Whenever Hearthswarming rolled around, walking through Ponyville felt like exploring a scaled-up diorama.
It wasn’t as if Ponyville was particularly unique in its style of decorations. Like anywhere else, ponies combated the dull whites and greys of freshly fallen snow with colourful bunting strewn across streets, stalls with brightly hued tarps filled with fantastic looking, smelling and tasting goodies. Not to mention the sheer volume and variety of lanterns and lights glowing from windows or hanging on poles.
Ponyville practically glowed during those precious, delightful weeks despite the gloomy weather.
And Twilight had all the more reason to love it the longer she stayed.
Wrapped up in a thick winter coat, wool on the outside and a sensorily appropriate inner lining, she trotted her way through the streets. It had been a good five or so years since she moved into Ponyville at Celestia’s behest, and while reluctant at first, she’d fallen in love with the town and its residents. She’d made a gaggle of close friends she’d literally die for, and among them was a particular pink-maned baker who made her heart flutter.
Twilight passed Sugarcube Corner, packed to the windows with ponies eager to get their holiday treats. Half the options on offer were Pinkie’s own concoctions, famous across the town and beyond, which made Twilight wonder if there were enough to go around for everypony. She’d got to try every single one that year, being the prime taste tester and offering her scientific insight to countermand Pinkie’s manic yet brilliant ideas.
The pink lemonade pie was probably already sold out. That was Twilight’s favourite on offer.
The main square out front of the town hall was never busier than during those same weeks. It was shocking what a dedicated effort to clear the snow could do, as the road underneath the square had been cleared to make room for more stalls. Twilight wanted to get something to eat and something as a little gift for Pinkie once they met up; thus, she beelined it for a stand serving fresh soft pretzels.
It had been set up a stone’s throw away from a nearby café in a place of honour in the town square. Despite that, it was never too busy for Twilight, and she loved sitting outside while she and Pinkie grabbed a bite to eat, sharing lunch in the middle of their work days.
As the stallion behind the stall placed a trio of the immense pretzels into a basket, Twilight swallowed the building hunger in her mouth. Her stomach wanted filling, even if she wasn’t exactly hungry, but she forced herself to be patient as she hoofed over the bits to the stallion. A healthy sprinkling of fat salt crystals adorned their knotted tops and many darker, littler flecks. Twilight sniffed them as she continued, catching notes of smoke and pepper.
She then dipped into the café, still open despite the late hour, to fetch hot drinks. Unlike Sugarcube Corner, they were never packed. Twilight loved the place where Pinkie worked, but it occasionally became a little overwhelming despite Pinkie’s efforts.
One thing that had irked Twilight early on was that Ponyville had no straight streets, save for a few that ran directly to the middle. Much of the town was a meandering maze of white-washed walls and thatched roofs that drove Twilight batty in the first few weeks.
Twilight had learned to appreciate getting lost with Pinkie. In the first months, they started dating, she wanted to explore the town with Twilight, and they discovered new corners, parks, and stores. The town wasn’t massive, but it still had plenty of secrets to tell either of them.
Twilight’s mind had built a mental map in the years since her arrival. She knew the winding side street would come out onto another main road that she was all too familiar with. It was a thoroughfare that served as an impromptu hub for her and her friends, as it used to be the most convenient place to meet.
After all, Twilight had walked more or less a straight line from Sugarcube Corner. From the intersection where Twilight stood, if one headed out of town, they’d find Sweet Apple Acres along the shortest path. Kitty corner from there, a few streets over, the Carousel Boutique. Not that Twilight bought into it, but following the lines one could draw from those three locations, it was guaranteed that one would find Fluttershy’s cottage and the rolling hills that Rainbow Dash’s home hovered over.
And in the middle of all of them was a tree. Tall, proud, and loved.
It wasn’t the same tree. Twilight had lost that years ago in an act of malice and hatred aimed at her. She’d lost a part of the world she knew, she trusted.
Under the new tree, sitting on a bench, was Pinkie Pie adorned with a light blue parka and bobble hat.
Twilight approached and planted a kiss on the crown of Pinkie’s forehead. Underneath the spot she pecked, through the layers of wool and mane, was Pinkie’s head.
She turned her head up, her big blue eyes brimming with energy. A toothy grin bloomed across her face, and Twilight braced for a screech or shout, the coiled spring that was her girlfriend leaping up off the bench and making Twilight spill her things.
What came out was instead soft and quiet. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Twilight chuckled and stopped before Pinkie, holding out a paper cup in her magic. Pinkie took it, bravely holding the scalding container in gloved hooves.
