melted on the tongue, but it was familiar somehow. It brought back a memory, but it wasn’t strong enough; there was a kitchen, laughter, two hooves playfully battling for control over a spatula. But the memory was brief, and even as he chewed, it faded away, a blotch of color behind his eyelids and then nothing. When he opened his eyes, he was startled to realize they were wet. “What do you - what’s wrong?” Alphabittle’s smug boasting faded instantly. “It’s really good, you were right. You, uh, you got me.” Argyle chuckled, and hastily stuffed the rest of the ferns into his mouth, chewing thickly. He hummed out a grateful noise, and nodded enthusiastically until Alphabittle frowned and turned away to begin washing the dishes. It gave him enough time to get himself under control and figure out what to say next. Argyle didn’t want to tell him about the laughter and the spatula; it felt too private, but he wasn’t sure why. He didn’t even know what it meant, but it felt like something he shouldn’t share. “I like your house,” Argyle offered after a silence that felt far too long and heavy. “It’s … unique.” “Maybe all houses look like this,” Alphabittle countered, not turning around, “and you just don’t remember.” Argyle considered that for a beat. “Well, that’s definitely possible. You don’t, uh, have anypony you live with? No family?” Alphabittle had stopped scrubbing. Argyle thought he might be ignoring him until he finally broke the silence. “No. But you probably noticed that. No pictures of them, right? Just the ones of my parents.” Argyle colored a rosy shade of lavender as he realized that Alphabittle must have seen his transparent attempt at snooping. “Okay, yes. I’m sorry for snooping, it wasn’t intentional. I thought something might jiggle loose. Maybe something that would remind me.” Alphabittle paused, and an invisible line of tension loosened between his shoulder blades as his frame sagged in front of the sink. Without turning around, Alphabittle resumed his washing. “Why would something in my house remind you of who you are?” “Well, when you put it that way…” Argyle allowed quietly, and pushed his fork around his empty plate. “I remembered the checkers. Why I’d remember a game, and not who I am, escapes me.” “It doesn’t escape you,” Alphabittle corrected him, “it frustrates you.” Argyle wasn’t sure he liked Alphabittle as much as he had at first. He had been very comforting the first day. Right now, he was being annoying with how right he seemed to be at every turn. And smug, too! “Don’t push it so hard. The harder you try, the more deeply the memories will hide.” Alphabittle began drying the dishes, still facing away. He sounded a modicum less smug, which Argyle appreciated. “Memory is very delicate; it cannot be forced or rushed.” “And how do you know so much about the Forgetting Rock?” Argyle frowned, but he directed the frown at his fork, which he was slowly turning on its point. “Because I used to be its keeper.” The fork clattered where Argyle dropped it, prompting Alphabittle to turn. “You were the keeper of the Forgetting Rock?” “Why?” “Well, I -” Something had felt very important, very shocking, but it was slipping out of his grip again. It meant something! It had to! But what? Was he just shocked that this stallion was the one to blame for his current plight? “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t think it would have an owner. A keeper.” Alphabittle chuckled and leaned back against the sink, drying the last few dishes a little slower. His eyes were on the plates and cups, but his gaze had gone far away, lost in memory. (Argyle wished he could share in that enjoyment.) “Not an owner, exactly, although I won’t deny the thought has crossed my mind. I like to collect rare things, as you probably noticed. But the Forgetting Rock is not really … owned, in that way. It’s a protector of the forest, and for many, many years, it was viewed with a lot of fear. Mistrust, even hate. Until my ancestors (while trying to collect it) figured out how to turn its power away from the unicorns, to use it as a shield instead of a weapon. There are many myths of unicorns who wandered too deeply into the forest and came back changed, or never came back at all - that’s probably where the Forgetting Rock came from. But now we know where it is, and how to avoid it.” “What made you stop keeping it?” Alphabittle paused, but Argyle could tell that the way he pretended to examine a hard-water spot was buying time. “Conflict of interest.” “How can you have a conflict of interest with a mythical boulder?” Alphabittle’s eyes sharpened and locked onto Argyle’s. “You’re awfully judgy for somepony who doesn’t remember his last name.” “I don’t need a last name to know that sounds fishy,” Argyle countered. Alphabittle chuffed out an annoyed sound through his nostrils. “Fine. My family line has always been about collecting, alright? Once I started collecting items of some quality, shall we say, there was a concern that I might want to collect the Rock.” “Unicorns were afraid you might take a million-pound boulder and put it on your shelf?” Argyle asked dubiously. “Unicorns are extremely superstitious,” Alphabittle agreed, and gave his pot one last polish before he hung it on the rack over his sink. “Which is what I need to teach you before tomorrow: the forbidden words.” “Forbidden words? Wait - what’s tomorrow?” “Market day.” Chapter 4 - Market DayArgyle wasn’t sure why, but when Alphabittle explained market day, Argyle had been expecting something less depressing. The market was maybe six tables, tops, with grayish-toned unicorns sitting behind each one offering various wares. If the bags under their eyes had been any deeper, they could have offered them to their customers to carry their purchases in. Everypony seemed quiet, downtrodden, pensive… except for Alphabittle. Alphabittle treated the entire event as if it was some kind of speed challenge, and each table was all but interrogated as he approached, lifting each item in turn. “These apples look bruised. They the same ones you brought last week? I’ll pay you half price, and not a coin more, because they’re not fit for much but baking.” “Your onions are sprouting. Hmpf. That looks like a sprout to me. I’ll offer you one silver.” “I like this. The moth holes add character. Yes, that’s sarcasm. But I’ll give you three silver.” “I think you terrorized them, Alphabittle,” Argyle whispered as they trotted away from the market, leaving a path of wide-eyed vendors in their wake. “Good. Keeps them on their toes,” Alphabittle grunted, and came up sharply as a little unicorn stepped suddenly into their path. “Good morning, Mishter Alphabittle!” chirped a filly with a set of teeth still a little too big for her mouth, but a smile that dazzled. “You mished my boot’!” “No, I didn’t,” Alphabittle grunted, but as he turned away, Argyle went behind him, bending down to look at the half-sized booth. “What’re you-” “Well, aren’t you cute, hello there! What are you selling today, young filly?” “I’m shelling craftsh!” The little purple filly beamed, and quickly took her place behind the table, waving her hooves dramatically over each item as she described it. “Welcome to Ishy Mooooonbow’sh Glittertorium! We have necklaceshesh made from the finesht pashta! We have jeweled hoof trimmersh made from the finesht hoof trimmersh! We have -” “Garbage, sparkly garbage, and garbage,” Alphabittle growled, and gave Argyle’s shoulder a sharp tap. “Let’s go.” “Don’t say that!” Argyle snapped, turning to glare at Alphabittle as the little unicorn filly’s face fell. “She worked very hard! I would like one of your pasta necklaces, please. Where are your parents, so I can pay them?” “Oh, my parentsh aren’t here today! Today ish my firsht day running my own table! I’m grown up now,” Izzy said briskly, and held up an empty jam jar. “Now, will you be tipping twenty pershent or fifty pershent?” But Argyle suddenly staggered backwards; he looked sick. Without a word, he took off at a gallop. “Sho… no tip?” “Take these back to my house after the market. This should cover delivery,” Alphabittle snapped as he dropped his bags and a