We All Must Learn from Small Misfortune...
“I know a thing about lovers:
Lovers lie down in trust”
Rarity noted the heavy snowfall as she looked out the window. It was the end of the first full week of December, and snow wasn’t exactly unexpected. Still, she could feel a chill in the air that somehow seemed colder than previous years; the snow seeming imperceptibly heavier, the world looking that much more colorless.
Seated at the dinner table with a spread of documents before her as well as her trusty laptop, Rarity found herself humming a song from a few decades ago, one that she’d first heard the other day. She wasn’t sure why, but somehow the song was that worst kind of earworm, the one that felt familiarly comfortable despite being completely new. That feeling became even more awkward after she’d looked up the lyrics later that day and found that the song had references to infidelity, adultery and obsession, things that typically bothered the romantic in her. Ultimately, she figured that it was probably the haunting Spanish guitar line in the song that caught her attention. That, or the Australian lilt of the lead singer.
Although, admittedly, right now it was more likely because Chrysalis, who was spending the night over, had found the song so incredibly infectious, that by the time it had made a third run around on Rarity’s Spotify playlist, she’d memorized the lyrics and was singing along, and even (disturbingly, Rarity told her) sang along in a pitch-perfect imitation of the lead singer. Fortunately for her, Rarity, who was used to her own younger sister’s habit of round-robin-ing songs to death, put up with it.
“Chrysalis, dear, I want to thank you again for your assistance,” the older girl said – well, theoretically older in Chrysalis’ case, as she insisted that she’d recently turned fourteen and didn’t want to hear otherwise, or to quote her, “my mind’s made up, don’t confuse me with facts” – to the younger.
Currently over in the kitchen, baking cookies, Chrysalis smiled. “Well, I wanted to try this recipe that Cady said came from our grandmother. And to be honest, I’ve never tried making cantucci before, so I thought it’d be a nice thing to do.”
“Cantucci?”
“It’s a type of biscotti that’s a specialty of the area my family’s from. Smothered in chocolate chips and pistachios and then dipped in chocolate glaze.” She looked over at the double boiler, which had just started to steam. “Plus, I was hoping….”
Rarity saw the look on the teen’s face. “You were hoping that you could give the biscotti to my sister and her friends, didn’t you?”
The mention of sister and her friends made Chrysalis wilt slightly. “You know that Crackle won that trip for all her friends to go down to the Medieval Times down in Colton this weekend, right? She won the weekend of my birthday and she was going to tell everyone. Except I wasn’t told, because of that spell that Sunny cast.”
“We couldn’t risk it. You know that.”
Chrysalis wiped her eyes, not wanting to cry right now. “I know. I just….” She leaned against the counter. “I know that she did her best to erase the whole changeling incident and them seeing my, ahem, ‘condition’, but I don’t know if what happened was the best way to do it.”
“For what it’s worth, she doesn’t think so either,” Rarity agreed. “But we did have the issue to solve and not much time to do it in. And as much as Sweetie is my sister and you are my friend, it pains me to say that I would rather have her and the others at odds with you right now than to have you – and possibly all of us – in some Federal research facility in Nevada, if not worse.”
“Is there anything actually in Nevada? Besides Vegas, I mean.”
“Well, some military facilities and a lot of desert. There’s also Reno and Cloudsdale, but one’s pretty much mini-Vegas, and the other’s on the opposite end of the state, by the Utah border. But I suspect you’re dodging the issue.”
“Dodging like I’m playing Dance Dance Revolution,” Chrysalis responded. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, Rarity: You all are my friends, but you’re not the same age group as me. And I know people at school are saying behind my back that you’re all taking pity on me because I can’t find anyone my age to be friends with.” For a second, it seemed as if the teen wanted to say more, but she instead just clammed up.
“It was that or completely remove their memories and Sunset didn’t want to go that far. Furthermore, she is doing her best to try to sort things out,” Rarity assured her.
"I know, and I don’t blame her at all. But is it wrong to say I miss my friends?”
Rarity chose not to answer that one; she was concerned that anything else might open further emotional wounds. As it was, she had to bite her tongue to keep herself from pointing out that Chrysalis herself was the one pushing them away. “In any case, I don’t know if I said this before, but I truly do appreciate you making the extra effort to help me with my report.”
“It’s nothing, really,” Chrysalis replied, taking the non-response as a hint. “It sounds interesting doing a historical report while wearing a period outfit, but you hardly needed me for this, right? I mean, you can probably Google up everything you need in five minutes, or in a pinch just head down to the library.”
“I felt it would be best to have someone with an accurate eye towards what it really looked like rather than just pictures and historical documents. I don’t mean to be indelicate about it, Chrysalis, dear, but you did live through that time period, after all.”
“No offense, but I try not to think about that part of my life anymore. It’s been so long since I was Crisalide della Lucca that she almost feels like a separate person – I barely remember anything from that time as is and when Sunny and Tavi took me to the exhibit to see stuff I previously owned, the items there didn’t feel like things that used to be mine, but instead things that used to belong to some woman who lived centuries ago – like the artifacts everyone else thought they were. The fact that the historical figure in question was me feels coincidental.”
“That bad?”
“Let’s put it this way: because of everything that’s happened to me, I really don’t look like the historical portrait that was painted of me back then anymore. While my face is still the same, my eyes are different now because of magic and trauma, and I keep my hair coloration and style different as well, not to mention that I’m also slightly physically older now and have a more modern bodyframe.”
“I don’t get what you mean.”
“The me back then would be wildly jealous of my cleavage now,” was all Chrysalis said about that. “In any case, yes, while I still legally go by that name, no one calls me that anymore. Plus, Crisalide lived in a period of wimples, camoras and all those fun torture devices women called fashion back in those days, and frankly, I like my hoodies and jeans.”
“Wimples?” Rarity asked, surprised.
“Yes, the life of a Tuscan noble was not one of high fashion by our standards, I’m afraid,” Chrysalis laughed. “Trust me, better the wimple than the cornette. The latter was so ornately folded, it made your head look like one giant fucking polygon.”
“I…see.”
“Yeah. Perfect for a night out with the doge, but laughable by modern standards. Also, you can’t get them at Hot Topic, thank God.” Her phone chirped and she reached into her hoodie pocket for it. “And that was Dagi,” Chrysalis said after idly glancing at her phone. “She says she’s stuck in traffic but should be here soon.”
“I’m still glad she was able to make it; she needs the time off, given everything the SIRENs have been doing as of late,” Rarity replied.
The teen shook her head in dismay. “No argument; between having to deal with the ATG, her own day job, her duties as a SIREN and her normal school life, she makes me look like a slacker when I was queen of the changelings.”
“I think that older sister vibe that both Sunset and Cadance have has been rubbing off on her, or so Twilight tells me,” Rarity replied.
“Wish I could really remember what that was like,” Chrysalis said sadly.
Rarity caught that note; it seemed to be a different shade of guilt than the feelings the younger teen was having regarding her estranged circle of friends. “I hope I didn’t say anything amiss.”