Parking herself next to Pinkie, Twilight leaned against her and shut her eyes. Once around Pinkie, there was nothing that could freeze Twilight up. Ice might threaten her nose, frost tickle her cheeks, and a breeze send shivers down her spine, but she had her Pinkie.
And Pinkie had her Twilight.
“You’re early,” Twilight said as she straightened up again. She tilted the cup to her lips, carefully testing the hot liquid inside.
Scalding. Best to let it cool.
“I was too excited to stay at home!”
With a snort, Twilight tilted her head. “Really? It’s just a regular date, Pinkie.”
“Yeah! That’s why I’m excited. Every date with you is exciting.”
“Well, I might not show it, but the sentiment is shared.” Both mares giggled, and Pinkie leaned into Twilight that time, nuzzled into her neck.
That only lasted a second, as her nose twitched before turning to aim directly at the basket hovering about a foot in front of Twilight. “Ooh, snackies.”
Twilight floated the basket over to Pinkie, only to watch the first pretzel quickly torn in two. The half already in Pinkie’s mouth vanished instantly, followed by a hoof put to her lips. “Ooh, Clay Kiln is in town! I know that smoked salt flavour anywhere.”
“You didn’t see him when you came over?” Twilight asked.
Pinkie shook her head. “Nope! Like I said, too excited!”
More and more, Pinkie pressed her weight on Twilight’s side. That indicated that Pinkie wanted some lap time, which Twilight was happy to give. With a little shift of her weight here, leaning back there, Pinkie flopped backwards onto Twilight’s lap with her legs up in the air.
The sight of the two of them together in that park was a common one. Twilight’s friends, driven mainly by Pinkie, had planted the tree and built the park around it with the help of a few others and some public funding. It was small, really just a garden detached from any home. It was devoid of any flowers in the winter, but Twilight could see their vibrant colours even in the dim light of evening, covered in a thick blanket of snow. It made a nice change for the ruins that might have otherwise remained in its place.
The two of them looked up at the cloudy sky through the branches of the tree gone dormant for the winter. A determined young thing, it reached the heavens like it was on a mission and stubbornly clung to its leaves, having only lost a few. Pegasi and earth ponies had tried to coax it to change its mind and prepare for the winter, but after the second year, it was simply let be. Applejack worried that it would expend too much energy to keep itself so pristine but also accepted it had perhaps the best two stewards to watch over it.
Resting a hoof on Pinkie’s stomach, Twilight watched the faint flickers of light among the clouds where the moon’s glow tried to penetrate through. It gave the sky an eerie glow, like a dim ceiling that hung over Ponyville. It hemmed things in, making everything feel a little cramped, a little cosy.
Twilight tried sipping her drink again. Still too hot, but it was getting cooler.
“Hey, Twilight?”
Twilight’s attention fell from the sky above to the world below, encapsulated on her lap. Pinkie stared past her, the faintly glowing fluff above reflected in her eyes.
“Yes, Pinkie?”
“I’ve been thinking,” Pinkie started.
Twilight chuckled. “Always dangerous with either of us.” A joke, starting as a snide remark during a rougher time, now a sentiment that echoed their connection.
For a second, Pinkie’s gaze connected with Twilight’s, and she stuck out her tongue.
Twilight returned the crude gesture, sending both into giggles.
It was easy to derail their thoughts. Both mares loved to get lost in their minds for different reasons. Once in tune, it only amplified how easily the two could get distracted. Twilight knew that they were a poor influence on one another, but she’d never try to fix it or trade it out.
As their laughter wound down, Pinkie gasped to calm her breathing quicker. “I’ve been thinking,” she said between breaths. “About, well, future things.”
“Future things?” Twilight pondered that. It could mean anything, especially for Pinkie. For somepony that lived in the moment, she was constantly planning ahead, keeping fastidious notes that could make pre-Ponyville twilight blush. “I’m afraid you need to be more specific than that, sweetie.”
With just a slight tilt of her head, Pinkie retrieved the other half of her pretzel from where Twilight had settled the basket beside them. She spoke around it. “Abou’ us and this,” she said, waving a hoof. The rest of the pretzel disappeared soon after, gobbled down with gusto in a way only Pinkie could manage, though Dash could come a close second.
“This?” Twilight followed Pinkie’s hoof. She could mean the park, Ponyville, or the world.
Pinkie was a more immediate mare. What she saw in front of her mattered more often than what didn’t.
“You mean the park? The tree?”
Pinkie nodded. “Yeah! I know it’s a long time away, but I can’t help but think about our plans for Shining Oaks once it’s ready. I want to make sure it’s perfect for us!” Pinkie rolled over and landed on her hooves like a cat before rearing up and gesturing to the tree. “One day, this will be real big to make space for everything we could want.”
