Twintwined In Twincest and Twinbreeding

The cold settled fast in the evenings around Hope Hollow. It was a quirk of the area so well known to the locals that it had its own name, ‘evenset’. While most residents were inclined to close up shop early to get indoors, the town’s pegasi were never ones to complain about the cold. The Barrel Twins were no exception.

The sky began to turn gold as the sun kissed the peaks of the distant mountains. Trees whipped and rustled as the pegasi siblings skimmed the green canopy of the old growth woods, kicking up a spiraling flurry of leaves in their wake. They traced a pair of wide semicircles before rejoining and shooting straight up in an arc side by side. Once at their zenith, they split apart again to descend in two lazy, ever widening helixes like a pair of feathers slowly rocking their way down to earth. At the ground their paths aligned for a wouldbe head on collision. they parachuted their wings outward, touching down on the clearing’s surface like ducks landing on a still pond. Their hooves skidded in the soil, leaving shallow plow marks behind. The twins slowed to a stop just inches apart, face to face with almost perfect synchronicity.

Pickle exhaled in relief, and dropped to his haunches, internally celebrating their well executed maneuver. They’d messed up the end of that one before and it wasn’t pretty.

“Alright, we have time for a couple more.” he declared emphatically. “Next we’re doing the cone twist down.”

They’d blown the whole remainder of their after school time on aerial practice and now it was almost dinner time. They didn’t want to make their mom come looking for them again.

“It’s my turn to pick,” whined Barley.

“We’re not picking anymore, remember?” he explained haughtily. “This is our new training regimen that’s designed to prepare us for the Wonderbolts.”

“Yeah but we already know cone twist down probably the best out of anything. Let’s do something new; we should push ourselves more.”

Pickle put a hoof to his chin in thought. “Yeah, okay, fine.” he sighed. “You can pick one. Maybe we can rotate our routine for variety.”

“Let’s do mirror maze,” she suggested.

“Sure.”

“But hang on a second,” grunted Barley, walking away. She grabbed her water bottle from off of the step platforms, tilted her head back and took a big swig.

This secluded clearing was like their clubhouse, a space a ways from town that they’d claimed for themselves as a training camp. It did have a tiny fort with a sheet metal roof at the treeline but the grounds were mostly inhabited by serpentine course gates and other low altitude agility obstacles that they’d built just by copying designs they’d seen in photos from books and a Wonderbolts brochure that Rainbow Dash had left them. Everything was made out of logs, scraps from dumpster diving and wood stock of unknown ownership that they thought better to not ask about.

The filly lined up on the runway blocks and turned expectantly to her brother. “Okay. Ready when you are.”

Pickle trotted over and settled his hooves on the blocks right beside his sister, a little over one wingspan apart for them. He coiled up and began to count. “One… two… three!

The two sprang into a gallop down the chalk lined runway and quickly flapped into the air. A moment later they had leveled off about the trees, staying shoulder to shoulder. Then they began their routine. It was called mirror maze because they were supposed to remain next to one another as each other's reflections through every turn like they were zooming through a maze of mirrors. They'd both memorized the route. It was mostly just a matter of timing to get their synchronization locked down.

The two performed an s-bend where thet crossed their wings, bumped shoulders and wobbled.

“Hey, you’re crowding me,” growled Pickle.

“You’re crowding me,” she shot back with a huff.

Pickle pushed back, nudging his sister off course. She overcorrected angrily coming back in. They collided once more, rougher this time, and lost altitude. Now unable to correct their flight path, they began to panic as they sank into the treetops. Their flailing limbs caught in the branches, sending them tumbling through the air.

They screamed in unison as they exploded through the thick foliage, taking knicks and scrapes from unseen branches. Barley emerged first, somersaulting backwards on the ground till she came to a stop face up in the grass. Pickle landed off balance on his forelegs, skittering and stumbling forward till he tripped on his face and his lips connected roughly with something warm and soft.

Stunned, Pickle laid there for a moment, wondering why his own heavy breaths seemed to be coming right back inside of him. The sensation on his lips wasn’t just soft and warm. It was wet too. He pushed up with a groan until his panting, wide-eyed sister came into focus beneath him. Disoriented and full of surging adrenaline, they just stared into each other while their brains caught up with the situation.

“That was… stupid,” she breathed shakily.

Reflexively he licked the bit of his sister’s saliva that lingered on his lips. Then, realizing it was weird, wiped his mouth with the back of his hoof. That was her lips… on his. Their lips touched and it wasn’t just a short little brush. They’d basically… accidentally… kissed.