“No, you just reminded me of my older brother Giovanni, is all,” Chrysalis replied. “I loved him dearly, but because he was both the heir to the house and working towards his own knighthood, he really didn’t have much time for me. But whatever little time he could spare, he always did, and so when I had a problem at home, I always turned to Gio for help.” The look on the younger teen’s face grew dark. “Who else could I turn to, after all? My mother was little more than the typical Tuscan noblewoman, barely educated and without much control in her life. And Father was too busy looking for an advantageous marriage for me to improve his prospects – hence why I ended up getting hitched to a freakstick bishop a decade older than me just barely after I’d had my first period. I sure as hell couldn’t turn to my governess; she was probably having an affair with my father, given the time period.” She checked the oven once more, looking at the cantucci. “The only one that ever really cared about me as me was Gio.”
“Did…did you ever find out what happened to him?” Rarity asked her.
“More like did he ever find out what happened to me,” Chrysalis said, sotto voce, wrapping her arms around her, clearly uncomfortable.
“You don’t have to—”
“I do. I talked to my parents about it and Mom said I should confide in my friends and you’re obviously one of those. Ari had one of her friends dig up the information for me and…Gio spent the rest of his life regretting not opposing my marriage. It became especially egregious after the murder rumors came out and Bruyere took my place practically out of nowhere. My brother pretty much hounded Baldassare, but that asshole’s connections in the Cavalcanti household combined with his bishopric pretty much made the bastard untouchable, and almost cost Gio his noble title when my father passed on.” Chrysalis was silent for a few seconds before continuing. “Afterwards, Gio even went so far as to name his first daughter after me, but she died of the pox in her childhood, which I guess was the start of the old Italian myth that the name Crisalide is cursed. In any case, he and his wives – he remarried after the first one died in childbirth with their fourth child – had seven children, four of which made it to adulthood.”
“Descendants?”
“From what I read, their line still continues to this day: in fact, the current mayor of Rome is descended from Gio’s second son and thus my great-great-times-whatever-nephew.”
“Well, that’s something, isn’t it? Your biological family still exists, if you ever wish to make contact again.”
“Why would I? How could I? ‘Ciao, I’m your great-great-times-whatever-aunt, having survived for centuries as a monster in another dimension!’ That doesn’t usually go well at family reunions.” A wistful look came over the girl’s face. “I just wish my brother could know that I’m in a better place now. He was against the marriage our father shackled me to with Baldassare, but even he couldn’t say anything against it and the aftermath cost him so much. I’m just glad he never knew the hell I went through because that probably would have shattered him.”
Rarity had known enough drama in her life to know where this was going. Reaching over to give the younger girl a hug, she said, “But you are in a better place now, right?”
“Yeah, definitely.” Chrysalis looked at Rarity and smiled. “Just…take it from me…as a kid sister, we love being adored by our older siblings, especially when we know that we’re loved by them and they’d do anything for us. And even though I’m just an only child of my current parents, I still remember times when I was just my older brother’s cherished little sister.”
The doorbell rang, breaking the moment. “Good, she’s here,” Rarity said with a smile, crossing the house before arriving at the door and addressing the newcomer. “Well, glad you could make it.”
“Glad I could be here,” Adagio said, carrying a bag in one hand and dragging behind some luggage in the other. “It’s not often I get a day off my busy schedule, and I figured if I’ve got a free weekend, I may as well milk it for all it’s worth. Plus, thankfully, I’m not alone.” The girl gestured to the teen behind her.
Rarity smiled. “Blossomforth! So glad you could make it!”
“Believe me, so am I.” Blossomforth looked completely haggard for her age, but given everything that had happened to her, it was more than understandable. “Thankfully my parents thought I needed a break to hang with people my age instead of taking care of my daughter or dealing with the CHS Teen Mom Group and this report gives me a chance.”
“I’ve…heard some of the drama that’s popped up there as of late,” Rarity noted. “You have my sympathies.”
“Well, Vice Principal Neighsay is heavily in favor of disbanding the group, because he thinks it’s detrimental to the school’s image. It doesn’t help that while most of the girls in there were ones like me that got into bad situations, there are a few overly proud ‘babymamas’ like Honey Pot that don’t care they have three kids and pretty much no chance of graduating or providing a future for their kids.”
“I’ll ask Sunset to speak to Principal Luna about it,” Rarity offered.
“I can talk to my aunt about it as well,” Chrysalis spoke up. “My mom set that program up and even though she’s not there anymore, it’s still important to her.”
“Thanks, girls, but I can’t rely on you both or Sunny all the time,” Blossomforth said. “I have to stand up for myself, if only because I need to learn to do that as an adult. I just wish I could get some support in that group to help. I mean, Sweet Notions wants the same thing I do, but given her situation she’s afraid as hell to speak up about anything.”
“Well, if I can suggest,” Adagio said as she moved over to the kitchen, “maybe put it out of your mind and relax this weekend. It’s a girls’ weekend out, right, Rares?”
“Oh, certainly it’s a shame that I’ve got the house to myself this weekend,” Rarity said in a way that indicated that no, it wasn’t a shame. “Plus, with my sister in Colton this weekend and my parents off on a romantic getaway for themselves, I think I can deal with spending time alone with some friends.”
“Oh, so your parents finally decided to get out of town?” Adagio asked. “I know last time I was here your mom joked that they never go anywhere.”
“They’re in Horseshoe Bay this weekend. And from what I gathered, Dad’s got quite the adventure planned for them. It’ll probably be a weekend they’ll never forget!”
The punch was enough to send Hondo slamming backwards onto the table behind him, ruining another couple’s lunch as well. Even though he hadn’t been a football player for years, his regular exposure to them as part of his job as a sportswriter pretty much required that he still kept himself in tip-top shape, so he still kept much of his big and bulky frame from that time period and as a result, it took a lot to drop him.
So as he tried to scrape what was left of his dignity up as he got off the broken glass-and-wood remains of the table he’d collided against, as well as trying to casually ignore the bowl of tortilla soup dripping its contents onto his head, he was struck with two feelings at once: the awe of having been waylaid in a single punch, and the fact that he knew he was in deep, deep shit.
As he finally took the bowl off his head, still somewhat in a situational daze, he looked at his assailant and the rage brought before him. I deserve this, he said silently. I didn’t want this, but I—
Any further thought was suddenly cut off by the explosive sensation he felt between his legs, as he now had to deal with a sudden kick to that painful location. This time was enough to send him completely to the ground, crashing into what vaguely smelled like molé. He’d never been a particular fan of that Mexican sauce despite loving Mexican food and with what was going on now, he was going to like it even less.
“You bastard,” a voice hissed from above. A voice filled with fury – worse, justifiable fury.
Hondo forced himself back to his feet once more and looked at his assailant: his wife, Cookie Crumbles, star journalist and, like him, somewhat of a local celebrity in Canterlot. Typically, between the two of them, they reported on the news in the Canterlot metro area. Needless to say, it was a good thing they’d decided to spend the weekend over in Horseshoe Bay, or else they’d be the news right now – never a good thing in their occupation.
“How could you do this to me?” she said, her voice a leonine roar without so much as raising her voice. “To our daughters? To our marriage?”
Hondo sighed; what could he say?