hoof-full of coins on her table, and paused just a moment as the filly blinked at him. He fished out another hoof-full of coins from his satchel and dropped them into her jar. “This should cover one of those necklaces, too.” “Thank you very much for shopping with Ishy Mooooonbow’sh Glittertorium!” Izzy called after Alphabittle as he took off at a gallop after Argyle. - “Argyle!” Alphabittle shouted as loudly as he dared, not wanting to alert anypony else. It was hard not to, given how dour, depressed and solemn the rest of the forest tended to be, but forests were a blessing in terms of blocked sight lines. He zigged and zagged, trying to avoid the highly-populated paths while keeping Argyle’s flapping cloak in his sight, but Argyle’s pace never faltered. Eventually, they ran out of forest, and Alphabittle came to a panicked halt when he hit the meadow, scanning for the blue stallion. “Argyle!” Argyle stood in the center of the meadow, his cloak streaked with mud and branches. “Argyle, you have to be careful, if somepony sees you without your hood - Gyle.” Alphabittle’s voice dropped to a whisper, realizing that his face was streaked with tears. “She’s too young to be working at that booth all by herself, Alphabittle!” “What? She’s old enough, and there’s unicorns all around her, she won’t -” “She’s too little! How will she manage without her parents?” “Her parents are in their house a few trees away, what are you talking about?” “No! She’s too young to be working at the smoothie stand!” The silence stretched between them, until a strangled cry escaped from Argyle’s throat. “Argyle?” “Something - something’s wrong! Something big, and I can’t - I can’t remember!Somepony needs me, and I can’t - I can’t make it come back!” Argyle dug his hooves into his mane as he slid down to his knees, but even his gritted teeth couldn’t hold the next sob back. “I could almost see her in that filly’s face, but I can’t - I need to go to her, but I don’t remember where.” Argyle tugged at his mane, trying to keep the tears at bay, but finally gave in to them when he felt Alphabittle’s forelegs wrap around him. It was too much to resist, with the warmth of his chest to hide in, broad enough to muffle even the loudest of his cries. The pair sat there for what felt like a long time, but once Argyle’s sobs had quieted to sniffling, Alphabittle easily hefted him onto his back and carried him back to his cottage. They met nopony else on the path; a tribute to Alphabittle’s knowledge of hidden forest trails, no doubt. Alphabittle helped him onto the sofa that had become his bed, then wordlessly retreated to the kitchen. Just when Argyle was beginning to fear he had been abandoned, Alphabittle silently returned with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate on a tray. It was his favorite, he remembered suddenly; his favorite comfort after a long day of … whatever it was he did. “Thank you,” Argyle rasped, and took a deep, grateful sip. Marshmallows too! Alphabittle merely grunted, and sipped his hot cocoa from the other end of the sofa, fussing with the tray so that he didn’t have to look at him. Argyle let the silence stretch out for a long time, until the bottom of his mug held only chocolate-powder mud. He swirled it, as if the silt might hold some answers. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you at the market today,” Argyle began tentatively. Alphabittle grunted. “I suppose I shouldn’t qualify it with ‘if’; I did embarrass you. I don’t know what came over me. It was this powerful sense of longing, and loss, and sudden, choking fear.” Argyle cleared his throat softly, feeling the tears trying to creep up again to illustrate. “I don’t know why the little filly made me feel like that. She was just … so small.” Alphabittle grunted, and added a word. “S’alright.” But the rest of Argyle’s planned apology faded away, and he turned away from where Alphabittle was already turned away from him, and tried to contain the fresh wave of guilt and sorrow that rose in him, unbidden. “Sorry,” Argyle choked out at last, and pushed his hoof against the edge of his mouth, as if he could stem the wave before it started. “Sorry.” The room was quiet, too quiet; Argyle could hear every sniffle and choked breath as if it echoed, and his deep inhale of breath might as well have been a cannon going off. He tried to think of something else, anything else, but his memory kept coming back to the small, lisping filly. Still, he fought valiantly, and tried to keep from crying in front of the stranger a second time. He didn’t usually cry like this! He hoped! Argyle was so wrapped up in his own misery and confusion that he didn’t notice Alphabittle moving until he sat down behind him, the sofa sagging with his added weight, which all but pulled Argyle back against his front. His hoof was light, tentative, and when it finally landed on Argyle’s mane, it was gentle. “It’ll be alright.” “Are you crying?” Argyle could have said anything; why are you touching me? Why did you open your house to a stranger, and such a problematic one at that? Why are you so kind to me? Why are you doing this? But instead what came out sounded more like a demand, and a much sharper one than he had intended. “No,” Alphabittle lied, but his voice cracked, and he glared at Argyle from under his thick, wild eyebrows for a beat before he continued. “It’s not my fault, you cried first.” “But you’re - you don’t cry. You’re rough, and rude. You brutalized the ponies at the market, even the little filly - but not me. Why not me? I don’t -” “Oh, shut up,” Alphabittle growled, his voice as rough with tears as Argyle’s was, and yanked him the few remaining inches to cradle against his broad chest once more. His grip was tight, bordering on painful, but his forelegs shook as he held him. “I don’t understand,” Argyle whispered, his voice cracking, abandoning his attempt to stem the tears. “You don’t have a monopoly on losing somepony, earth pony,” Alphabittle ground out, and lowered his chin to rest on top of Argyle’s mane, so that his nose could touch Argyle’s ear. Argyle had felt something like that before; light, fluttering, gentle. Filled with longing that wasn’t supposed to exist between their kinds. No, Argyle hadn’t felt something like that touch before; he had felt that touch. In the meadow, the same meadow, when the saplings had been little more than sprouts. A gray unicorn stallion, shaded by starlight, less broad but no less sorrowful. He had held him close in those same massive forelegs. Don’t forget me, a whisper in his ear, his voice craggy but split with sorrow. How could I forget my own heart? He had said that; how could he have forgotten? How could he have forgotten Bittle? “Don’t cry,” Argyle was crying anew, but he was fighting Alphabittle now, lifting his forelegs to catch his face in his hooves, cradling him as he gazed up at his beloved, drinking him in as if for the first time. “Don’t cry, please, Bittle.” “Gyle?” Alphabittle whispered, and his grumpy, craggy front crumbled. “I’m sorry, Bittle. I’m so sorry. I’m here now.” Argyle pressed their foreheads together, and they fit together as if they had been created to match. “You have been so brave. You don’t have to be brave anymore. I’m here now.” Chapter 5 - The Past“Oops!” Argyle laughed, his heart lighter than it had been in a long time. He all but pranced down the craggy cliff path, wending his way down the unmarked road that would take him away from Maretime Bay. His hat slid off his head in the brisk sea breeze; it spiraled out of reach almost instantly, fluttering down into the water and out of sight. “I better be careful, or else somepony might think I’ve been lost at sea!” he chuckled to himself, then set off once more, whistling a jaunty tune. It was a silly mood, on a silly day; but it was a day that was worthy of such silly merriment, he thought. Today, Sunny was off to her very first day of work at the smoothie cart. Sure, it was only sweeping and stocking, but it was a very big deal to Sunny! It was the very first job that the filly had ever had. Fillies and colts could pick up jobs at relatively young ages where they lived; they were lucky enough to live in the bustling metropolis of Maretime Bay after all, which was as safe as any city could get! So she went off to school, then off to work for a couple of hours, and then back home to the lighthouse. But today was also a very big deal for Argyle, because today was the first day of his ‘camping trip.’ Sunny was finally old enough to be left on her own for a little while, with the neighbor Mrs. Witherstone checking in on her each evening, and that meant that it was finally safe for Argyle to leave long enough to see Bittle. It had happened so suddenly, all those years ago. It was funny how fast things could change. He’d just put the lighthouse up for sale, ready to leave Maretime Bay to pursue his unicorn mate, when a shadow clouded his doorstep. His ex fiancée, the mare he hadn’t seen in almost a year at that point, carrying a little orange fuzzball in a carrier. I can’t keep her anymore, she’d said through tears, not on my own. But if we - No. That’s never happening. I have somepony else now, Argyle had said, sharper than he’d intended. He’d already felt the claws of the prison closing around him. She’d cried at that; Argyle had been frustrated at the time, but now, with more mature eyes, he could see how the prison was closing around her, too. There’s a mare in town who will take her, Phyllis - I’ll take her. It hadn’t even been a question in his mind. He couldn’t put himself back into the prison he’d escaped, but the filly? She was so tiny, so helpless; he couldn’t leave her. And she was his. I just need a few days. He had made good time to Bridlewood, galloping the whole way in a tearful blur. He could barely manage the bird call that signaled to Alphabittle that he had arrived, and his heart broke all over again when he saw the way Bittle’s expression faltered as he galloped across the moonlit meadow. They made their final goodbye that very night, clinging to one another. They tried to memorize the way the other felt in their forelegs, the tight press against their chests, the brush of a nose on an ear, the way a tangle of blue mane felt when it brushed under a chin. When she’s old enough, when she will be okay on her own for a little while, I will come back to you. I promise. I’ll write as often as I can until then. You can get your old job back now, right? The keeper of the Forgetting Rock? How could I ever do that? Knowing that I would be lying in my duties to keep dangerous earth ponies away? Alphabittle was so beautiful in the moonlight, all of his sharp, rough, rude edges softened only for Argyle to see. His sad laugh broke Argyle’s heart, and he pulled him close again, holding him so tight it almost hurt. Don’t forget me, Alphabittle had whispered, and Argyle could hear his heart breaking in the words. How could I forget my own heart? Argyle whispered back, and flicked his ear against his mouth. He could feel the soft brush of his lips when Alphabittle kissed it in reply. I will think of you every day. As soon as I can, I will come back to you. I will wait for you. He’d waited for so long; but little fillies grew up much faster than expected, and with a filly like Sunny, every day had been a joy. He was so lost in his own thoughts, so excited to see his Bittle, to tell him about Sunny, to share his plans for their lives together (moving to Maretime Bay! Fanciful hats to cover the horn! A clever cover story! Splitting time between Bridlewood and Maretime Bay!), that he didn’t realize that the unicorns had moved the Forgetting Rock until he was upon it. He knew he didn’t have much time. Argyle ran like a stallion possessed, his hooves tearing up the turf of the meadow as he left the trail, cutting a direct path to the forest. “Bittle! Bittle!” he shouted, terror coloring his voice, but even as he ran, he wondered, who was Bittle, again? “Help! Bi - Help! Help!” he cried, and as he came to a stumbling, staggering halt, he thought he could see a glimpse of something gray and stormy emerging from the edge of the forest. Oh, he thought, this is nice; these saplings will offer some perfectly lovely shade, since my hat is gone. Where did my hat go, I wonder? Did I have a hat? And with that final thought, Argyle slipped away from consciousness. Chapter 6 - The FutureIt wasn’t Alphabittle’s original house. That was why it hadn’t felt as familiar as the sautéed ferns had tasted; it was all of the same items, but moved to the cottage attached to his new business. He had eventually given up the cottage on the edge of the Bridlewood forest. It had proven too painful, spending every night waiting for bird calls that never came. Argyle shifted, and he felt Alphabittle shift behind him. They were coat to coat now, curled up on one edge of the sofa together, wrapped in a hoofmade quilt Bittle had won in a card game. “I could go back,” Argyle whispered, bringing the argument back to the forefront. Bittle sighed, but it was a tired sound, not angry. “I could do it. It might work.” “Lie to your daughter’s face, every day? For the rest of her life?” Argyle’s eyes closed, pained. “It’s better than letting her think I’m dead.” “It’s been a week, Argyle.” “What? No, it’s only been - what, two -” “You were asleep before that. For a long time. It took everything I knew to bring you back.” “But you said unicorns had remedies to the Forgetting Rock. You said they were fixed in a day or two.” “Yes, unicorns do,” Alphabittle explained, and where it might have been a sharply frustrated sound with anypony else, with Argyle there was patience, and a soft hoof stroking his mane. “It took time. I was lucky to be close enough to hear you when you called for help.” Argyle shivered, and Alphabittle pulled him backwards, pressing him more snugly against his chest. “She’s my daughter. I can’t leave my girl alone - she’s my whole world.” “And her whole world is unicorns and pegasi. If she even gets one hint that we’re real, and her father knows us, she’ll …” Alphabittle frowned, and tried to imagine what might happen with his limited knowledge of Maretime Bay. “She wouldn’t be able to keep it quiet. I couldn’t lie to her forever, and she couldn’t lie to everypony else. She wants to save the world, to make everypony believe. But the ponies in Maretime Bay… they’re not ready for that.” Argyle sighed, and pressed his face into Alphabittle’s broad neck. “And if Phyllis gets one hint about Bridlewood… I swear, she’d figure out how to arm the PTA if she could. Any little taste of power just makes her worse and worse.” “Bridlewood wouldn’t go down without a fight,” Alphabittle agreed softly, and smoothed his hoof over Argyle’s side. When the quilt drooped, he gently lifted it back up, wrapping Argyle in its warmth. “Would it really mean war if I went back to Maretime Bay?” Argyle whispered, and looked up at Alphabittle, pleading for reassurance that the unicorn couldn’t give. Alphabittle’s gaze was sad where it rested on Argyle, and wordlessly, he buried his partner in his forelegs as the tears returned anew. “How am I supposed to say goodbye?” Argyle whispered. “Not forever. Only until she’s old enough. Only until she’s given up the fight, or until she can get better at lying?” Argyle looked up at Bittle, and despite his tears, gave him a watery grin. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” “I’m a much better liar than you. I made you believe I didn’t remember the most important pony in my life, didn’t I?” “Only for two days. And you were very suspicious,” Argyle sniffed, and despite everything, having Bittle’s warm forelegs wrapped around him made even the worst scenario feel more hopeful. “We’ll figure out a way to get her out safely. But, for now…” “For now, you’ll die. She’ll be okay, Argyle; she’s old enough.” “She’s just a baby. She’s my baby.” Argyle whispered as his voice cracked. “She’s not any bigger than that little filly at the market.” “But twice as precocious, if anything you’ve told me about her is true,” Alphabittle countered, and rubbed his hoof over Argyle’s back as he huffed out a tearful sigh. “She’ll be alright. And you’ll be alright, too.” “But she doesn’t have somepony like you to protect her,” Argyle whispered, and looked up at him. “She’ll find somepony in time,” Alphabittle countered, and lowered his chin to press a kiss to Argyle’s lips. “You will find her again, and I will keep your heart safe until then.” “Thank you, Bittle,” Argyle whispered, and snuggled himself down into his grip, closing his eyes as he hid his face in his neck once more. As he got comfortable, he could feel Alphabittle’s mouth begin kissing a trail down his neck and onto his shoulder. “I love you.” “And I you.” Argyle sniffled softly. He was trying to be quiet, to keep the tears from ruining what should have been a romantic reunion, but it was pointless. “You remembered me.” Alphabittle reminded him softly, his nose whispering soft breaths at his nape. “Every day,” Argyle agreed, swallowing thickly. “Everything Sunny loves about unicorns is what I love about you.” Despite everything, Alphabittle smiled. “It is alright if you cry, Argyle.” “I should be happy to be back by your side,” Argyle insisted, but his voice cracked. He tried to muffle himself by hiding his face in Alphabittle’s neck again. “And I am. I am, I’m so happy. I don’t want you to think I’m not -” “I know,” Alphabittle whispered, and rubbed his back again. “It’s alright. I’ll make you some more hot chocolate when you’re done.” “Thank you, Bittle,” Argyle sniffled, and finally let the tears take him. The next day would dawn over Bridlewood, just as it did every day before and after. But in one corner in one specific forest in Equestria, the day would dawn just a little bit brighter, and Bridlewood became just a little less gray.
Chapter 1 - Who's Argyle?Please, just open your eyes. It was a wonderful dream - or maybe it wasn’t a dream? Was it a memory? It was warm, and comfortable, but blurry. It had that unreal feeling like a dream, but the more he tried to gain his bearings, the blurrier his surroundings became. He was in a - forest? But then the forest was gone, and he stood in a cloud bank, void of any defining features. There was an orange pony, with a brightly colored mane and tail, but she raced out of his reach before he could catch up to her. You have to be okay. The voice! The orange pony was gone, so he ran towards the last steady thing in the dreamscape, the familiar voice. Yet even as he ran, he wondered why it was familiar. With a violent gasp, he pulled himself out of his dream. The pony who had been leaning close to him jerked backwards and landed hard on the floor. There was a floor now! The room came into abrupt, sharp focus - wait, no, still blurry. He squinted, until he remembered that there should be something on his face. His glasses! “Argyle?” The pony on the sofa stiffened and turned towards the voice. The same voice! “Are you alright?” the voice tried again. “Yes, of course I am.” A beat. “Who are you?” The unicorn stared at him, and although blurry, Argyle did his best to fill in the rest of the features that his ears couldn’t supply. Big, round, gray like the cloudbank of his dream, and just as blurry. He stood up from the floor - tall! Oh dear, would this be a problem? - and he moved with the sort of easy grace that took a lifetime to build. He leaned close to the sofa and Argyle tensed; when he pulled back he had something in his hoof, which Argyle only recognized when he placed it on his nose and the world came back into focus. His glasses! “You don’t know who I am?” the unicorn ventured again, and that’s what he was, a unicorn. The word pinged a sharp note of panic, but it hung loosely in his thoughts with nothing else to connect to and quickly faded. A massive unicorn stallion as broad across as a barn, his coat the color of a storm cloud, and a voice that boomed like thunder. And yet his hoof had been so gentle when it placed his glasses on his nose. When did Argyle get so flowery with his descriptions, anyway? “No, I don’t think so,” Argyle said lightly, doing his best not to offend the large stranger. “Do you know me?” “I would like to,” the stranger said tentatively, and he held his hoof out to shake. “My name is Alphabittle. And you are?” “A pleasure to meet you, Alphabittle. My name is -” Argyle opened his mouth, but nothing came. He closed his mouth, then tried again, opening and closing his mouth a few times, trying to form different letters, hoping one would spark some recognition. Something was wrong. Alphabittle must have seen the growing panic in his expression and came closer, but the motion which was meant to comfort only sent Argyle pressing himself more sharply into the corner of the sofa. Alphabittle retreated, pressing himself into the opposite corner as he watched Argyle unravel. “Why - why don’t I know - that’s - it’s my name, shouldn’t I -” “Do you remember how you came to Bridlewood?” “What’s - what’s Bridlewood?” The name pinged a memory, like the word ‘unicorn’ had, but it couldn’t catch, and spiraled away out of his reach. “The forest? Do you remember a forest?” The forest in his dream! But the memory had already fluttered away. Was the forest real? Was the orange pony real? Was he orange? No, he confirmed quickly with a glance downward, he was a bright shade of blue, with a darker mane and tail. Not as broad as the one across him on the sofa, that’s for sure. Was he in danger? “It’s okay, Argyle. Deep breath.” Argyle! He’d said it before, but now it was like he could really hear it! But when he repeated it back to him, softer, it felt strange in his mouth. “Argyle.” “That’s you.” Argyle sat for a moment, and simply stared at Alphabittle. He was making no aggressive moves, and if anything, he almost looked… sad? Worried, perhaps. Celestia’s Pauldrons, he hoped that he remembered how expressions worked better than he remembered who he was. Argyle might not have been able to remember much, but he could remember that waking up with a big stranger in a strange place with no memory to protect him was a very, very unsafe place to be. And it felt like it ought to be even more dangerous, but Argyle couldn’t quite remember why. “How do you know my name, if you don’t know who I am?” Argyle’s suspicions kicked into overdrive as panic flashed over Alphabittle’s face, which he tried to disguise (badly) with a cough. “Well, you were mumbling in your sleep. Either you’re Argyle, or you know an Argyle.” Alphabittle swallowed. “Do you, uh, know an Argyle?” Argyle shook his head; that’s who he was, wasn’t he? It felt right once he said it a few times, like it slotted into some place in his memory, next to the place that reminded him that he wore glasses. But the rest of it - Bridlewood, a forest, unicorn, an orange blur, Alphabittle - none of it was fitting. He touched his glasses with a hoof, then pulled them off of his face, staring at them as if they might hold some answer for him. “What happened to me?”
Chapter 2 - Who's Alphabittle?“We call it the Forgetting Rock,” Alphabittle explained softly, even though they stood alone at the edge of the forest. The forest was called Bridlewood, and even though his memories slid out of his grasp like so many stranded fish after a storm (where did he know fish from?), he tried to hold onto every bit of information Alphabittle was giving him. “Forgetting Rock,” Argyle repeated back to him, and pulled his cloak closer around him as a deep shiver went through him. He didn’t remember it, but looking at it made the pit of his stomach churn. Something bad whispered at the edges of his thoughts, something he couldn’t quite grab onto. “I found you just over there, out cold,” Alphabittle explained, nodding his head towards a small copse of sapling trees on the path between the boulder and the forest. The boulder sat some yards away from a friendly-looking signpost, as benign as any rock could be. “It’s meant to be protective. No pony is supposed to find us here.” “Why?” Alphabittle’s eyes slid to Argyle sidelong, but he hesitated to answer when he saw only confusion in the blue pony’s gaze. What had been guff came out instead softer, more careful. “The unicorns of Bridlewood are very afraid of strangers finding us. There are… bad strangers in the world.” Argyle wasn’t sure why Alphabittle was being so cautious, until it suddenly