Twilight blinked. “We have the castle. It’s got more rooms than I can count.” She laughed, a little nervous. Sometimes, the castle added more rooms to throw her count off.
Pinkie scoffed as she glanced over her shoulder. “Yeah, but it’s not as nice. Too big, too cold.” She fell back onto her hooves. “Too much like we’re living in some cake ornament, which sounds super duper cool until you realise that there’s not an entire planet of cake underneath to eat.”
“…I suppose so.” Twilight shrugged. “What did you have in mind for the tree, then?”
Pinkie’s face lit up, as it always did, with another big, bright grin. “A biiig kitchen! And two classrooms, one for me and one for you. I gotta teach all the foals how to bake, after all, and you can teach them, I dunno…” She rolled a hoof in the air. “Pie-fat-gummy theorems or something.”
Snorting, Twilight rolled her eyes. “Pythagorean,” she corrected. “Anyway, I kind of figured that we’d make Shining Oaks look like the old place. I never considered making it bigger, but I suppose we could.”
“Yeah!” Pinkie hopped on the spot. “Put a snuggle-den above that, where we can read and talk and smooch.” Pinkie winked, stealing a little air from Twilight’s lungs as she did. “Then above that, we can put in our actual bedrooms.”
Twilight tilted her head. “Bedrooms… Plural?” She chuckled. “I guess making sure our friends have somewhere to stay on sleepovers.” She settled her still-cooling hot chocolate on the bench’s arm as she slid off, then closed the gap between them.
“Well… Yeah! Sorta!” It was customary for Pinkie to fidget. “I was kinda hoping it could be for something else, though. Something, um, more special.”
“More special?” Twilight hummed. “What could be more special than me and you or our friends?” She thought for a moment. Strangers were special, but not in the same way close friends or family were. Maybe that was Pinkie hinting at some volunteer work? But why bother using a tree in the future for that when Twilight’s castle could and did already serve that purpose. Daycare, perhaps…?
Warmth flooded Twilight’s cheeks when the suggestion finally clicked into place.
Pinkie’s snorting exploded into laughter as Twilight yanked her hat over her eyes. “I may be a dork, but I’m super duper serious,” Pinkie said as she pulled her hat back up.
Laughter filled Twilight’s gut. “Where has this come from?” she asked. “This is… pretty forward-thinking, even for you.”
There, Pinkie’s expression smoothed out a little. “Aha…” She then rubbed one of her legs against the other, looking down at the craters she’d made in the snow where she landed. “Well… I kinda lied about being excited. N-not that I wasn’t! I’m always excited about you!”
“Psh.” Twilight waved a hoof Pinkie’s way, then stepped a little closer, their snouts only a few inches apart. Pinkie’s hot breath helped equalise the heat of Twilight’s flushed cheeks with the air around them if only a little. “What’s up, then?”
“I, well…”
Ever fidgeting, Pinkie rarely stood still for long, like she always had to be in motion. Put her beside an immovable object, and she’d win every single time. Right then, though, she seemed a little more… agitated. She wasn’t ready to leap; instead, it seemed like she was itching herself.
“Yes?” Twilight put a hoof to Pinkie’s chin.
The itching, squirming Pinkie slowed. “I was just… Worried. About us and the future.” She laughed, the sound uncharacteristically nervous for Pinkie. “I’ve never been in a relationship, and you’re so amazing and wonderful.”
Ah. Doubt. Twilight had dealt with that plenty before and during their time together. “You don’t need to start second-guessing yourself, Pinkie.”
“I’m not!” Her protest was shrill, seemingly offended. A hoof came up, fetlock wrapping around Twilight’s leg. She let it rest there, not pulling it down, letting the only pressure be applied via gravity. “I’m not. I just never expected it to last this long. I never planned it, even though I’m constantly thinking about our next date, your next gift, our next kiss…”
Twilight sighed and shook her head slightly. “You don’t know how relieving it is to hear you say that.” She chuckled and kissed Pinkie’s nose. “Because that just means you’re totally normal. I worry about that, too.”
Pinkie blinked twice. “Really?”
“Yes. Back when we started dating, I was probably at my most uncertain. Things were very strange, and I had absolutely no idea where life was going to go.”
Snouts pressed together, heads angled down to keep lips apart, to let Twilight talk. “So I took a chance with you, and you helped me learn a valuable lesson.”
She pulled Pinkie into an embrace with one leg, pressing their lips together. It was just as electric as the first, all those years ago. That uncertainty, confronting the same unusually nervous mare years ago, concern over her behaviour driving Twilight’s actions.
Twilight held Pinkie’s gaze this time, for the seconds they smooched and the seconds after as Pinkie’s mane frazzled with enthusiasm.
“I learned to be spontaneous.”