“Answer me, damn you!”
“Cookie, I—”
“No. I’m not doing this here. Not here, not….” Ever the journalist, she made it clear that she wasn’t going to end up on the gossip rags of the social pages for whatever passed for the local newspaper here in Horseshoe Bay. She stomped out of the restaurant and didn’t bother to look to see if he’d bothered to follow her.
The man whose meal had just been ruined looked at him and said, “I guess you seriously fucked up, didn’t you?”
Hondo sighed and shook his head. “Like you wouldn’t believe,” he muttered. He looked at the waiter and said, “Put the table, our meal and their meal on my hotel tab. Room 608,” he said as he raced out of the restaurant, stained clothing and all, in the hopes of finding his wife. He had to straighten this out, for a million reasons, not the least of which was that he loved her.
But as he reached the lobby, he knew that she was gone, and where he didn’t know.
He could only hope that gone didn’t mean gone.
Because if that was the case…he sure as hell deserved that, too.
As the snow fell in drifts, Chrysalis fell back down on the couch after a long day of homework, baking and watching movies before it was Adagio’s turn to commandeer the kitchen. The triplet had done so with gusto, making a feast of Indian dishes that had the four girls in postprandial bliss by the end of it all.
“I think I could eat lamb korma all day,” Blossomforth said with a satisfied grin and patting her belly.
“I’ll give you the recipe if you want it,” Adagio said, also collapsed on the loveseat. “I’m just glad the garlic naan turned out better than expected.”
“I’d appreciate that. I’m always willing to experiment with it, and since I don’t get much time to speak to that one girl at work – Garden Variety – I can’t always get things from her.”
“I just think that I’m lucky you and Chrysalis are doing the cooking this weekend,” Rarity teased. “I’m probably going to get fat from all this. Happy as can be, but fat nonetheless.”
“Well, I can at least work it off,” Adagio said with a grin. “Thankfully my workouts should take care of that in short order.”
“Wish I could be so lucky,” Chrysalis lied, knowing very well she could just transmute it into nonexistence or that it would get consumed during one of her transformations.
“You’re a twig, Chrys – calories mean nothing to you.”
“Lucky her; some of us have baby fat that has to be worked off,” Blossomforth groaned. “Well, I suppose I should earn my pay,” she said, standing up. “I’m ready to be your model, Rares. But are you sure this is going to be okay?”
“I’ll make my outfit for the report later,” Rarity assured her; Chrysalis had agreed to turn herself briefly into a mirror image of Rarity so the latter could get accurate measurements. “But I must admit, I do appreciate that you’re willing to do this report with me, Blossomforth, dear.”
“I thought it would be fun to dress in costume for a historical report. I’m just surprised that you found someone to do a period-accurate outfit with.”
Chrysalis faked a blush. “I, uh, did some research on Crisalide della Lucca at ECMAH before the Cavalcanti exhibition left town. And since she’s from the same town I was born in, I guess it was just natural.”
“Oh, I remember going to that when the exhibition first arrived back in March,” Blossomforth said, pulling out her phone to look up some stuff about it while Rarity got up to take her measurements. “I wonder if it’s true that she was murdered by her husband. The part about her being sold to an evil black unicorn so her husband could get magic certainly can’t be.”
“Yeah, no way in hell is that factual,” Chrysalis deadpanned.
Blossomforth looked at the image on the screen, then to the teenager plopped on the couch. “Uh, did anyone ever tell you that you look like her?”
“Probably a doppelganger issue,” Adagio said quickly to spare Chrysalis any headaches. “After all, my cousin just had to meet her own long-lost twin sister this past summer, if you recall.”
“Yeah, there seems to be a lot of that going on lately, weirdly enough,” Blossomforth said. “Sunny and her same-named twin, Bon-Bon and that porn star in Hong Kong. I even know a girl at my church that swears there’s a girl that goes to Darkside High that has the same looks and name as her cousin in Victoria – that’s Canada, if I recall correctly. Plus, Embiggen isn’t apparently the most common name there is.”
Rarity, Chrysalis and Adagio quickly shared an uncomfortable look, but said nothing further.
Thinking an unspoken apology to Rarity, Adagio decided to change the subject slightly before it got uncomfortable. “She’s not the only one. My cousins back home in Canada swear they saw me in Seattle last month when I’ve never been there. Plus, there’s the girl that Shimmy told Sunny she ran into during a weekend in Belgium….”
Rarity’s eyes narrowed in sudden anger. “Adagio Dazzle, you did not just—”
Chrysalis, understanding what was going on, took that ball and ran with it. “Oh, that one! Yeah, I remember Tavi telling me about it. Teenage prostitute or something. Spitting image of Rarity and everything.”
“I cannot believe you’re bringing this up!” the fashionista said, drama mode kicking in.
“Good job, Chrys. You just set off Mt. Rarity,” Adagio cracked.
“Hey, you set off the volcano,” the physically younger girl said with a grin. “Not my fault I just added to the blast radius.”
Blossomforth was understandably confused. “Did I miss something?”
“Just the dying embers of my dignity,” Rarity sighed. “I just have to accept that my own doppelganger is a call girl in Belgium, just as Bon-Bon has an, er, adult film star that lives in Hong Kong as hers. We all cannot be as fortunate as Sunset where our earthly copies are as well-heeled as Shimmer is.”
“Well, I would hope that if by any chance you ever meet the girl that there’s a good explanation for why she does what she does,” Adagio said. “I mean, if I were in your shoes and I ended up finding out my doppelganger was a prosti, I would wonder why she would do that to herself.”
“Ladies, with all due respect, I hope to never find out,” Rarity said tartly. “And I’d rather never think about her at all. As it is, her existence vexes me worse than I’m sure Sunset’s did to Shimmer when the latter first found out.”
“And yet Shimmy now considers Sunny her sister,” Adagio pointed out. “So much so they talk all the time – you know that.”
“Well, I guarantee I will never be so ‘fortunate’, quote unquote, as to meet this girl,” Rarity said, crossing her arms in annoyance.
“And you just had to invoke the Law of Resistentialism,” Adagio said with a smirk. “You’d think that after everything we’ve been through at this point, we’d learn to stop doing that.”
“Yeah, but we wouldn’t be friends if we did, would we?” Chrysalis asked.
“Let’s just say that I’m glad my aunt is a child psychologist. Comes in handy more times than I’d like to admit.”
He leaned against the railing of the boardwalk, staring into the dark waters of Horseshoe Bay and mostly ignoring the snow falling around him. He had gone back to the room and found, to no surprise, that her luggage was already gone. He then tried to call her but her phone was off. Fortunately, he still had the keys to the car, but his wife wasn’t an idiot – it wouldn’t be hard for her to arrange transportation back to Canterlot.
And speaking of which, what then? He’d known enough divorcees to know that it was a messy and brutal process. And he was pretty sure that his two daughters with Cookie would probably be angry with him for quite a while. He’d have to deal with this mess, but it would cost him a lot – not just in money, but reputation and getting used to the single life again, something he wasn’t really looking forward to.