smacked him in the face. “But I’m a stranger! What if I’m the bad stranger?” Alphabittle’s laughter was so sudden, so booming, that it startled Argyle very nearly off of his hooves. “Sorry. There you go,” and with one mighty foreleg, he lifted Argyle back upright again. “I don’t think you are a bad stranger. I think you are probably just somepony who got lost and happened to wander a little too close to our trap.” “Well, that’s very forgiving of you,” Argyle said a little sharply, not wanting to admit how embarrassed he had been to be knocked over by a laugh. “I also checked you for any dangerous contraband before you woke up,” Alphabittle added, and it was Argyle’s turn to try and hide his reaction with a little cough. “That was a good idea, probably, yes.” Argyle was grateful when Alphabittle’s laugh was much softer the second time, low and rumbly in his chest. “When will my memory come back? When can I go home?” “If you remember where to go,” Alphabittle said with a little step forward, leading him out of the forest, “then you may go now. Whenever you’d like.” Argyle took a confident step forward, then another, and stopped. He stared out at the verdant meadow, the saplings swaying gently in a breeze, the seemingly innocuous boulder that radiated malice from the center of a picturesque scene. He swallowed. He waited for a guiding memory that never came. The pair stood quietly for a moment before Alphabittle broke the silence. “You will stay with me, then. Until you can remember how to get home.” “What if I never remember?” Argyle asked, and his voice was softer than he had meant it to be, barely above a whisper. “Then we will grow old together,” and there was some emotion in his voice that made Argyle turn, but Alphabittle had already turned away to walk back into the forest. “Keep that hood up,” he called over his shoulder, and didn’t bother to slow down so that Argyle had to trot to catch up to him to ask his next question. “Why? You don’t have a hood.” “Because I have a horn,” Alphabittle answered evenly. Argyle smoothed his hoof over his forehead, and gasped sharply when he found nothing there. That was the panic that had zanged though his thoughts, the same feeling he got banging his elbow on a table. He wasn’t a unicorn - but Alphabittle was. All of Bridlewood was. And that was bad … for some reason. Alphabittle was looking at him, and Argyle realized that he had stopped walking. “But I - I don’t -” “If anypony asks,” Alphabittle continued smoothly, “you’re my cousin from a distant branch of my mother’s family tree who came from a far away forest, which was why you didn’t know about the Forgetting Rock. We will find you a substitute horn - soon. For now, let me do the talking.” It wasn’t until later that night, when Argyle was tucked back onto the sofa beneath a thick mound of hoof-made quilts and with a belly full of a delicious dinner, that he fully understood the weight of what was happening. He was an earth pony; another fact that slotted into his memory, next to his name. Not a unicorn, but an earth pony, one who had wandered into a foreign land, and stumbled into a trap intended to keep ponies exactly like him away. Why, he wondered, was Alphabittle so ready to take him under his wing? His final thought before falling asleep was that he may someday remember who he was, but he wasn’t sure he would ever understand Alphabittle.
Chapter 3 - Ferns“I don’t like ferns.” Alphabittle chuckled, the rumbly-thunder sound in his chest again. “Yesterday you didn’t know your name, and now you remember that you don’t like ferns?” “I may not know much, but I know a few things, and I distinctly remember,” Argyle said as he waved his fork full of ferns at Alphabittle, “that I do not like these.” “You only took one bite,” Alphabittle countered with a laugh, but obligingly took his plate away. “Here. Let me try something.” While Alphabittle busied himself at the stovetop in the kitchen (as rustic as it was, cooking over a covered wood fire instead of - wait, what was it supposed to have?), Argyle allowed his eyes to rove over the space more intently. Yesterday had been a foggy mess with lost memories, the discovery of his missing horn, of Bridlewood, of unicorns, of a deadly trap in a friendly meadow. He’d barely had the time or capacity to consider his surroundings. It was almost familiar, but he hadn’t expected it to be. Perhaps sleeping there, feeling safe, had given it a measure of familiarity that his empty memories clung to. He was sitting in the small kitchen, filled with good smells and hanging herbs and pots, and in the room beyond was the sofa where he slept. It was a bachelor pad, since it seemed that Alphabittle lived alone, and he saw no photos of family or even friends. There were a few framed photos mostly in the kitchen, and when he looked closely, he could recognize a tiny Alphabittle sitting with two large storm-colored unicorns. Parents, a family; but no children, no wife. That realization made Argyle feel funny, and his memory returned to the fleeting orange figure in his dream. Did he have a wife? The thought didn’t fill him with any comfort. He turned from that disquieting thought and pushed himself away from the sturdily-built table. (It had to be; Alphabittle had to outweigh him at least twice over.) Argyle wandered through the doorway into the other room, exploring. There were shelves on almost every wall covered with various trinkets, knickknacks and even a few books and boxes. Some bore names he couldn’t recognize, some were so old they were illegible, but a few looked familiar. Checkers! Oh, why couldn’t he retain memory of important things, like the way home, but he could remember checkers? “Come try this.” Argyle turned to refute him, but had to stop halfway through. “I said I don’t - what’s that smell?” Alphabittle grinned slyly. “Well, you won’t like it, since it’s ferns.” “I’ll give it a try, everything bears trying once,” Argyle huffed, and trotted back into the kitchen before Alphabittle could change his mind. The ferns that were deposited back onto his plate were limp now, cooked in a pan, and glossy with some kind of oil. The scent that hit his nostrils was heavenly, warm and fragrant, and somehow familiar. There were little pale bits of something chopped and mixed in with the ferns. “What is this?” “My mother taught me how to make sautéed ferns when I was a picky little colt.” Alphabittle handed his fork back to him. “Give it a try.” The first mouthful was transcendent, in more ways than one. The flavor was delightful, an olfactory delight that melted on the tongue, but it was familiar somehow. It brought back a memory, but it wasn’t strong enough; there was a kitchen, laughter, two hooves playfully battling for control over a spatula. But the memory was brief, and even as he chewed, it faded away, a blotch of color behind his eyelids and then nothing. When he opened his eyes, he was startled to realize they were wet. “What do you - what’s wrong?” Alphabittle’s smug boasting faded instantly. “It’s really good, you were right. You, uh, you got me.” Argyle chuckled, and hastily stuffed the rest of the ferns into his mouth, chewing thickly. He hummed out a grateful noise, and nodded enthusiastically until Alphabittle frowned and turned away to begin washing the dishes. It gave him enough time to get himself under control and figure out what to say next. Argyle didn’t want to tell him about the laughter and the spatula; it felt too private, but he wasn’t sure why. He didn’t even know what it meant, but it felt like something he shouldn’t share. “I like your house,” Argyle offered after a silence that felt far too long and heavy. “It’s … unique.” “Maybe all houses look like this,” Alphabittle countered, not turning around, “and you just don’t remember.” Argyle considered that for a beat. “Well, that’s definitely possible. You don’t, uh, have anypony you live with? No family?” Alphabittle had stopped scrubbing. Argyle thought he might be ignoring him until he finally broke the silence. “No. But you probably noticed that. No pictures of them, right? Just the ones of my parents.” Argyle colored a rosy shade of lavender