Inheritance

by Mica

Rating: teen
Tags: Drama, Sunny Starscout, Hitch Trailblazer, Argyle Starshine, My Little Pony: A New Generation, Profanity, Sex, Slice of Life
Length: 6350

Hitch may have a paid-off mortgage…but he isn’t the only young landowner in Mareitime Bay.

Hitch may have a paid-off mortgage…but he isn’t the only young landowner in Mareitime Bay.

Takes place at least a few years before the start of MLP A New Generation.

3/7/23--#1 on the Featured Box. Thank you everyone.

Published 2023-03-07 05:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2023-03-07 05:00:00 UTC

Sunny came home

Landowner

On the 3rd of December, 7:34 in the evening, Sunny Starscout, next-of-kin to Argyle Starshine, became a landowner at the young age of 19.

“Every princess needs a castle. This shall become yours.” Those were the instructions Argyle Starshine gave his daughter from the deathbed.

When the appropriate time for mourning passed—two months was written in the Earth Ponies’ Etiquette book, and that rule was followed to the hour—that was when Sunny got the calls. Calls after calls after calls. A full voicemail box that cramped Sunny’s hoof as it repeated the five steps to delete one message.

Are you sure you want to delete this?

Yes

Are you sure you want to delete this?

Yes

Are you sure you want to delete this?

Then came the visits. Knocks on her door.

“It’s a lovely stretch of beach frontage you got here, kid.”

“Amazing ocean views, huh. You wake up to this view out your window every day? Your friends at school must get jealous.” Sunny decided not to interject that Daddy homeschooled her all her life. “I’ll make you an offer. You ever hold 1.4 million in cash in yer hoof, kid? Take it or leave it.”

“Er…I…”

“Well, kid? What’s yer answer gonna be? Think of the 1.4 million.”

“You…you like the beach frontage?” is all she could say.

The agent chuckled. “What do you call the longest stretch of privately-owned undeveloped coastline within a mile of Mareitime Bay?”

She wanted to say “home”, but the agent quickly followed by saying, “The market’s hot now, kid, and my client’s in a great position—you aren’t gonna get a better offer than this, trust me.”

And that was just one Tuesday morning at 10:30.

Ten agents stopped by her door within a week, and not one of them complimented her spring cleaning after Daddy died.

Who could she call? Who did she even know to call? A lawyer perhaps? There was that lawyer from long ago who represented Daddy after he and Sunny trespassed on the Canterlogic Factory to protest the repossession of former unicorn lands to build a new distribution warehouse.

“Every princess needs a castle. This shall become yours…” He was lying on his deathbed half-conscious and on painkillers when he said that.

Sunny forgot to ask.

Daddy, is it okay if I sell the house after you die?

12 words. 4 seconds to say it.

Was it that hard for her to spare 4 seconds of sorrow just to ask her father such an important question?

She was selfish.

“I love you, Dad,” she selfishly whispered to herself, two months too late.

Fool

“I just hate you Dad,” Sunny cursed under her breath.

Two weeks and the grass was already overgrown.

Sunny awkwardly pushed the tractor mower along the lawn that seemed to stretch for miles and miles (though in reality, just an acre and a half). The pedal kept sticking, and she was 70 percent sure she put the wrong octane fuel in the tank. It would stay put for a second, then charge at full speed for another second. It created uneven little strips of grass across the whole lawn. If she squinted really hard, she could imagine she was mowing it in the shape of a face or perhaps a bunny. A very wriggly, disfigured bunny.

It was art. Avant-garde art. Art on her own private property—why, she was practically a seasoned wealthy landowner now! Drawing little eccentric follies in her private garden whenever she pleases? This was the life—

A puff of gasoline smoke blew into her face as she turned the mower against the coastal wind.

Was lawn mowing just an earth pony thing? Questions to ask a unicorn. Number 64: Do you have lawns? Number 65: If so, how do you keep them cut? Number 66: Does magic help keep the grass a certain fixed length so you don’t have to—

CLANG CLAK CLAK

A stick got trapped in the blade and the mower died.

“FUCK!” She yelled so loud, it echoed across the entire property, and possibly reaching her father up above.