So now, he sat here in the snow, staring at the Pacific waters, wondering where he would go next and what was going to happen to him. But more than that, he wondered what would happen to those who he loved more than anything – his daughters and his wife…his family.
“Think standing here in the snow and freezing to death is going to get you any martyr points?” Cookie’s voice was sharp and cutting, but he’d known her long enough that he knew it didn’t hold an edge. She’d clearly calmed down…or at least had hidden her rage.
“I…thought you’d be gone,” he told her simply.
She walked forward and leaned against the railing as well. At least she’d been smarter; a coffee cup sat in her hands, steaming its contents out for him to smell. “No, I did what I’m trained to do – I’m a journalist and so I did some investigating…even if the topic of the story is my own husband.” She looked at him and the look in her blue eyes was both piercing and painful. “You didn’t hide it very well.”
“I wasn’t trying to hide it,” he said softly. “I just didn’t know how to—”
“Spare me the bullshit, okay? I’m not stupid – we’ve been together long enough that I know how jocks act. Even when I knew that you weren’t the kind of athlete that was the typical Grade-A asshole that so many of your fellow players were, I knew our life wasn’t going to be perfect. And when you went to Amsterdam to play in the NFL European League or whatever they called it, I was under no illusions that you wouldn’t get sweettalked into a trip or two to De Wallen. I hoped you wouldn’t, but you were chasing your ‘lost youth’ – and me and Rarity were thousands of miles away.”
“I never meant to hurt you, Cookie. You were thousands of miles away, and I was—”
“Don’t give me that ‘you were lonely’ shit. I was lonely as well, and I had to raise our daughter during that time. I wasn’t the one that was trying to chase years that I couldn’t get back, and I certainly didn’t have my eye on anyone else, because I thought our marriage meant something!” She angrily threw the coffee cup into the ocean, then glared at him in full. “And what you told me today, you had to be with this woman practically the entire time you were there – and then bailed on her without a second thought.” He opened his mouth to speak, but she shut it with, “So that makes two women you completely fucked over.”
She sighed. “There’s three reasons I’m here. The first is the obvious: if we didn’t have two daughters of our own, I swear I would just leave right now. I’m halfway tempted to take the car, go home, get the girls and tell them we’re going to be spending the holidays at my parents’ place while I figure out how to explain this to them.”
“I should be the one to explain, not you.”
“You’re damn right you have to be the one to explain. And you’d better tell them, just as you told me, why you had an affair.”
“Cookie, I…I’m not going to make this any worse than it is,” he said, his voice cracking. “I know I fucked things up. I could say that I was lonely and you couldn’t move because of your job and Rarity. I could say that I was chasing my youth in a last desperate attempt to prove that I wasn’t the guy who had been practically forced to retire by the Stallions. And the Admirals offered me a chance, and so I took it.” He sighed. “I still wanted to prove I was Hondo Flanks, the best damn guard in the NFL. And it was enough to catch the attention of a particular fan.”
Cookie crossed her arms. “Oh, I can imagine,” she said crossly. “But our daughters deserve to know the truth, every sordid detail – if for no other reason than I wouldn’t want them to end up with men who would cheat on them. Which, of course, leads to the second point: we have daughters – and you clearly had a daughter with this other woman. And now she’s dead and the French authorities are trying to get a hold of you, which means that she has no one to turn to. So explain that.”
“It’s going to be a long story, Cookie,” he told her. “But you deserve to hear it.”
“Every single Goddamn word,” she insisted.
The next few minutes went by as Hondo told his wife everything he’d been informed of by the State Department’s Bureau of Consular Affairs, specifically the BCA’s Office of Childrens’ Affairs. Of his girlfriend’s ultimate fate, and that she’d had a daughter she’d raised, of what had happened to her and how her daughter – his daughter – had been swept up in the sordid hell that her mother had been subjected to.
When he’d reached the part that the BCA had notably been reluctant to inform him of, Cookie had already put two and two together, horrifically so. More endless minutes went by as he detailed the whole of what they’d told him about what his child had been subjected to at an age when she should have had many other avenues for her to choose – options that were removed from her life because of bastards who wanted yet another supple piece of flesh to toss towards their diabolical trade.
Finally, as he finished, he brought up a picture on his phone, passing it to her. “The agent in charge of the case sent me this picture two days ago. She’s currently staying with a foster family in France, but French and European laws require them to formally inquire if I would be willing to take her in, because…because I’m her father.”
Cookie looked at the image onscreen and her heart leapt into her throat. “And you’re sure of this?”
“My DNA was on record for some obscure reason I can’t remember,” he said honestly. “They matched it to within a 99% chance of accuracy. And while normally things like this take a lot longer, there were extenuating circumstances related to her safety that required the BCA to move the case urgently.”
Cookie looked at the girl again, fighting the maternal instincts in her against the obvious fact that this was not her child. “She…she looks just like Rarity. If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost say they’re twins.”
Hondo nodded, looking as though he’d been drained by the events of the night. “Yes. Apparently, that look runs in my family’s genes, given how much Rarity – and Seltenheit – look like my mother.”
“Seltenheit? That’s her name?”
“You probably won’t believe this, but her name is German for Rarity. It’s a complete coincidence, given that I didn’t know about her.”
“I should hope so.” Cookie looked at the girl’s picture once more, then at her husband. “And you said her mother’s dead?”
“Everything I told you is everything that they’ve told me.” He paused. “Including the part about how she was forced to become….” He buried his face in his hand, but she couldn’t tell if it was because he cared about his daughter, or because of the abuse of a young girl in general.
The two were quiet for the longest time, so much so that Hondo wasn’t sure what was going to happen next.
Finally, Cookie looked at him. “You know, it’s going to take me a long time to trust you again, Hondo.”
He nodded his head wearily. “I’m not worth it.”
Cookie’s mouth was an even line as she said, “That’s for me to decide – and for you to prove. But regardless, I have our daughters to think about. And….” She sighed. “This girl, if what they’re saying is true, needs a mother, too.”
“What?” He looked at her with shock. “How….”
“How could I, after all this?” She looked at him, her face filled with warring emotions. “That’s the third reason why I’m still here: Hondo, I love you…even if I am very hurt and feeling betrayed right now. But even if that wasn’t the case, we still have two daughters who won’t benefit from a broken home, and this Seltenheit girl has known nothing but that! I wouldn’t let Rarity live that kind of life and I wouldn’t let Sweetie Belle. Why should I let this poor girl, who has done nothing wrong, suffer the fate I wouldn’t wish on my own girls?”
That was enough for him. He let the tears fall. He didn’t deserve his wife, after all that he’d done to her and all she was about to do for him. He would make it up to her and regain her trust if it was the last thing he did in life.
Now, all he had to do was to tell his own daughters that they had another sister.
Author's Note
Well, this has been a story that we've wanted to tell for a while now, but we wanted to make sure that we did it right. So we've been sitting on it and researching while working on other projects. Every bit of this is a labor of love and we hope it shows. We also held off on it until Christmas, because it ties into it and because we wanted to give the fans a gift for their patience.
~~And don't mind the temporary cover; I'm working on something that I hope will be suitably eye-catching.~~ New cover is up! Hope you like!