This was a revelation that they'd both made but in the moment it didn't feel as impactful or disgusting as they thought it should have. Too shaken by their tumble, it was just nice to know that they hadn't been seriously injured.

“Are you gonna get off?” she murmured weakly.

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” He groaned as he got to his hooves, an ache in his hind leg and a few stinging cuts on his underside.

Barley snatched up her hat and pulled it back over her head though she remained sprawled out on her back. Suddenly she felt a strange buzzing in her flanks but before she could investigate, her attention turned to her brother who's own flank was… glowing with white light.

Pickle looked back at himself and gasped with mouth agape. The strange light faded away, revealing a strange mark emblazoned upon him. He gasped again, eyes nearly exploding out of his head. “I- I got my- I got my-”

“I got my cutie mark too,” shouted his sister in triumph, having shot to her dancing hooves.

“Yeah!”

They high hoofed and hugged, laughing in delirious elation.

“What’s yours?” asked Pickle, craning his neck to see.

She looked back at her own flank again for a closer inspection. “It looks like a barrel full of barley and… there's… a pickle in it?”

“That's what mine is,” he blurted. “We got the same cutie mark?”

They spun around to touch flanks and compare them side by side. It was true. They were like mirror images of the same mark. A standing wooden barrel filled with barley and a large pickle sticking out of the top like a flag on a sandcastle.

“I’ve never heard of that before,” shrugged Barley. “What does it mean?”

“I have no idea,” he breathed slowly.

It was clear that their names were being referenced with each element depicted in the image but they were left scratching their heads about the deeper special meaning that every cutie mark had. True, there were ponies with cutie marks essentially identical to their names but they still always alluded to a unique skill or destiny.

“Well, hold on, think back,” suggested Barley. “What did we do? How did we get it?”

Pickle put a hoof to his chin in thought. “Um… We fell… We hit some trees.”

“We’ve fallen and hit trees before,” she droned. “Also that would be a really stupid cutie mark if that's what it's from.”

Pickle mumbled to himself, now less sure this was going to get them the answer to their question. “We hit the ground.”

“Done that…”

“I fell on top of you… and our lips touched?”

Barley blushed and grimaced at the suggestion that that one strange moment carried some huge significance. “That can't be it.”

“Well what is it then?” he shrugged. Not that he wanted that to be it but there really wasn't much else to go with.

“I don't know but it just doesn't make sense. This feels like a weird dream.”

“We need to show mom!”

“Yeah, c'mon!” - - -

The twins hit the ground running outside their humble cottage, bursting through the front door with explosive fervor.

“Mom!”

“Mom!”

They shouted as a warm, savory steam cloud hit them in the face. They came to a skidding stop in the kitchen where their mother stood cooking over the stove.

Brandy Barrel spun around with a wooden spoon in her wingtip. “What's all the commotion about?”

“We got our cutie marks,” they blurted triumphantly in unison.

The two siblings turned their broadsides to her and stood flank to flank.

Her eyes landed on the pair of identical cutie marks and she dropped the spoon and gasped with both hooves over her mouth. “Oh, my stars, you did! And they look identical! That's so special!” She sat on her haunches and drew them into a tight hug, one in each foreleg.

“We don't know what it means, though,” worried Barley.

“Oh, let me look at them.” she said standing back up.

They turned to show her their yellow flanks once again. She eyed them back and forth, first one, then the other. Then she scratched her head, befuddled at what looked like a lazy visual mashup of their names that seemingly conveyed nothing exceptional about them.

“Well, they're definitely the same anyway… What exactly were you doing when you got your marks?” she asked thoughtfully.

“Nothing really,” shrugged Barley. “We failed at a maneuver and then crash landed.”

“We kissed,” interrupted Pickle.

“Pickle?” she groaned in embarrassment. “It was an accident,” she clarified to their wide-eyed mother.

“Yeah but we still got the marks like pretty much right after that,” he added matter-of-factly.

Brandy chuckled nervously. “Oh, well I'm sure that's unrelated.” She cocked her head to the side. “Did I ever tell you about your aunt Tulip? When she got her cutie mark, everyone just assumed it was a tulip bulb until a year later when grandma saw it up really close and figured out it was actually a beet which made a lot more sense because she was better at canning than gardening.” She laughed again. “Anyway,” she sighed. “Your cutie marks probably just have something to do with cooking.”

The twins exchanged skeptical glances.