as he realized that Alphabittle must have seen his transparent attempt at snooping. “Okay, yes. I’m sorry for snooping, it wasn’t intentional. I thought something might jiggle loose. Maybe something that would remind me.” Alphabittle paused, and an invisible line of tension loosened between his shoulder blades as his frame sagged in front of the sink. Without turning around, Alphabittle resumed his washing. “Why would something in my house remind you of who you are?” “Well, when you put it that way…” Argyle allowed quietly, and pushed his fork around his empty plate. “I remembered the checkers. Why I’d remember a game, and not who I am, escapes me.” “It doesn’t escape you,” Alphabittle corrected him, “it frustrates you.” Argyle wasn’t sure he liked Alphabittle as much as he had at first. He had been very comforting the first day. Right now, he was being annoying with how right he seemed to be at every turn. And smug, too! “Don’t push it so hard. The harder you try, the more deeply the memories will hide.” Alphabittle began drying the dishes, still facing away. He sounded a modicum less smug, which Argyle appreciated. “Memory is very delicate; it cannot be forced or rushed.” “And how do you know so much about the Forgetting Rock?” Argyle frowned, but he directed the frown at his fork, which he was slowly turning on its point. “Because I used to be its keeper.” The fork clattered where Argyle dropped it, prompting Alphabittle to turn. “You were the keeper of the Forgetting Rock?” “Why?” “Well, I -” Something had felt very important, very shocking, but it was slipping out of his grip again. It meant something! It had to! But what? Was he just shocked that this stallion was the one to blame for his current plight? “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t think it would have an owner. A keeper.” Alphabittle chuckled and leaned back against the sink, drying the last few dishes a little slower. His eyes were on the plates and cups, but his gaze had gone far away, lost in memory. (Argyle wished he could share in that enjoyment.) “Not an owner, exactly, although I won’t deny the thought has crossed my mind. I like to collect rare things, as you probably noticed. But the Forgetting Rock is not really … owned, in that way. It’s a protector of the forest, and for many, many years, it was viewed with a lot of fear. Mistrust, even hate. Until my ancestors (while trying to collect it) figured out how to turn its power away from the unicorns, to use it as a shield instead of a weapon. There are many myths of unicorns who wandered too deeply into the forest and came back changed, or never came back at all - that’s probably where the Forgetting Rock came from. But now we know where it is, and how to avoid it.” “What made you stop keeping it?” Alphabittle paused, but Argyle could tell that the way he pretended to examine a hard-water spot was buying time. “Conflict of interest.” “How can you have a conflict of interest with a mythical boulder?” Alphabittle’s eyes sharpened and locked onto Argyle’s. “You’re awfully judgy for somepony who doesn’t remember his last name.” “I don’t need a last name to know that sounds fishy,” Argyle countered. Alphabittle chuffed out an annoyed sound through his nostrils. “Fine. My family line has always been about collecting, alright? Once I started collecting items of some quality, shall we say, there was a concern that I might want to collect the Rock.” “Unicorns were afraid you might take a million-pound boulder and put it on your shelf?” Argyle asked dubiously. “Unicorns are extremely superstitious,” Alphabittle agreed, and gave his pot one last polish before he hung it on the rack over his sink. “Which is what I need to teach you before tomorrow: the forbidden words.” “Forbidden words? Wait - what’s tomorrow?” “Market day.”
Chapter 4 - Market DayArgyle wasn’t sure why, but when Alphabittle explained market day, Argyle had been expecting something less depressing. The market was maybe six tables, tops, with grayish-toned unicorns sitting behind each one offering various wares. If the bags under their eyes had been any deeper, they could have offered them to their customers to carry their purchases in. Everypony seemed quiet, downtrodden, pensive… except for Alphabittle. Alphabittle treated the entire event as if it was some kind of speed challenge, and each table was all but interrogated as he approached, lifting each item in turn. “These apples look bruised. They the same ones you brought last week? I’ll pay you half price, and not a coin more, because they’re not fit for much but baking.” “Your onions are sprouting. Hmpf. That looks like a sprout to me. I’ll offer you one silver.” “I like this. The moth holes add character. Yes, that’s sarcasm. But I’ll give you three silver.” “I think you terrorized them, Alphabittle,” Argyle whispered as they trotted away from the market, leaving a path of wide-eyed vendors in their wake. “Good. Keeps them on their toes,” Alphabittle grunted, and came up sharply as a little unicorn stepped suddenly into their path. “Good morning, Mishter Alphabittle!” chirped a filly with a set of teeth still a little too big for her mouth, but a smile that dazzled. “You mished my boot’!” “No, I didn’t,” Alphabittle grunted, but as he turned away, Argyle went behind him, bending down to look at the half-sized booth. “What’re you-” “Well, aren’t you cute, hello there! What are you selling today, young filly?” “I’m shelling craftsh!” The little purple filly beamed, and quickly took her place behind the table, waving her hooves dramatically over each item as she described it. “Welcome to Ishy Mooooonbow’sh Glittertorium! We have necklaceshesh made from the finesht pashta! We have jeweled hoof trimmersh made from the finesht hoof trimmersh! We have -” “Garbage, sparkly garbage, and garbage,” Alphabittle growled, and gave Argyle’s shoulder a sharp tap. “Let’s go.” “Don’t say that!” Argyle snapped, turning to glare at Alphabittle as the little unicorn filly’s face fell. “She worked very hard! I would like one of your pasta necklaces, please. Where are your parents, so I can pay them?” “Oh, my parentsh aren’t here today! Today ish my firsht day running my own table! I’m grown up now,” Izzy said briskly, and held up an empty jam jar. “Now, will you be tipping twenty pershent or fifty pershent?” But Argyle suddenly staggered backwards; he looked sick. Without a word, he took off at a gallop. “Sho… no tip?” “Take these back to my house after the market. This should cover delivery,” Alphabittle snapped as he dropped his bags and a hoof-full of coins on her table, and paused just a moment as the filly blinked at him. He fished out another hoof-full of coins from his satchel and dropped them into her jar. “This should cover one of those necklaces, too.” “Thank you very much for shopping with Ishy Mooooonbow’sh Glittertorium!” Izzy called after Alphabittle as he took off at a gallop after Argyle. - “Argyle!” Alphabittle shouted as loudly as he dared, not wanting to alert anypony else. It was hard not to, given how dour, depressed and solemn the rest of the forest tended to be, but forests were a blessing in terms of blocked sight lines. He zigged and zagged, trying to avoid the highly-populated paths while keeping Argyle’s flapping cloak in his sight, but Argyle’s pace never faltered. Eventually, they ran out of forest, and Alphabittle came to a panicked halt when he hit the meadow, scanning for the blue stallion. “Argyle!” Argyle stood in the center of the meadow, his cloak streaked with mud and branches. “Argyle, you have to be careful, if somepony sees you without your hood - Gyle.” Alphabittle’s voice dropped to a whisper, realizing that his face was streaked with tears. “She’s too young to be working at that booth all by herself, Alphabittle!” “What? She’s old enough, and there’s unicorns all around her, she won’t -” “She’s too little! How will she manage without her parents?” “Her parents are in their house a few trees away, what are you talking about?” “No! She’s too young to be working at the smoothie stand!” The silence stretched between them, until a strangled cry escaped from Argyle’s