Walk in the Waves, Never Fall
Covered by the snows of late autumn sat a wealthy house in the famed 16th Arrondissement of Paris, the bastion of the rich and powerful. An ancient and well-tended country manor, its acres were blanketed in pristine white, the whole of the grounds glistening slightly from the moonlight. In a few hours, the sun would rise, signaling another day in the French nation as it moved more towards the holidays. Certainly the house, bedecked with bunting and candles, pine cones and all the signs of Christmas, was meant to embody the joyous spirit of the Yuletide; certainly the home’s owners, Prince Noblesse Oblige and his wife, Séduire, the couple that were the Heir-in-Pretense to the Throne of the Empire of France, were no strangers to it.
But what was going on in the wee hours of the day, belied said holiday joy: the manor was alive with action, unnaturally so for this time of the day. Noblesse, dapper despite being up at an unreasonable hour, sat on the couch, his attention poring over various documents. His long blonde hair was tied back in a simple ponytail, draped over his shoulder and giving him a scholarly, studious appearance. He said nothing as his eyes traced over the various forms set before him, his attention razor-focused with the intent of a man long familiar with poring over mountains of paperwork.
Meanwhile, his wife Séduire looked more like how she felt: though the princess and former actress looked impeccable as always, her long sea-green and turquoise hair and fair skin were as beautiful and alluring as her name. But her coral eyes were red from unshed tears and her hands were shaking as she took another drag from her cigarette.
«J’avais encore espéré que cela n’arriverait pas,» she said sadly as she focused her attention on the Christmas tree and the gifts underneath them. Now, it felt there was very little to celebrate. «Que nous pourrions lui donner une maison.»
Seated across from them, also smoking, a man with wavy blond hair and cerise eyes looked at her. He opened his mouth to say something, then shook his head, chuckling. “I swear, after all this time, I still can’t understand Froggie. Soli’s given me tons of shit for that, especially since it’s high past time that I probably should have learned it.”
Noblesse laughed, clearly a needed balm for the current tension in the room. “Zephyr, you’re an idiot, you know that?”
Zephyr Breeze leaned back on the couch. “At least your sister loves me.”
The trio were currently discussing matters of import related to them: both Noblesse and Séduire had been involved in the periphery of a case that was tied to several members of the Belgian government. Furthermore, as head of security for the House of Bonaparte as well as the husband of Noblesse’s sister Solaire, Zephyr naturally needed to get involved as well. It had been a messy situation and one that the Belgian crown had been loath to make public, but thankfully in the end it had been dealt with rather swiftly. However, one last issue needed to be wrapped up, one that gave Séduire notable grief and one that both Noblesse and Zephyr would have rather avoided for her sake.
And yet it had to be done, the joy of the holiday season be damned.
Knowing her brother-in-law was a loss at French, she said in English, “And you’re sure of this?”
Zephyr set his own cigarette down, then reached for a coffee cup that had been filled by staff just a few seconds ago. “My contact at the Embassy called me yesterday to confirm, and an hour ago they sent a courier over – they said it was too important to wait for working hours. And since they arrived at a ridiculous hour of the day, I felt the least I could do was treat it with enough importance to get my ass out of bed and come straight over.” He reached into a coat pocket and pulled out a dark blue square. “You know what this is.” He set the item down on the table before her.
The item was there, undeniable by the princess: a passport bearing the symbol and markings of the United States. That was enough for Séduire. She got up and tried to leave the room elegantly, but instead sobbed and nearly bolted.
“I knew she was going to take it hard, but not this bad,” Zephyr said apologetically.
“You know we’ve always wanted children, but it never really worked out for us,” the prince said glumly, “and the wound just got deeper since you and Soli have been trying for a child of your own, especially with your children and my sister’s daughter living with you as well.” He then looked at the Christmas tree, and he wondered if Séduire had the same contemplations while doing so. «Mettre la charrue avant les bœufs.»
“‘Cart before the horse’. Okay, I got that one.”
“See?” Noblesse said, flashing a grin. “You’re not entirely hopeless.”
Zephyr mock bowed. “I do try.”
“Regardless, Zephyr, you are correct: Sédi had hoped beyond hope that this moment wouldn’t happen. Plus, you know how…difficult…it is to adopt in France, even for those of us with means and status. But I would be lying if I said I prayed this moment would never occur.”
“Yeah, I can imagine. After all this is over, I’ll hit up my connections Stateside. Many of them owe me some serious favors, one that I’ll have no problems weighing in on. Regardless, that’s not going to apply to the situation at hand, in this case.”
“I know. Once this is done, maybe these halls will fill with laughter once more.”
Zephyr gave his brother-in-law a wan smile. “Anyone deserves it, it’s you and Sédi.”
A Few minutes later, Séduire returned, followed closely by the maid that was up this early simply because the prince and princess were. But they weren’t the only ones: trailing close behind like a ghost on the haunt, was a girl in a modest sweater and jeans. She yawned and adjusted her glasses, then curtseyed as per protocol. «Bonjour, Votre Altesse, M. Breeze,» she said softly, almost as if to utter the words louder would be to engrave this point of reality into permanence.
Despite it all, the princess grinned. “Even she can speak French, Zephyr. What is your excuse?”
“Hey, I’m from America, where we only care about Spanish and sometimes not even then,” he said with a laugh. “Oh, and I should point out I’m not the only American here.” He held up the passport. “It’s been confirmed and approved.”
All eyes in the room fell on the girl, who suddenly felt very nervous. She looked at the passport as if it was a train’s third rail; in hindsight, touching one of those might be a little safer.
“Does that mean…?” she asked, unable to complete her sentence.
He nodded. “They found your father. I don’t know all the details, admittedly, but it seems he lives with his family on the West Coast. The BCA discussed it with him, and he would like you to come live with them.”
The girl looked up at Séduire, then at Noblesse, and then finally at Zephyr. She suddenly felt very alone and afraid, as if the rug had been pulled out from under her once again. She’d been living here for the past few months under the care of Noblesse and Séduire and had dared to hope she’d finally found a home and a life to call her own. But now all of that was being cast aside and she was being shipped off into the unknown, with uncaring bureaucrats throwing her dreams all away in order to fill some political administrivia or minutiae. In many ways, it was worse than when she found out her mother had died and to cover her funeral costs she would have to pay those with her body. Back then, she’d been young and innocent, ripe for being abused. Now, she knew the truth and was no longer jaded about such things, and yet the child in her still had hoped that once, just once….
Instinctively, Séduire embraced the girl. “You are very brave for enduring this, mon petite. It would have broken someone not as strong as you, but you have persevered.”
Noblesse nodded. “I know you are courageous enough to face this. You have faced so much and you are not at fault for what they did to you. The fact that you have recovered from that and moved forward is a testament to your strength.”
Zephyr looked at her, and seemed to be thoughtful for a moment before he weighed in. Smiling, he added, “Y’know, you remind me of my kid sister, Fluttershy. I remember when I was just a college student, and she was this tiny rug runner – knee-high to a grasshopper and all of that. I took her to Six Flags for the weekend because I didn’t get to see her enough. And she freaked out – six-year-old kid in Atlanta; you’d think she’d’ve seen it all! But no, she freaked and didn’t want to get on some of the rides. I had to tell her then that she needed to be brave, because if she wasn’t, well….” He took a drag from his cigarette, then continued. “There’s an old saying: you get over the regrets for the things that you did in time. But the things that you don’t do? You never get over that and they’ll haunt you forever.