“They want it so badly, they can just bulldoze it for all I care,” she muttered again. Dad had thrown away the manual; she found a close match online, but apparently the anti-jamming system, blade cleaning tool, among other features, were not included in the older C-2000 model.

She squinted her eyes in the blinding sun and gave the mower one more pass across the lawn, cutting all the grass short and destroying the art—except it was no art to begin with.

Maybe the townsponies were right. She and Daddy were just two fools.

Selfish

Even working full time at the age of 19, Sunny’s smoothie sales were all going towards paying her property taxes, food, and utilities. Plus endless papers that poured into her mailbox with amounts of money written on them—which were bills? And which were promotions? And which were scams? The slips of paper that looked like bills, she paid.

She needed a way to get additional income. Maybe she could rent out the place?

She put up posters all over Mareitime Bay. Rooms for rent in prime coastal location with beach frontage. For inquiries call Sunny Starscout 788-449x. Beach frontage; that’s what that real estate agent called it right? That must be what other ponies like.

Nopony responded to the advert for weeks, despite her slashing the rent twice. Sunny Starscout. Great rollerskater. Makes the best raspberry peach smoothie. That’s all the good the town had to say about her. Everypony knew her by name—that’s precisely why they didn’t want to live with her.

Sunny had one rental applicant—so-called rental applicant. She should have realized something was up when they arrived and didn’t even want to step through the front door. And Sunny had even spring cleaned and staged the best room in the lighthouse for the first applicant.

Honey Moonlight. Sugar Moonlight’s mother, the most bitter mare in town, probably sent on the town’s behalf for that precise reason.

“Sunny, I’ll save the pleasantries. I think I speak for all the townsponies when I say…you realize how stubborn you are, hmm? Selfishly clinging onto this landed property like a greedy child.”

“But I’m not. I’m offering you and everypony to come stay with me at the lighthouse—”

“We don’t want the lighthouse, we want the land! Who cares about this crummy tower that’s falling apart?”

Sunny held back tears—she thought she did a pretty good damn job with cutting the lawn yesterday. “You can’t tear it down. It-it’s a historic center of ancient Equestria. My dad’s research says that—”

“Oh grow up! It’s a disused lighthouse that’s taking up valuable real estate.”

“It’s going to be renewed one day. When we start making friends with all ponykind, magic will return, and Equestria will be the great nation it used to be.”

“When? Tomorrow?” As she tapped the wall of the lighthouse, another piece of paint chipped off. “Now you’re just making excuses. You know what we call ponies like you? ‘Not in my backyard.’ NIMBY. And an impertinent one at that. Foolishly preserving for the sake of preservation. You have all this land, while the rest of us common townsponies are cramped in little townhomes and apartments in the city center. I didn’t even have my own bedroom when I was 19!”

Sunny swallowed a lump. It wasn’t easy arguing with a pony twenty years older than her. Did Daddy have to deal with all these angry ponies at the door? She never knew. Or rather she, the selfish, spoiled, greedy little girl that she probably was, took her daddy so much for granted that she could live blissfully ignorant of any evil that ever existed.

“B-but I already said.” Sunny sighed. “I said you can come live with me. I have space for up to four other ponies, and I’m not even charging as much rent as the other room postings in the town square. We can all share this place and become friends—”

“Wipe your hooves!” She loudly declined Sunny’s offer of friendship. “I bet it’s covered in pegasus bird flu. Those nasty cheating feather-brain ponies have no sense of hygiene.” Talking about cheats, Canterlogic’s latest abomination was “Avian-Proof Hoof Sanitizer, guaranteed to work against pegasus-novel-dinosaur bird flu strain”, 20 Bits plus tax. (Rubbing alcohol with purple food coloring.) Daddy was lucky not to be alive to see it.

“Pegasi don’t carry bird flu. Who told you that?”

“Ocean Skipper. Quite a promising and bright young lad.”

Sunny’s face sunk. “You seriously trust a third-grader who’s failing in every subject except PE over me?”

“Face it, Sunny. You’re crazy. And now you’re alone in your little fantasy world. And always will be until you wake up to reality.”