“But we weren't cooking or doing anything with food at all,” argued Barley.

Just then the stove hissed as the pot boiled over with foam. “Oh dear.” she whirled around and moved the pot from the burner with her mouth. Then she turned down the flames.

“Speaking of cooking… Why don't you two set the table for us? Dinner's almost ready.” - - -

“We'll have to plan a little cute-ceñera for ya,” chimed their mother, scooping up a steaming spoonful of vegetable soup.

“Yeah,” agreed Pickle,” stirring his own bowl absently. “But I don't think we should have it till we know what our cutie marks actually represent.”

“That's fair,” she shrugged. “Could take a while before we figure it out though. You might not want to wait too long.”

The twins frowned at that thought.

“Well… how do we figure it out?” cried Pickle.

“We'll figure it out eventually,” she assured him thoughtlessly. “You know, maybe you should write a letter to your friend, Rainbow Dash. I bet she'd love to hear about it and it might make you feel better.”

They looked at eachother with sudden excitement burning in their eyes.

“Yeah!”

“After homework though,” she added. “And I want you to eat everything in your bowls. Don't avoid the celery.” - - -

Barley spat out her pen on the desk and slid the letter close to herself to see. “Okay, here's the whole thing:

Dear Rainbow Dash, This is an official letter from the Hope Hollow chapter of your fan club. We hope you are doing well and can't wait to see you and the Wonderbolts in action this year at the Southgate Expo. Pickle and I still practice our flying routines almost every single day. Our training grounds are really big now and we'd love to show you our course if you're ever in town again. But the real reason we're writing you is because we got our cutie marks! We got them at the exact same time and they match. We're really happy but we don't know what they mean. We hope to figure it out soon so that we can have our cute-ceñera party. Well, keep being awesome. See you later.

Barley Barrel: President

Pickle Barrel: Assistant President

Does that sound good?” she asked, turning to him in her chair.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

She looked at the note again, not reading it but more looking at the shapes of the words. “We are happy… right?”

“Yeah,” he answered slowly.

The initial delirious joy of just getting a cutie mark had evaporated, replaced with confusion and anxious uncertainty. The likelihood that their heart's desires and their destiny matched up seemed to be fading away before their eyes.

Barley carefully folded up the letter and slipped it into an envelope already addressed to Rainbow Dash. She licked it closed, grimacing at the sourness of the adhesive on her tongue.

“Here, you do the stamp.” she commanded, sliding the envelope toward her brother. - - -

Brandy stood alone in the Hope Hollow Cemetery just as the sun was vanishing below the horizon. The headstone before her was polished gray granite, marked by a modest bouquet of now brown flowers.

Her excited breath turned to a puff of steam. “Honey, I'm sorry; I'll bring you some new flowers next time. I have to make this short because you know I'm not supposed to be here after sundown but I just had to tell you, Pickle and Barley, they finally got their cutie marks today.” She smiled weakly as her voice cracked.

“I don't know what it means yet but I'm so proud of them. I wish you could tell them that yourself because I know you would. They're growing up so fast.”

She looked up at the few brightest stars just coming out upon a canvas of navy blue.

“I should go now. I promise I'll come back soon.” - - -

That night the twins laid awake in their beds, finding it very difficult to shut off their brains.

“You know what?” whispered Barley at the ceiling. “I'm pretty sure our marks have nothing to do with being good at flying.”

“I know,” he agreed grimly. “That sucks.”

Barley wiped a tear from her eye. “Yeah… I always imagined it would happen right after we perfected some amazing routine and then we'd get cutie marks for that and then after we became Wonderbolts, they'd have our really cool marks on jerseys and hats and stuff but I don't know of any Wonderbolts who have cutie marks like this.”

“I can't think of anything less aerodynamic than a barrel,” grumbled Pickle. “Maybe we're actually not even that great at flying.”

Barley rolled over to look across the room at him in the dim blue moonlight. “But we're the best fliers at school,” she argued.

“There's forty-six foals at our school,” he sighed. “Only fifteen of them can even fly and most of them are younger than us. How can we really know? We might just be average.”

Barley’s stomach dropped at the thought. They'd been laboring under this fantasy of supreme aerial acrobatics for so long. It was all they ever wanted and to think that all their efforts and love was misplaced and all for naught shook her to the core.

“Rainbow Dash thinks we're good fliers,” she breathed.