“Kid, I know you’re scared, and frankly, you have every right to be. You grew up without a father, and while your mother did what I’m sure was her best, her lifestyle took her away from you. And worse, the guy that your mother got to promise that he would look after you instead threw you to the wolves and nearly ruined your life, hurting you in ways that I know it’ll take a long time to recover from. And now, after having some semblance of normalcy, a situation where you can actually breathe and start to finally call your life your own, your father, some stranger whose genes you share and who you know nothing of except for through your mother’s stories, is taking it all away.” Zephyr nodded in sympathy. “I get that, I really do. And having watched Shimmy and my kids accept you and the friends you’ve made in the short time, it’s made you feel human again, and you’re now afraid that this will all set you back to square one, if not make things worse.
“But I also know this: somewhere out there is a man who didn’t even know he had a child with your mother – she never told him. And apparently he’s married and has a life already; the agent I talked to mentioned a family. Or maybe he’s divorced or has a partner or whatever – I don’t know the details. But here’s the angle: as a father myself, I know I would never be able to look myself in the eye if I had a daughter I didn’t know about and I wasn’t able to reach out to her, especially when she needed me. What could I say to my other children? To my wife? What kind of person would that make me? I’m sure your father’s asking those questions now. From what you told me, your mother remembered him fondly, which meant they loved each other. The way I see it, that probably means that if he knew about you, he would have loved you from day one and would have never let you suffer the way you did. As it is, he’s willing to take a chance, because you need him…and probably, because he needs you as well.
“I know you’re afraid, that you’re comfortable here with Nob and Sédi, and they would be happy to have you stay; hell, we all would, if you want to know the truth. But there will always be something missing if you don’t go and you may never be the girl that you need to be as a result. You’ll be someone else, and while that isn’t a bad thing, there might always be a hole in your heart because of an unanswered question.” He gave her a smile. “Only you can make the choice, but ultimately, you have to make one.”
The girl looked at the three adults, and then the place she’d called home for the past couple of months. A few months before that, she’d been a well-kept, if underage, mistress for an influential Belgian politician. Before that, she’d lived in a peaceful poverty with her mother in the Der Wallen district of Amsterdam, listening to her mother’s stories about how the girl’s father had been a “big shot American football player” and someday he would come for them.
He never came for her mother…but if what Zephyr was saying was the truth, her father had never known until now. And now that she needed a home…he was opening up one for her.
Now…she would find out.
Seltenheit wiped her eyes, warding away tears easily – something that came all too easy for her, given everything in her life. “I’ll do it,” she said, her voice half-intrigued, half-resigned.
Sometime later, there was a knock on her bedroom door and a familiar face poked her head in. «Je suis venu voir comment tu vas.»
Seltenheit looked up and brightened at the sight of her visitor: the girl that had been both benefactor and savior. It had been Sunset Shimmer that had helped her when she had no one else to turn to, and truth be told, Seltenheit adored Shimmer and her older twin sister for what they had done for her. If she had to admit it, Seltenheit probably had a slight crush on the older girl, but it never went past ardor. Besides, Seltenheit herself had more than enough of having to “experience” clients of her own gender; while she was heterosexual, if she was ever going to “cross the fence” of her own accord, the person had to be worth it.
“Hello, Shimmy,” Seltenheit said in English, setting down the book she’d been reading.
“Guess you’re switching to English because you’ll be using it more often?” Shimmer asked as she came over and sat down on the bed next to the younger girl. “You okay?”
“No, no I’m not. I’m afraid. I…I like living here with your aunt and uncle and everyone. And now, I’ll be seeing a man I’ve never met before, whose only existence I know of because my mum used to tell me stories she believed in but sound like they’re made-up in hindsight.”
Shimmer grinned. “Like a princess of a French dynasty that also just happens to be a typical American high school girl?”
The violette blinked. “I…never thought about it that way,” she admitted.
“That’s what I deal with every day, Selty. My friends know that I’m Princess Sunset Shimmer, but they also know that to them, I’m just Shimmy. Trust me, if you’re worried about what your father thinks of you just because of what you had to go through to survive? It doesn’t matter. You’re not some girl that all that happened to, you’re Selty. And while I get your concerns, apparently he doesn’t have them, because he could have always declined to meet you but instead, he’s offering you a home.”
“But I’ll be alone if I go!”
“No, you won’t. You’ll make friends and have someone by your side, always. And if worst comes to and you’re ever in trouble, remember: my sister lives in the US, on the West Coast, no less. And if you trust me and think I’ll always be there for you, Sunny’s even better at it than I am. I guarantee she’ll be in your corner if you need someone.”
“Really?”
Shimmer nodded. “It’s like magic how she does it,” the girl said with a soft laugh. “Plus, I have it on good authority you’ll be fine, if for no other reason than your accent – guys dig girls with accents. Granted, I don’t have one since I go to the American section of my school, but when I went to San Francisco with my cousin, I briefly faked a French one and had more than a few guys looking my way.” Shimmer reached over and hugged Seltenheit. “You’ll be fine, I guarantee it.”
“I don’t understand: how can you be so sure?”
“Because I spent years thinking I was an only child and that my twin sister had been stillborn. And then one day – one magical day – I came across a girl who turned out to look just like me and have the same name and everything as me. And together we found out I wasn’t the surviving twin, but one of the two surviving triplets – and that the other surviving sister had been stolen from us at birth and our third sister had been stillborn.”
Strangely enough, unlike most of the other things that Shimmer had told Seltenheit, somehow there was an oddly pat feel to these words, as if they were said rote and fake rather than genuine and true. But Seltenheit had met Sunset and other people had confirmed their strange but true story. In many ways, it reminded Seltenheit of that old saying: The truth is stranger than fiction, because fiction has to at least make sense.
And yet somehow, Shimmer and her twin sister were perfectly fine despite everything they’d been through. Maybe – just maybe – so would Seltenheit herself.
“C’mon, let’s get going,” Shimmer told her. “We’ve got some shopping to do today.”
“We do?”
“I’m not sending my friend away without giving her a few presents aside from what’s under the tree already. And moreover, you’re not moving to America without looking like the darling European girl that you are, got that?”
It had been a long day – too long, Zephyr had to admit – and yet it didn’t seem like it was going to end anytime soon. Right now, he was on the phone with a BCA agent, and going over all the long, toiling details once more.
“Look, Agent…Outlook, right? Are you sure this is the best way of going about this?” Zephyr asked, his voice holding an edge of exasperation.
On the other end of the line, sounding tinny and with the telltale occasional pop of an overseas line, Agent Global Outlook, Bureau of Consular Affairs, noted. “You know the law, Mr. Breeze, given that you were once a Federal agent yourself. It has to start with an official phone call, so the child and the parent can have first contact and so the parent can work out with the authorities for the official turnover. As I understand it, Mr. Flanks has agreed to fly to Paris to meet the girl instead of in New York, as per the norm. He’s also agreed, if she so wishes, to meet in Amsterdam so she can say farewell to her mother’s grave if need be. He’s been very accommodating.”