As the door shut and the last echoes of the scolding faded, Sunny wanted to feel relieved.

Sunny was proud to be a landowner, absolutely. And being a landowner didn’t isolate her. It didn’t make her this lord high above the rest of the town. On the contrary! Why, she was just like any other regular pony. She wasn’t alone. Not at all, not even now. Not even in the silence of the empty lighthouse. Not even in the dead, stagnant, still—

silence—

An ocean gust rattled the old windows.

Sunny…she wasn’t alone. She had her father with her, okay? And the lonely landowner kept the picture frame upright and polished the glass and cleared it of dust every day.

Maybe

Maybe she could at least sell the clutter?

Sunny resolved to do that one weekend, buying some cardboard boxes from the post office. She would load the full boxes in her smoothie cart and take them to the consignment store in town.

She started with the stuff stored in the cellar. First was her old rollerskates, the ones that didn’t fit her anymore—Daddy taught her how to rollerskate in them. She was just six years old. Maybe six and a half. It was a warm summer’s day, in the mid-morning, just before the afternoon fogs rolled in…

And then that reminiscing took so long that it was already time for lunch. And so the packing only resumed after lunch, and her afternoon nap on the couch.

At the end of two weeks, she could not fill up all the boxes with stuff she was willing to give away—must have been more stuff than she had anticipated. And if she didn’t fill up enough boxes, it wouldn’t be worth it to make the trip all the way to the consignment store. And so it wasn’t worth it to give anything away, so she just took everything out of the half-full boxes, and put them back in their little nooks, where it was just before Daddy died. So that if maybe one day, his spirit were to return, he would maybe be able to recognize home just the way he left it.

Maybe.

And so she ended up with more clutter, with folded up cardboard boxes piling up unused in the corner.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Say that it’s too late to think about real life and just read a book about an Equestria from millenia ago that probably never actually existed, and the next morning it would still be maybe. One night she drank too much coffee and binged the entire two volumes of Princess Twilight’s Adventures before passing out and waking up at noon—and the grass seemed to grow another inch overnight.

She missed the time when Daddy would read it to her during bedtime, and he would decide where to stop and shut the book for her.

Maybe, maybe.

There were so many decisions. Too many decisions. Especially about time. And money. Big numbers. 20 thousand. 200 thousand. 2 million. 20 million.

She was 19 years old. That was one number she knew.

Makes Sense

Sunny took out the pan of burnt unicorn cupcakes after the smoke seeping out of the oven was making her cough.

The recipe wasn’t quite how she remembered it—there was nothing ever written down. There was no need to write anything down. When she was little, Daddy told her “add the eggs.” And then “add the sugar. No, just a little. Now that’s too much. Here, add some flour to make up for it.”

The only essential ingredient must have been Daddy.

The door opened. Sunny’s head shot up, almost as if expecting to see…

“Hey Sunny.” Hitch came in instead, bringing the last batch of painting supplies.

She turned to Hitch, who was washing up in the laundry sink. “Thanks for helping me repaint the front door, Hitch.” She gestured to the blackened cupcakes. “I’d offer you one, but I think these are too burnt. I don’t even wanna frost them.”

Hitch grabbed one from the muffin pan and took a bite. He politely put it back, one small morsel bitten out of it. “When was the last time you finished the hardwood?” he asked.

“I, erm…I don’t remember.”

“The floor’s in real bad shape, Sunny. You could get a splinter. The salt air here wreaks havoc on wood floors, you know, even inside. That’s why you need to lacquer it.”

“Oh sorry, I didn’t know that. Here…here’s some slippers. They were Dad’s but I think they’re about your size.” He slipped them on, they actually did fit him well.

Even though Hitch was only two years older than her, he seemed at least a decade more mature, especially in his “sheriff” voice. It was much more demanding, assertive compared to the voice she remembered when they were young. It was a voice she could trust. An honest voice. A voice made to keep Mareitime Bay out of trouble.

A voice to keep her out of trouble.

Sunny liked Hitch’s “sheriff voice.” It gave her warm shivers.

“And when was the last time that rope lift inside got an inspection? You know you need yearly inspections, or else I’ll have to give you a hefty fine.”