throat. “Argyle?” “Something - something’s wrong! Something big, and I can’t - I can’t remember!Somepony needs me, and I can’t - I can’t make it come back!” Argyle dug his hooves into his mane as he slid down to his knees, but even his gritted teeth couldn’t hold the next sob back. “I could almost see her in that filly’s face, but I can’t - I need to go to her, but I don’t remember where.” Argyle tugged at his mane, trying to keep the tears at bay, but finally gave in to them when he felt Alphabittle’s forelegs wrap around him. It was too much to resist, with the warmth of his chest to hide in, broad enough to muffle even the loudest of his cries. The pair sat there for what felt like a long time, but once Argyle’s sobs had quieted to sniffling, Alphabittle easily hefted him onto his back and carried him back to his cottage. They met nopony else on the path; a tribute to Alphabittle’s knowledge of hidden forest trails, no doubt. Alphabittle helped him onto the sofa that had become his bed, then wordlessly retreated to the kitchen. Just when Argyle was beginning to fear he had been abandoned, Alphabittle silently returned with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate on a tray. It was his favorite, he remembered suddenly; his favorite comfort after a long day of … whatever it was he did. “Thank you,” Argyle rasped, and took a deep, grateful sip. Marshmallows too! Alphabittle merely grunted, and sipped his hot cocoa from the other end of the sofa, fussing with the tray so that he didn’t have to look at him. Argyle let the silence stretch out for a long time, until the bottom of his mug held only chocolate-powder mud. He swirled it, as if the silt might hold some answers. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you at the market today,” Argyle began tentatively. Alphabittle grunted. “I suppose I shouldn’t qualify it with ‘if’; I did embarrass you. I don’t know what came over me. It was this powerful sense of longing, and loss, and sudden, choking fear.” Argyle cleared his throat softly, feeling the tears trying to creep up again to illustrate. “I don’t know why the little filly made me feel like that. She was just … so small.” Alphabittle grunted, and added a word. “S’alright.” But the rest of Argyle’s planned apology faded away, and he turned away from where Alphabittle was already turned away from him, and tried to contain the fresh wave of guilt and sorrow that rose in him, unbidden. “Sorry,” Argyle choked out at last, and pushed his hoof against the edge of his mouth, as if he could stem the wave before it started. “Sorry.” The room was quiet, too quiet; Argyle could hear every sniffle and choked breath as if it echoed, and his deep inhale of breath might as well have been a cannon going off. He tried to think of something else, anything else, but his memory kept coming back to the small, lisping filly. Still, he fought valiantly, and tried to keep from crying in front of the stranger a second time. He didn’t usually cry like this! He hoped! Argyle was so wrapped up in his own misery and confusion that he didn’t notice Alphabittle moving until he sat down behind him, the sofa sagging with his added weight, which all but pulled Argyle back against his front. His hoof was light, tentative, and when it finally landed on Argyle’s mane, it was gentle. “It’ll be alright.” “Are you crying?” Argyle could have said anything; why are you touching me? Why did you open your house to a stranger, and such a problematic one at that? Why are you so kind to me? Why are you doing this? But instead what came out sounded more like a demand, and a much sharper one than he had intended. “No,” Alphabittle lied, but his voice cracked, and he glared at Argyle from under his thick, wild eyebrows for a beat before he continued. “It’s not my fault, you cried first.” “But you’re - you don’t cry. You’re rough, and rude. You brutalized the ponies at the market, even the little filly - but not me. Why not me? I don’t -” “Oh, shut up,” Alphabittle growled, his voice as rough with tears as Argyle’s was, and yanked him the few remaining inches to cradle against his broad chest once more. His grip was tight, bordering on painful, but his forelegs shook as he held him. “I don’t understand,” Argyle whispered, his voice cracking, abandoning his attempt to stem the tears. “You don’t have a monopoly on losing somepony, earth pony,” Alphabittle ground out, and lowered his chin to rest on top of Argyle’s mane, so that his nose could touch Argyle’s ear. Argyle had felt something like that before; light, fluttering, gentle. Filled with longing that wasn’t supposed to exist between their kinds. No, Argyle hadn’t felt something like that touch before; he had felt that touch. In the meadow, the same meadow, when the saplings had been little more than sprouts. A gray unicorn stallion, shaded by starlight, less broad but no less sorrowful. He had held him close in those same massive forelegs. Don’t forget me, a whisper in his ear, his voice craggy but split with sorrow. How could I forget my own heart? He had said that; how could he have forgotten? How could he have forgotten Bittle? “Don’t cry,” Argyle was crying anew, but he was fighting Alphabittle now, lifting his forelegs to catch his face in his hooves, cradling him as he gazed up at his beloved, drinking him in as if for the first time. “Don’t cry, please, Bittle.” “Gyle?” Alphabittle whispered, and his grumpy, craggy front crumbled. “I’m sorry, Bittle. I’m so sorry. I’m here now.” Argyle pressed their foreheads together, and they fit together as if they had been created to match. “You have been so brave. You don’t have to be brave anymore. I’m here now.”
Chapter 5 - The Past“Oops!” Argyle laughed, his heart lighter than it had been in a long time. He all but pranced down the craggy cliff path, wending his way down the unmarked road that would take him away from Maretime Bay. His hat slid off his head in the brisk sea breeze; it spiraled out of reach almost instantly, fluttering down into the water and out of sight. “I better be careful, or else somepony might think I’ve been lost at sea!” he chuckled to himself, then set off once more, whistling a jaunty tune. It was a silly mood, on a silly day; but it was a day that was worthy of such silly merriment, he thought. Today, Sunny was off to her very first day of work at the smoothie cart. Sure, it was only sweeping and stocking, but it was a very big deal to Sunny! It was the very first job that the filly had ever had. Fillies and colts could pick up jobs at relatively young ages where they lived; they were lucky enough to live in the bustling metropolis of Maretime Bay after all, which was as safe as any city could get! So she went off to school, then off to work for a couple of hours, and then back home to the lighthouse. But today was also a very big deal for Argyle, because today was the first day of his ‘camping trip.’ Sunny was finally old enough to be left on her own for a little while, with the neighbor Mrs. Witherstone checking in on her each evening, and that meant that it was finally safe for Argyle to leave long enough to see Bittle. It had happened so suddenly, all those years ago. It was funny how fast things could change. He’d just put the lighthouse up for sale, ready to leave Maretime Bay to pursue his unicorn mate, when a shadow clouded his doorstep. His ex fiancée, the mare he hadn’t seen in almost a year at that point, carrying a little orange fuzzball in a carrier. I can’t keep her anymore, she’d said through tears, not on my own. But if we - No. That’s never happening. I have somepony else now, Argyle had said, sharper than he’d intended. He’d already felt the claws of the prison closing around him. She’d cried at that; Argyle had been frustrated at the time, but now, with more mature eyes, he could see how the prison was closing around her, too. There’s a mare in town who will take her, Phyllis - I’ll take her. It hadn’t even been a question in his mind. He couldn’t put himself back into the prison he’d escaped, but the filly? She was so tiny, so helpless; he couldn’t leave her. And she was his. I just need a few days. He had made good