Zephyr leaned back on the sofa and rubbed his head; he was getting a headache and needed a shot of whiskey, bad. “I’m sure he has. I just want to make sure this doesn’t go south.”
“Given his profile, none of us do. Granted, Flanks isn’t the biggest of celebrities out there, even during his prime in the NFL. But he’s got enough pull still that all it will take is the right story, the kind that will cause a shitstorm if, say, the Equestria Daily publishes a story about how his reunion with his child got fucked by international red tape. Because the next thing you know, that’ll be on the front page of the New York Times, the Paris dailies and the end result is that the media will have a field day.”
“Don’t remind me. Okay, set the call. It’s nine in the morning here right now, so it’s gotta be midnight there, if I recall. Make it for one in the afternoon your time and we’ll make sure things are ready to go on this end.”
“I’ll do that. You just do what you need to do, and I’ll do the same.”
“Yeah, you do that too.” Zephyr hung up the phone and slunk further into the couch. He was not looking forward to ripping Seltenheit out of the life she’d built here, nor was he sure that this was the right thing, but he knew as a father, he had to at least try to do the right thing. He’d surely enough made a mess of his career in the US government doing that, that was for sure.
“You don’t look happy.” Zephyr’s wife, Solaire, approached, carrying a cup of tea she’d clearly made for him. It was amazing how the princess seemed to be able to read his mind sometimes. While part of it was probably the way they clicked together naturally as couples did, part of him also wondered if maybe she’d picked it up as part of all that weirdness that occurred – or didn’t, depending on your view – back in Canterlot. He certainly knew the schoolteacher that was Solaire’s doppelganger seemed a bit otherworldly at times, or maybe Shimmer’s absolutely otherworldly twin had done so. Either answer was going to give him a migraine thinking about it, so he just opted to let it be.
“Honestly, Soli…I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing. I’m taking Selty away from your brother and sister-in-law and Sédi already loves that girl to pieces. They’d adopt her in an instant if they could and Selty wouldn’t have a problem with that. And yet…I can’t see myself doing that to another father, especially if he’s trying to reach out to her. He might not be the best for her, but he’s trying, and I can’t just deny that.” He shook his head in frustration. “Rock and a hard place – story of my life.”
“For what it’s worth, I know my brother thinks you’redoing the right thing sending her to the States,” Solaire told him as she handed him the cup. “You’re reuniting a family that needs to be together and given what you went through for your own children, you know that’s the right thing to do. But moreover, by moving her to California, you’re ensuring that she’ll be where she can be protected, and our own family will be less exposed to the risk that you seem so sure is coming our way.”
“I’d, uh, hoped you’d forgotten about that part,” he admitted.
“I assure you, living in this family, normalization of risk is a thing. You know that,” she said with a smile.
“Yeah. I just don’t think you understand what that girl was peripherally involved in – I know she doesn’t. Nob’s contacts in the Belgian government were eager to get her out of their hair and although he doesn’t know why, they told me and it has me very uncomfortable. And I know Selty’s just a bystander in all this. I just worry that if she goes Stateside and those that want her are willing to hunt her down, someone could get hurt.”
“If that’s the case, can’t you have the authorities there protect her and her family?”
“Probably, but if the Inlaatduiker want her dead or worse, they’re not going to care what some Podunk local police officer in the US says, regardless of whether or not American cops are better armed than most European soldiers. They’re going to go after her and if that’s the case, Seltenheit will only have one avenue of safety left, the kind that’s out of my hands.”
“The FBI?”
“No. I’m thinking more the kind that comes attached to a certain teenage girl that can snap a mushroom cloud into existence if she gets angry enough.”
“Merde.”
“Yeah.” He took the cup of tea and downed it in one gulp. It didn’t help in the least.
In a room in Vorst prison in the namesake municipality of Belgium, a lawyer met with his client. Juridische Status was one of the best solicitors in the nation and he had to be, given the caliber of clients his firm represented. And for now, the one that was at the top of his list was Plenaire Vergagering, the now-disgraced member of parliament that had recently been arrested and expelled from office for his involvement in a child sex ring. The fool even had his own teenaged mistress, who apparently when not entertaining him operated her “business” out of a flat that he owned in Bruges.
But enough of Status’ opinions; as he noted to himself, he had more than one client and it was for the sake of the other client that he was here right now. He had a job to do, and do it he would, regardless of whatever scumbags he had to deal with.
“I have it on good information,” he began, “that if you can provide a copy of the files that you had intended to give to your, ahem, ‘patron’, that they might be able to arrange for this to go away.”
“What, they think they got their hands around the king’s balls or something? I want proof.” Seated on a dull metal chair in a bright yellow set of coveralls, a fat, balding man sat, running a hand through thinning purple hair. “I was told that I was immune from prosecution and look at what happened!”
“No, you were told that you would be protected so long as you followed procedure. But you decided to get creative because you thought it would get you more profit and more…fun.” Status gestured to the concrete walls of the visitor room. “Instead, you ended up with this, a fall worthy of Icarus. Of course, that could change, if you were to pay attention this time.” Status leaned forward against the table. “We know you have those files in your possession, and while we have managed to recover the originals, a smart man like you obviously made backups. I also suspect that you would have a way of making sure that anyone that somehow managed to find said backup wouldn’t be able to use it unless you provided an assurance.”
Vergagering gave a lecherous grin. “So you do think on occasion.”
“Yes. And right now, I’m thinking that I am authorized by the organization to provide…guarantees for you, provided that the files are proffered, free and clear.” Status leaned back in his chair and adjusted his tie. “So, where are they?”
“Find me my whore,” Vergagering replied as he smiled with the look of someone who thought he held all the cards. That wasn’t the case, but best to let him think so, Status mused. “If you find that little purple-haired cunt, you’ll find part of the key. Not all, but part.”
“I truly doubt that’s the case. Given all the evidence she provided to the government, it’s not very likely.”
“Because she isn’t aware she has it. Bring her back to me and I’ll get you what you need. But in return…I want out of here. Give me a place where I can be left in peace, away from prying eyes.”
“I think that can be arranged.”
“And, of course, I’m going to need a replacement.”
Status adjusted his glasses. “A replacement?”
“For the bitch, of course. Because I’m going to splatter her brains against the nearest wall to get what you need. Honestly, I was going to kill her anyway for betraying me after everything I did for her.”
“I see,” Status said, looking at his phone before pocketing it once more. He then went over to the counter, where the police officer was and said something, then passed what appeared to be a sizeable stack of euros through the door. “Well, it is your lucky day, Minister, because the organization has been listening to everything through my phone—” He pulled it out briefly before putting it back once more, “—and they would like to make a goodwill gesture to entice you to keep your end of the bargain.”