“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t know.” She’d been repeating those words like a mantra.

“Y-you know so much about how to maintain a house,” Sunny said, another mantra.

“Well, I’ve been working on the new house I just bought in the city. I could’ve gotten something more pricey but I wanted to be able to pay off my mortgage sooner.” A 2-bed townhouse in a new subdivision. He showed her photos of the place—each block filled with two rows of ten identical brown EIFS boxes. Sunny had to ask Hitch to point at which one of the boxes was his.

“And here’s the interior. The HOA board doesn’t let us do much with the outside, but inside, I’ve put some of my personal touch, you see. Like that sofa, I got it online, doesn’t it look comfy?”

“That’s…cozy.” The only good thing she could say about it.

There was a little clattering sound in the basement that distracted them. “Sunny, did you get your furnace serviced this year? You should do it before the winter starts.”

“Oh sorry, I didn’t know.” How many times had she already said that this afternoon? How many things was on her list of “things to do”?

All of a sudden then, Sunny’s head went giddy and then she staggered to a corner in the giant living room and then she started crying.

The floorboards creaked as Hitch cautiously approached. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t talk to me,” she spoke to her belly.

“Okay.”

Silence.

If Hitch stopped telling her things, the list wouldn’t get any bigger. Service furnace. Elevator inspection. Finish hardwood. Repaint beyond the front door. Redo cupcakes. Service furnace. Elevator inspection. Finish hardwood. Repaint beyond the front door. Redo cupcakes. Service furnace. Elevator inspection. Finish hardwood. Repaint beyond the front door. Redo cupcake—

—the list still got bigger anyway.

He talked anyway. “Look Sunny, it was already way too big of a place for just you and your dad, and now it’s just unmanageable. Even you and I can barely fix this place up.”

She hated Hitch’s sheriff voice.

“You think I can’t do it, Hitch?”

“I’m not saying that, it’s just I want you to understand how much effort you’ll need to put in if you want to keep living here by yourself. I’ll help you as much as I can, but I’m pretty busy at the sheriff’s office and I can’t stop by all the time.”

“S-sorry. Have a unicorn cup…” she stopped herself. Whenever there was tension in the room, she’d offer “unicorn cupcake?” It was like her default. And it worked most of the time. Food always seemed to ease tensions.

Except burnt cupcakes.

She took one of the unfrosted unicorn cupcakes for herself. It really did taste burnt. Like cremated ashes.

“Maybe it’s time you thought again about selling this place. That’s what everypony does after their family members die. You could sell and then get any 1 or 2-bed cottage or apartment you want in Mareitime Bay. Easy to clean, close to everypony else. I know some newly built houses in my neighborhood are still up for sale. We could be neighbors, just like old times.”

Sunny wanted to tell him, No it won’t. You can’t see the horizon facing Bridlewood looking back at you, not even on the highest level of a brown EIFS box.

“And you’ll have money to spare to spend on new things. It’s the logical thing to do.”

Sunny wouldn’t look at Hitch. Hitch’s sheriff voice and sheriff face and sheriff eyes.

He would keep her safe. He would make sure to tell the most correct thing to do.

He would stop her from being foolish.

All Sunny said was, “I guess that makes sense.”

Princess

“Dad? Are you there?”

2am. She was woken by a loud thud. Perhaps it was the pipes expanding again. But what if…

She stepped cautiously out of bedroom door. “Dad?”

She tripped twice, on some dusty books and trinkets lying on the floor. Six months had passed, and the 10% she didn’t have time to clean each day caught up to her.

She passed by her reflection in the mirror, barely lit by the moonlight, almost shocking herself with her frizzy bedhead.

She took the stairs down—after all, the rope lift didn’t have its yearly inspection yet. She realized Hitch had left his power drill on the end table. She picked up the phone to call him, until she realized how late it was.

THUD

Sunny’s head shot up. “Dad!? Dad!?”

Circles. Circles. Her head circled around the room. She ran in erratic circles around the tiny living room like a cat chasing her tail. Maybe she was rejoicing—keeping everything as it was just before Daddy died was working just as she planned, and Daddy’s spirit had at last returned. Or maybe she was pleading—if Daddy was actually there, could he not stop by a little longer? Please? “Please?”