time to Bridlewood, galloping the whole way in a tearful blur. He could barely manage the bird call that signaled to Alphabittle that he had arrived, and his heart broke all over again when he saw the way Bittle’s expression faltered as he galloped across the moonlit meadow. They made their final goodbye that very night, clinging to one another. They tried to memorize the way the other felt in their forelegs, the tight press against their chests, the brush of a nose on an ear, the way a tangle of blue mane felt when it brushed under a chin. When she’s old enough, when she will be okay on her own for a little while, I will come back to you. I promise. I’ll write as often as I can until then. You can get your old job back now, right? The keeper of the Forgetting Rock? How could I ever do that? Knowing that I would be lying in my duties to keep dangerous earth ponies away? Alphabittle was so beautiful in the moonlight, all of his sharp, rough, rude edges softened only for Argyle to see. His sad laugh broke Argyle’s heart, and he pulled him close again, holding him so tight it almost hurt. Don’t forget me, Alphabittle had whispered, and Argyle could hear his heart breaking in the words. How could I forget my own heart? Argyle whispered back, and flicked his ear against his mouth. He could feel the soft brush of his lips when Alphabittle kissed it in reply. I will think of you every day. As soon as I can, I will come back to you. I will wait for you. He’d waited for so long; but little fillies grew up much faster than expected, and with a filly like Sunny, every day had been a joy. He was so lost in his own thoughts, so excited to see his Bittle, to tell him about Sunny, to share his plans for their lives together (moving to Maretime Bay! Fanciful hats to cover the horn! A clever cover story! Splitting time between Bridlewood and Maretime Bay!), that he didn’t realize that the unicorns had moved the Forgetting Rock until he was upon it. He knew he didn’t have much time. Argyle ran like a stallion possessed, his hooves tearing up the turf of the meadow as he left the trail, cutting a direct path to the forest. “Bittle! Bittle!” he shouted, terror coloring his voice, but even as he ran, he wondered, who was Bittle, again? “Help! Bi - Help! Help!” he cried, and as he came to a stumbling, staggering halt, he thought he could see a glimpse of something gray and stormy emerging from the edge of the forest. Oh, he thought, this is nice; these saplings will offer some perfectly lovely shade, since my hat is gone. Where did my hat go, I wonder? Did I have a hat? And with that final thought, Argyle slipped away from consciousness.
Chapter 6 - The FutureIt wasn’t Alphabittle’s original house. That was why it hadn’t felt as familiar as the sautéed ferns had tasted; it was all of the same items, but moved to the cottage attached to his new business. He had eventually given up the cottage on the edge of the Bridlewood forest. It had proven too painful, spending every night waiting for bird calls that never came. Argyle shifted, and he felt Alphabittle shift behind him. They were coat to coat now, curled up on one edge of the sofa together, wrapped in a hoofmade quilt Bittle had won in a card game. “I could go back,” Argyle whispered, bringing the argument back to the forefront. Bittle sighed, but it was a tired sound, not angry. “I could do it. It might work.” “Lie to your daughter’s face, every day? For the rest of her life?” Argyle’s eyes closed, pained. “It’s better than letting her think I’m dead.” “It’s been a week, Argyle.” “What? No, it’s only been - what, two -” “You were asleep before that. For a long time. It took everything I knew to bring you back.” “But you said unicorns had remedies to the Forgetting Rock. You said they were fixed in a day or two.” “Yes, unicorns do,” Alphabittle explained, and where it might have been a sharply frustrated sound with anypony else, with Argyle there was patience, and a soft hoof stroking his mane. “It took time. I was lucky to be close enough to hear you when you called for help.” Argyle shivered, and Alphabittle pulled him backwards, pressing him more snugly against his chest. “She’s my daughter. I can’t leave my girl alone - she’s my whole world.” “And her whole world is unicorns and pegasi. If she even gets one hint that we’re real, and her father knows us, she’ll …” Alphabittle frowned, and tried to imagine what might happen with his limited knowledge of Maretime Bay. “She wouldn’t be able to keep it quiet. I couldn’t lie to her forever, and she couldn’t lie to everypony else. She wants to save the world, to make everypony believe. But the ponies in Maretime Bay… they’re not ready for that.” Argyle sighed, and pressed his face into Alphabittle’s broad neck. “And if Phyllis gets one hint about Bridlewood… I swear, she’d figure out how to arm the PTA if she could. Any little taste of power just makes her worse and worse.” “Bridlewood wouldn’t go down without a fight,” Alphabittle agreed softly, and smoothed his hoof over Argyle’s side. When the quilt drooped, he gently lifted it back up, wrapping Argyle in its warmth. “Would it really mean war if I went back to Maretime Bay?” Argyle whispered, and looked up at Alphabittle, pleading for reassurance that the unicorn couldn’t give. Alphabittle’s gaze was sad where it rested on Argyle, and wordlessly, he buried his partner in his forelegs as the tears returned anew. “How am I supposed to say goodbye?” Argyle whispered. “Not forever. Only until she’s old enough. Only until she’s given up the fight, or until she can get better at lying?” Argyle looked up at Bittle, and despite his tears, gave him a watery grin. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” “I’m a much better liar than you. I made you believe I didn’t remember the most important pony in my life, didn’t I?” “Only for two days. And you were very suspicious,” Argyle sniffed, and despite everything, having Bittle’s warm forelegs wrapped around him made even the worst scenario feel more hopeful. “We’ll figure out a way to get her out safely. But, for now…” “For now, you’ll die. She’ll be okay, Argyle; she’s old enough.” “She’s just a baby. She’s my baby.” Argyle whispered as his voice cracked. “She’s not any bigger than that little filly at the market.” “But twice as precocious, if anything you’ve told me about her is true,” Alphabittle countered, and rubbed his hoof over Argyle’s back as he huffed out a tearful sigh. “She’ll be alright. And you’ll be alright, too.” “But she doesn’t have somepony like you to protect her,” Argyle whispered, and looked up at him. “She’ll find somepony in time,” Alphabittle countered, and lowered his chin to press a kiss to Argyle’s lips. “You will find her again, and I will keep your heart safe until then.” “Thank you, Bittle,” Argyle whispered, and snuggled himself down into his grip, closing his eyes as he hid his face in his neck once more. As he got comfortable, he could feel Alphabittle’s mouth begin kissing a trail down his neck and onto his shoulder. “I love you.” “And I you.” Argyle sniffled softly. He was trying to be quiet, to keep the tears from ruining what should have been a romantic reunion, but it was pointless. “You remembered me.” Alphabittle reminded him softly, his nose whispering soft breaths at his nape. “Every day,” Argyle agreed, swallowing thickly. “Everything Sunny loves about unicorns is what I love about you.” Despite everything, Alphabittle smiled. “It is alright if you cry, Argyle.” “I should be happy to be back by your side,” Argyle insisted, but his voice cracked. He tried to muffle himself by hiding his face in Alphabittle’s neck again. “And I am. I am, I’m so happy. I don’t want you to think I’m not -” “I know,” Alphabittle whispered, and rubbed his back again. “It’s alright. I’ll make you some more hot chocolate when you’re done.” “Thank you, Bittle,” Argyle sniffled, and finally let the tears take him. The next day would dawn over Bridlewood, just as it did every day before and after. But in one corner in one specific forest in Equestria, the day would dawn just a little bit brighter, and Bridlewood became just a little less gray.