Vergagering raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
In response, the entry door buzzed loudly and a young girl wearing a long coat came in. She looked no more than fourteen, with long hair, beige on one side and gray on the other, tied behind her with a large red bow. Her eyes were heterochromic dark gray and light gray, and she had the kind of smile on her face that indicated she knew exactly what she was here for and how to provide it.
“My name is Griotten,” she breathed, coming up close to him, “And I’m going to be everything you need.” She then removed her coat, revealing her young, topless body and the bottom half covered only by a very thin pair of tie-on underwear and stiletto boots.
“I think I’m going to like her,” Vergagering said to Status.
“She’s yours for the next four hours, so enjoy,” Status said blandly. “And if you provide what the organization needs, not only can you have her, you can also have the other one trained to your specifications.”
Vergagering leered at the girl, barely bothering to pay attention to anything else. “So these are the trained wives, eh? Heard about them but didn’t really believe they existed.”
“They’re decidedly an…Asian specialty, shall we say, but some clients have exacting tastes, and the organization must meet the needs of its clientele. Enjoy and tot de volgende keer.” With that, he walked out of the room and the thick metal door slammed closed with a thunk, leaving the two alone in there.
Griotten wrapped her arms around Vergagering’s neck. “I understand you had your own girl before. I promise you, she’s nowhere near as good as me.”
“Oh?” Vergagering could feel himself rise to the occasion, and this was only intensified when Griotten leaned up on her tiptoes and gave him a kiss, then planted kisses down his unshaven face. The young girl then took the tab of his jumpsuit’s zipper in her teeth, sliding down against his body, making sure he felt every bit of her curves even as she undressed him.
It was the last thing he felt before she immediately launched back upwards and slammed him with the palm of her fist, precisely at the base of his nose. His eyes suddenly rolled back and a dribble of blood poured out of his nostrils before he fell back, dead. As his corpse hit the ground and blood began to pool around his head in a gruesome halo, Griotten removed her underwear, then removed the wire knife that was hidden in it. She completely undressed him, then felt for a small mole around his groin. Cutting it open, she removed a small, bloody capsule from his flesh.
“Wow, high tech,” she mused to herself as if it were nothing, then looked down at him and smiled. “Too bad you’re not my type, you old fat fuck. But look at it this way: the last thing you ever got to see was my heavenly body against yours. That’s worth something on the way down to hell, isn’t it?”
With that, she then began to tear apart her coat and pull out the spare clothing she had hidden in there. Her job was over; no need for her to give the other prisoners a free show if they weren’t going to pay for it.
A few minutes later, she walked out of the prison and got into Status’ car. “Here you go. Right where you said it would be. How’d you know?”
Status signaled for her to put on her seatbelt, and she quickly did. As they drove away, he said, “The girl we’re after wasn’t the only one that Vergagering had on the side. We were able to locate a second girl, an Estonian girl in Reeperbahn. He got her pregnant and in return for giving her a ticket back home and enough money to support her child, she told us everything about the operation.” His mouth curled slightly in an approximation of a smirk. “Apparently, she wanted to be a doctor before she got tricked into sex slavery. Fortunately for her, the organization gave her enough money where she can actually attend medical school in her home country.”
“That’s nice; I don’t actually give a shit,” Griotten said. “So, where’s the rest of my money?”
“At my place, as agreed. I’ll give it to you there and afterwards you’re free to take this car and head off – the car isn’t registered in my name in any case.”
She looked him over. “Your house? Well, if you’re expecting anything else, it’s extra.”
“I don’t sleep with fourteen-year-olds. Unlike perverts like the one you just killed, I have standards,” Status said.
“What if I told you I’m not actually fourteen, but instead twenty-nine?”
He gave her a disbelieving look. “You’ll have to excuse me if I disbelieve that.”
“And if I said I was hundreds of years old?” she laughed.
“I’d rather believe you were twenty-nine, not that I believe that, either.”
“Can’t say I blame you, but it’s true.” She looked him over again and leaned back in the passenger seat. “Tell you what: since I’m bored, just give me the rest of the money I’m owed for the contract and in turn I’ll give you a night like you’ve never had before.”
“I’m sure you would. But personally, I prefer to wake up in the morning and as I gather from your contracts, those you show your wares to don’t get to see the next sunrise.”
“Oh, that’s business,” the girl said, smiling and though Status didn’t admit it, her rictus downright unnerved him – it was the look of a female mantis looking at a male, which never went well after mating. “Honestly, I don’t mix business and pleasure, but the minute I get my cash, business is over and funtime begins.”
“That’s an interesting way of looking at things.”
“Hey, I like to keep things simple. So, let’s go to your place, you get money in my hands and I get your body parts in mine, deal?”
The line crackled, and for several seconds was the only sound that could be heard before Seltenheit spoke to Hondo once more. “I would like to meet in Amsterdam, please. I want to see my mother one last time before I leave Europe for good. And I think you should say something as well.”
“Okay,” Hondo said, holding the phone and fighting the dry throat he had. At Cookie’s insistence, the call on their end had been on speakerphone, so she could hear everything. There would be no more secrets between them, she demanded, one he couldn’t – or wouldn’t – deny her.
“I will see you in one week. Ik kijk ernaar uit u te ontmoeten.”
There was a click on the other line and the State Department operator said, “The call on the other end has ended, Mr. Flanks. You may hang up now unless you wish me to transfer you to Agent Outlook’s line.”
“No, that will be all. Thank you for your time.” He pressed disconnect on his phone and then looked at Cookie. “Well, you heard everything.”
“Accent aside…her voice sounds very much like Rarity’s, and that’s already in addition to the fact that she looks like our daughter as well. There’s no doubt: this girl is your child, Hondo.”
“I need to arrange a flight to Amsterdam. And I need to figure out a way to tell the girls about all this.”
“We’ll get through this.” Cookie patted her husband on the shoulder. This morning, at breakfast, she’d told him flat out that while she still felt betrayed, she knew that she still loved him. That, combined with the fact that the infidelity happened so long ago, meant that she knew she wasn’t going to even consider separation, much less divorce. But it would be a while before she invited him back into her bed, and she would likely be using the guest room in their house for quite some time.
“You have more confidence than I do right now.”
“I don’t doubt that.” She paused in thought, pursing her lips as if biting the end of a pen, a journalistic habit she’d picked up somewhere and had never dropped. “Well, it’s late and I’m going back to my hotel room. We can have breakfast in the morning before we head back to Canterlot and figure out how we’re going to tell the girls. Let’s be honest: neither of them will take it well at all. Our daughters are drama queens – that comes from your side of the family, you know.”
“I know. I just….”
“You wished none of this happened?”
To her surprise, his eyes firmed up. “I can’t say that. If I did, that would mean I’d regret Seltenheit’s life, and even though I don’t know her…she’s my child. Saying that would be no different than saying that about Rarity or Sweetie. And as much as I’ve hurt you and our daughters, Cookie, I can’t deny Seltenheit’s existence. I just….” He swore underneath his breath. “I love you, Cookie. And I would take the pain back if I could, but I can’t deny Seltenheit. I don’t know what else I can say.”
“I know,” she said, smiling despite it all. “And maybe one day I can actually believe that again.” Nothing else to say, she left the room, headed towards her own hotel, at the location across the street.