Silence.

Hearing nothing, Sunny slowly made her way back to her bedroom to get some more sleep. Her eyes drooping to almost fall asleep, she took one step up—

THUD

She dashed to the photo by the front door, her hooves rattling the old wood floor. The cold sweat of her father’s spirit kept her eyes awake. She straightened the picture with her hoof and prostrated before it.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry Daddy I’ll never do it again I’m sorry I was wrong I gave up my true dream I played it safe I swear I swear I won’t listen to the sheriff anymore I promise I promise won’t fall for him I won’t do it!”

Sunny was a virgin.

She felt her throat sting as she caught her breath in the silence.

“I’m sorry Daddy, I won’t sell my castle. I won’t give in. I won’t give in to money and greed. Friendship matters more than a billion bits. That’s what you want, right? That’s what you were trying to tell me, right? Right?”

Although the inside was gathering dust again, and the iron railings outside were still rusted, the fresh patches of paint clearly visible, the tired wood floor covered with splinters, the furniture stuck twenty years in the past…

These walls were hers. The floor, the ceiling, the furniture. This was her property. Something about that made her feel so powerful.

She danced around in the empty halls until she choked from dust.

A royal gala—they had galas like that in Old Equestria right? Ah! Yes! The Grand Galloping Gala. The Grand Galloping Gala, where all the nobleponies would process in their finery, topped with a little chaos at the end per Celestia’s whim to liven up things. When you were an alicorn princess, there were no excuses to having fun! None at all!

Oh, what fun would it be!

In the darkness, the curtains turned into the flowy princess dress she always dreamt of wearing. The lighthouse top floor, a turret of a grand white marble castle.

In the half-awake darkness of 2am there were no fantasies. No hallucinations. Only reality.

They were here for her, in her reality. She was the light of the party. She was idol everypony adored. She was a princess.

The princess fell asleep on the hard floor and woke up at noon with a sore back.

Scared

Two days later, Hitch gave Sunny a call in the morning. He recommended Short Sale, a local real estate agent in the Bay to represent Sunny’s interests. She and Sunny met a few times at coffee shops in town, before agreeing to go tour the property.

“Shall we go to the lighthouse now?” Sunny asked Short Sale.

“Yes, let’s go see this property you’ve got.”

They got off the tram and walked down the long winding path towards the 1.4 acre prime beachfront property occupied by an aging lighthouse.

“Sunny, I just wanted to say—my condolences on yer father’s passin’.” Dad and her were once acquaintances. From what he briefly said about her, she was in the same cohort as Hitch—willing to be friendly and offer help to them, but still skeptical of their mission for Equestrian unity. And Dad held no ill will against Short Sale—then again, he held no ill will to even his worst enemy.

Only kindness and friendship guarantees the demise of evil. Sunny wondered if Dad would’ve said the same thing when developers came knocking at his door. Maybe that’s why never stopped by while he was still alive. They feared his kindness. They feared the one thing that would save them from evil…

“OUCH!”

“My hoofness! Ya all right sweetheart? Took a little tumble there, eh?”

Sunny got up after tripping over a tree root.

“Goodness, yer bleeding a little! Here, I got an extra bandage in my bag somewhere…”

“N-no, it’s fine…” At that moment, that tree root felt like her worst enemy.

She tried to smile at it.

Mrs. Sale bandaged Sunny up and they continued their walk, albeit a bit more slowly. As they reached the property line, she pulled out a large metal sign—she’d been carrying it face down in a cart during the whole journey—and hammered it into the ground.

The sign read, in bold red lettering:

PRIVATE PROPERTY.

>> NO SOLICITATION.

>> NO PUBLIC ACCESS BEYOND THIS POINT

>> DO NOT DISTURB OCCUPANTS.

TRESPASSERS WILL BE REMOVED AND PROSECUTED BY LAW ENFORCEMENT.

Sunny tried to mimic Hitch’s “Play it cool” expression—instead she shuddered. “Don’t you think it’s a little…harsh?”