Pickle rolled over to face the wall and redoubled his efforts to fall asleep. He kept thinking about what their cutie marks could mean even though there wasn't much to figure out. It was an infuriating jigsaw puzzle with only two pieces and they didn't fit together. He stewed in his own disillusionment over becoming a Wonderbolt or even a good flier but he was also blindsided as unexpected thoughts of feeling his sister's lips drifted into his mind. He knew she was his sister and they both had crushes on others but it still felt… nice and admitting that to himself made him uncomfortable. - - -

“Pickle, where are you?” called Brandy from the table. “Your breakfast is getting cold and you’re going to be late for school.”

The bedroom door creaked open and the colt emerged with a sigh. He came to the table with a conspicuous new article of clothing in addition to his usual red hoodie.

“What's with the pants?” asked Barley as her brother pulled out his chair.

“Are you trying to hide your cutie mark?” added their mother.

“Yeah,” he groaned indignantly.

“Why?”

“Because I don't want anyone asking me what it means because I don't know and it's probably something stupid anyway.”

She frowned. “Oh, honey, it's not stupid.”

“We don't even know, mom.”

“Everyone's gonna know anyway,” posed Barley. “They're gonna see mine and then they're gonna see you wearing pants which you never do.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, sliding out of his chair. He grudgingly kicked off his pants, leaving them in a pile under his spot. Then he got back in his seat and began thoughtlessly cramming food in his mouth.

“I know it's confusing and maybe even a little disappointing right now but you'll feel a lot better about everything when we figure out what it means.”

The twins said nothing.

“Did you write a letter to Rainbow Dash?”

“Yeah,” grunted Barley.

“You know, around seventy percent of ponies with cutie marks have a mark that corresponds literally with their name in some way,” offered Brandy in an attempt to comfort them.

“Well then I wish you had named me something cooler,” lamented Pickle bitterly.

“Pickle,” she gasped in hurt disbelief.

“Gonna be late,” he growled, jumping back out of his chair and snatching up his saddle bag. He fluttered out the front door without another word.

Barley finished her orange juice and followed in his hoofsteps but not before giving their mom a hug with a lackluster goodbye. She caught up with Pickle at the post office mailbox where he'd dropped off the letter bound for Ponyville.

“You shouldn't have said that,” she chided.

“It's true though,” he mumbled stubbornly. - - -

At school the twins got right into their desks and uncharacteristically didn't say a word to anyone before the bell rang and the chatter settled. For a while class just went on like normal as if nothing had happened. But after just halfway through the first period, the filly next door to Pickle took notice.

“You got your cutie mark,” whispered Shady Fern in astonishment, trying not to disrupt the lecture and get in trouble.

Pickle blushed, fighting the urge to cover his flank in embarrassment. He wished so badly that he’d gotten a lightning bolt or a cyclone instead. Something fast or powerful that would impress her.

“Yeah,” he nodded listlessly.

“That's great.”

“I guess,” he agreed tepidly.

By lunchtime, word had spread and everyone knew. The teacher usually made announcements about such things but the siblings downplayed their interest in calling attention to it which in some ways just made it weirder.

At recess, Barley left her sulking brother behind to go play on the field with Seafoam. Pickle sat alone against the wall, lost in worry again. Shady sat down, not next to him but near him. She was a pale copper green earth pony with orange braids that had green bows in them.

“You don't seem very happy today,” she began. “Is it about your cutie mark?

“Yeah,” he breathed.

“Why? What does it mean?”

“I don't know,” he shrugged. “But I don't think it's something I care about.”

Her expression darkened. “Oh… Maybe you'll learn to like whatever it is. Sometimes that's how it works.”

“I just wanted a cutie mark from flying well or… fast. Something to give me Wonderbolts cred because this doesn't do it at all. This looks like something an earth pony farmer was supposed to have. No offense. It's just not what I was expecting.”

“Having it doesn't make you a worse flier though,” she contended.

“I guess so,” he agreed.

“What's your favorite candy?”

He blinked in surprise and looked up at her. “What?”

“Your favorite candy. Mine’s those little dots that come on strips of paper and you bite them off.”

“Oh,” he laughed weakly. He scratched the back of his head. “Uh, I guess anything chocolate filled with peanut butter.”

“Okay.”

When he looked back at her she had left the wall and was running to the field. - - -

Almost two weeks had passed and they had not figured out the meaning of their cutie marks despite a trip to their small local library and humoring their mom's guessing game gauntlet of culinary adventures. They'd only shown mild interest and only achieved mild success in every project they’d tried under her direction. Whatever their cutie marks meant, it was reasonable to assume it didn't have to do with baking, cooking, canning or distilling.