“Well, that’s why you’ve got all those developers knocking on your door trying to harass you, sweetheart! I was almost shocked when you told me how much these cold callers were offering ya. I can easily get you double, even triple what those swindlers quoted you.

“I talked with Hitch, sweetie—he’s a good kid, an’ he really does care about ya. He said, any developer tries to harass ya again, give ‘im a call and he’ll take care of it straight away. These developers are sneaky, real sneaky, sneaky folk I tell you—you might as well call ‘em half-pegasus. Most of ‘em aren’t even from here, eh, they’re from Las Pegasus! Which was, yep, a pegasus city before the earth ponies took over two centuries ago. Say what ya may, Sunny, but there’s something about their genes, I tell yer. Maybe some interbreeding goin’ on, heaven forbid.”

She leaned in close to Sunny, placing her hoof on her back. “My point is, darling. High-value inheritance clients are my specialty, Sunny. You can’t be too careful. This is like your castle, sweetheart. You gotta protect it if you want to fall into the right buyer’s hooves.”

“M-my castle, huh?” Sunny smiled.

They reached the front door; Sunny rummaged through her saddlebag for the key. The lighthouse towered above the two of them, but Sunny was not intimidated. This was her castle, after all.

“Would you like some tea when we get inside?”

Short Sale smiled. “Why, of course I would, darling.”

Sunny’s smile grew wider. “I’m glad.”

With Hitch’s help, she mopped up and lacquered the wood floor. She sold enough smoothies during a warm spell to afford to hire someone to repaint the entire cast iron exterior. Yes. This house will sell.

Nopony will think me a fool now!

“This is a lovely interior, hun. Clean, in good shape. How long y’all had this furniture for?”

“It might’ve been here even before Dad bought the place. So at least twenty years old.”

“It’s certainly been well-cared for…an’ that’s the most important thing, I tell ya. A lotta folks jus’ let these old lighthouses fall apart.”

They walked through the kitchen, living room, and a quick glance at the mudroom where the laundry machine was. In her cart, Short Sale also brought several staging pieces.

“Sunny, wow! Hun, lookin’ at the condition of this place, this is easily a 5 million, even 6 million property. But you gotta make the interior feel like that much money. Look, dear, I know it’s real superficial, but you know what’s in fashion these days? Neutrals—greys, whites, blacks. That’s what sells. The high net-worth buyers you’re trying to target really care ‘bout these little details.

“I think…paint the walls white. And instead of these here wood floors, somethin’ like a white marble. And the furniture should be neutrals. Jus’ like this living chair. There. That’s much better.” She placed a staging piece next to Sunny’s telescope.

Silently, Sunny blinked and squinted a few times. Her vision saw color except a chair-shaped patch of greyscale in the center of her pupil.

“I’ll send ya the contact of the staging professional I use. He’s a real pro, I tell ya.”

“Oh…okay,” Sunny muttered.

They continued to walk around the living room.

“What’s this?” Short Sale pointed to the flag on the wall.

Sunny’s face quickly reanimated. “Ohmygosh, you’re the first one to ask! Here, see, now this, this…is the Old Equestrian flag—back during the times of unified Equestria, you see, there was the sun princess, Celestia, here on the left, and here on the right—”

“That’s lovely dear,” Short Sale chuckled, taking a sip of the tea Sunny offered her. “Takes me right back to the days when my grandma told those old myths to us kids at bedtime.”

“They’re not myths, you know. Dad’s been doing archeological research that proves that this building was once a part of Old Equestria.”

“Oh, is that so?” Mrs. Sale couldn’t help but raise a brow. “W-well, erm…we should talk ‘bout it some more, erm, dear, after we do our walk through.” She chuckled nervously. “But I think you should put the flag away, sweetheart. Buyers will think you’re trying to hide a crack behind the plaster walls.”

Sunny’s animated expression froze—then deflated. She folded up the flag. There was no crack. And as they continued their walkthrough upstairs, the only opinion Sunny had formed so far of Short Sale was…

What a goddamned good salespony.

Their next stop was Sunny’s bedroom. “So, same thing here, Sunny. You and your late father definitely took great care of this place, an’ I really appreciate that, you know…” and more compliments to shower under until she was drowning. And here comes the line…

“But we gotta change up the interior into somethin’ that matches the modern trend.”

Why should I change it? It’s mine—Sunny wants to say, but stopped herself.

It won’t be mine.

Because I’m selling it.

This time, a pillow-shaped patch of grey appeared in her vision.

It’s not mine anymore.

“Next time I’ll bring some white duvets,” the realtor continued. “To mute the color scheme a little. And you should clear out this clutter too.”

The goddamned good salespony seemed to notice Sunny’s hesitation.

“I know, honey, I a’int a big fan of the neutrals myself. If I were living here, what you have here would be perfect for me. But that’s not what the buyers with the big bucks want.”

How much big bucks does she make if she sells this? What is it? 5% commission?

Well. Two can play at that game.

“Are you looking to buy?” Sunny asked.

“Oh, sweetheart…I…it’s a little outta my own price range.”

Sunny gulped up the rest of her tea to give her strength. “I’ll sell it you. Cheap. How much can you afford?”

“No honey, I really can’t…”

“Think about it. Name me a number and I’ll tell you yes or no.”

And it was at that moment Short Sale caught the first glimpse of the six wooden figurines on one of the shelves.

Sunny instinctually ran to cover Mrs. Sale’s view of the ponies—almost shielding them from her judging stare. “Erm, well…I…maybe I can keep one or two—these two—” she picked up Applejack and Pinkie Pie.

“Some decorations are great, Sunny. They add a personal touch to the home. Those are quite small, I suppose—but generally we want the decorations to be…neutral. These six pony figures might be…offensive. Or even scary to some buyers.”

What kind of “buyer” was this that would be scared of six little pony toys barely the size of a hoof? A five-year-old perhaps? No, the five-year-old would just innocently play with them.

No. That scared “buyer” was…Short Sale.

Fluttershy stood in the middle of the row of six today, flanked by Rarity and Twilight Sparkle. The pegasus’s eyes directed straight at Short Sale.

And Short Sale, the talkative salepony, suddenly fell silent, trying to maintain her “service with a smile”, but the trembling of the floorboards below her hooves blew her cover.

Sunny made a furtive glance at her bedsheets, imagining somepony else lying on there in her place—imagining Short Sale. In a cold sweat, scared. Of two wooden unicorns and two wooden pegasi.

“You think…it’ll scare off buyers?” Sunny repeated.

“It…it might.”

For some odd reason, those words made a smirk creep up Sunny’s face.

The realtor tried to conceal the shaking in her voice. “W-w-well. Sh-shall we move on to the n-next room.”

“Yeah. My father’s room is upstairs. You’ll love it, from his desk you have a lovely view…” Sunny’s smile was like a piercing glare to the realtor.

Sunny was prepared to offer the house to Short Sale for just half a million, but she decided she would not try to sell the house to Short Sale anymore.

Now the princess was just having a little fun with the guest in her castle.

Foolish Decisions

We’re home.

Finally. Court was so boring.

Daddy, how can you say that!? We got in trouble with the LAW! We could’ve gone to jail! She gave you that slip of paper that says you have to pay a fine!

Don’t worry, my little pony. When you grow up, you’ll learn not to worry about these things so much.

…

…

Daddy, are we just a bunch of fools?

We’re not fools, Sunny. We just made foolish decisions.

I know. That’s what the judge said to you.

There’s a difference between a fool and someone who makes foolish decisions.

What’s that?

Fools make foolish decisions at random. We know when to and when not to make foolish decisions.

…what’s that supposed to mean?

Hmm. I’ll give you an example. Remember what I told you about when I bought this house?

You bought it when it was cheap and now it’s worth a lot.

Right. Back when I was young, before Canterlogic moved their headquarters here, and this place was just a little sleepy fishing village. I bought this rocky land by the cliff with a broken-down lighthouse for 50,000 Bits. And do you remember what Mommy told me after I bought it?

She said you made a foolish decision.

That’s right. We didn’t have much back then, Sunny. It cost our entire life savings.

And that’s why she left you and me for that other stallion.

That’s right. But look at us now. It was my foolish decision that’s going to give you a future after I’m gone.

So are you saying I won’t be poor like you? And I can live comfy in this home for the rest of my life.

Ehehe. Well, you can stay here if you want. But this is very important, Sunny. Once you grow up, you need to make your foolish decisions too. It’s so easy to just settle into this home and not take any risks. I know you have big dreams to bring earth ponies, unicorns, and pegasi together. But no amount of money can buy friendship.

Then what can?

You can. With your message to the world. So choose your foolish decisions wisely. And you can get all the things you’ve always wanted.

Share

“You couldn’t sell it, huh?”

“Yeah, Short Sale was a nice pony, thanks for the referral…but this place still feels like a part of me. It’s not a beach frontage property. It’s not a 1 million, 5 million, or even 10 million dollar property. It’s my home. My castle.”

Hitch smiled. “If it makes you happy, Sunny. It’s certainly not the decision I would have made if I were in your shoes,” the town sheriff said.

“Well to each their own,” said the third-highest-net-worth resident of Mareitime Bay.

Hitch was over at Sunny’s place again for dinner—pasta carbonara washed down with glasses of white wine. For dessert, there was unicorn cupcakes again, this time perfectly edible. She followed a recipe off the internet, the one with the most amount of upvotes, and it ended up tasting exactly the same as how Dad used to make it.

6734 others made this recipe and liked it

“Mmf. These are good I think you finally nailed your father’s recipe,” Hitch said, finishing the remaining third of this second cupcake in one bite.

It turns out, 6734 others already knew the secret ingredient.

“You like it?” Sunny asked, her expression miles away.

“Yeah. In fact…almost even better than I remember it being.”

And hearing that from Hitch made Sunny feel a little more special so that was okay.

“Let me get those plates for you, Hitch.”

He quickly stands up with her. “No, no, I can take my own. There’s space in the sink for both of us. We should share the work.”

Share.

Share…

Share?

Every princess needs a castle. This shall become yours…

…yours to share with your best friends.

And at last the sentence was completed.

Did Dad actually mean to say that? Would he have said that on his deathbed were it not for the painkillers kicking in and his speech becoming too slurred to be understood? She would never know.

With Hitch helping her, the dishes seemed to get done three times as fast as when she was by herself. Maybe one day, they would be four times as fast, or even eight times as fast. Was it exponential? Did friendship even work that way?

“Well, Sunny, thanks for dinner. It was really tasty. I better get going. And let me know if you ever change your mind about selling.” He walked to the door, turning back to give her a polite nod.

Sunny extended a hoof, skirting across his fur. “Well. It’s late though…Hitch. You shouldn’t walk alone so late at night. Why don’t you stay over?”

“I know it’s past midnight, but I should be fine. I mean, I am the town sheriff after all,” he said with a smirk.

“No, I insist. I'll make you some tea.”

“Don't sweat it Sunny, I’ve got my trusty flashlight, so I won’t trip in the dark.”

Sunny’s expression flattened. “You really can’t take a hint, can you, Hitch? I want you to stay over.”

The sheriff retreated from the door. “Well, I guess I could…” Hitch approached the couch, testing it for firmness.

“Hitch. My bedroom’s upstairs.” She set one hoof on the rope lift and beckoned with her head.

Tonight was a dream. Tonight was bliss. Sunny was not alone. Hitch was not a sheriff. Tomorrow reality would come again. Hitch would leave by six to report for sheriff duty, taking a quick shower using two pumps of Sunny’s fur shampoo.

“See you, Hitch. Here’s your badge. I found it hiding under the blankets.”

Hitch nodded politely. “Well…see ya, Sunny. And...thanks for last night.”

"Yeah. It was nice."

Sunny shut the door. The harsh morning sunlight shone directly through the window and into her eye. She let out a strained groan as her back slid down the door and she flopped belly-down onto the freshly lacquered wood floor.

And so Sunny stayed alone in her lighthouse. Waiting for the day she didn’t have to dream.

Author's Note

Update: I've heard there have been issues with Sunny's phone number in the story getting recognized as a phone call hyperlink. To try to fix this issue I have changed the last digit to an x. The phone number is random numbers and has no significance to the story.