Candy and cards for school's Hearts and Hooves Day laid on the counter. The family sat around the cluttered table, eating lunch around the aftermath of their latest cutie mark quest when there came a knock at the door. Everyone looked up but no one made a move to answer it.

“I'll get it,” sighed Barley, shuffling out of the kitchen. She pulled open the door a crack to see none other than her hero, Rainbow Dash grinning back at her.

“Hey, are ya busy?”

“Rainbow Dash,” she gasped, flinging the door wide. She reached out her forelegs for a hug.

It wasn't long before Pickle skittered out of the kitchen to see if it was true.

“Rainbow!” He latched himself onto her other side.

Their mother emerged from the kitchen lastly with slack-jawed delight. “Oh, you came all the way out here! What a nice surprise.”

“Hi, Brandy. Hope I'm not interrupting anything.” She looked down at the two foals in front of her. You’re not still having trouble figuring out your cutie marks, are you?”

“Uh-huh,” answered the twins in unison.

“I have good news for you then, ‘cuz I brought some cutie mark experts with me.” She stepped aside, revealing the three Cutie Mark Crusaders and the anchored purple hot air balloon they'd all flown there in.

They all waved sheepishly to one another.

“This is Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle and your fellow Rainbow Dash Fan Club member you've never met, Scootaloo. They're in the business of helping ponies achieve and understand their cutie marks. I told them about your problem and they jumped at the opportunity.”

“We're so happy to have you all,” replied Brandy. “Please come inside.”

The twins ran ahead into the living room. “C’mon,” they shouted excitedly.

Brandy walked alongside Rainbow and told her almost in tears, “I'm so glad you came. It really means a lot to them. Pickle has been taking this especially hard.”

“You don't need to worry any more,” promised Rainbow. “I have confidence we'll figure this out. My experts may be young but they have a great track record.”

It wasn't long before they were all standing in a circle in the living room and Brandy was back in the messy kitchen fetching everypony snacks.

“So let's see your cutie marks,” began Rainbow eagerly.

The twins turned and presented their marks for Rainbow and the Cutie Mark Crusaders. The fillies got in close, not really saying anything to them but still communicating with each other through pantomime and knowing looks.

Rainbow watched curiously over their heads.

“So what happened just before you got your cutie marks?” asked Sweetie Belle.

The siblings eyed each other warily.

“We weren't really doing anything,” began Barley. “At least not successfully. That's why this is so confusing. We were trying to do a synchronized aerial maneuver and then we ended up crashing in the dirt. Then we got up and our cutie marks appeared.”

Apple Bloom raised an eyebrow. “Is that really all that happened?”

“Well… I landed on top of Barley and… our lips touched,” admitted Pickle.

“And then you got yer marks?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you like your marks?” Rainbow asked directly.

“No,” groaned Pickle.

“I don't really like it either,” replied Barley.

“Why not?”

“I don't think we can be Wonderbolts with cutie marks like this.”

“That’s ridiculous,” scoffed Rainbow dismissively. “Sure, most Wonderbolts have weather or flying marks but there are plenty of strong fliers who don't have marks related to flying at all.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Being a Wonderbolt isn't out of reach just because you have a barrel on your flank. Thunderlane’s special talent is actually bowling but he's still in the Wonderbolts.”

Pickle and Barley exchanged tentatively hopeful glances. Then their mom came in with a tray of pretzels, carrots and juice, setting it down on the coffee table.

“So, do you know what it means?” asked Barley.

The Cutie Mark Crusaders looked at one another with measured expressions. “We think so,” nodded Apple Bloom. “But we wanna talk ta yer mom alone first.”

The twins looked at each other with wide-eyed astonishment.

“Well, hey, why don't you show me your training grounds,” suggested Rainbow.

“Yeah,” they agreed excitedly.

“I wanna see,” said Scootaloo with a mouthful of crushed pretzels.

“We can do some flying too,” added Barley.

“Alright.”

Sweetie and Apple Bloom nodded in approval and the four promptly filed out of the house, leaving Brandy alone with the two non pegasi.

The remaining Cutie Mark Crusaders sat together on the sofa with their juices.

The anxious mother took the edge of the chair across from them as she waited for the news. “You really know what it is? Just like that?”

“Yep,” nodded Sweetie. “This one was actually pretty straight forward. We've seen it before.”

“Well, what is it,” gasped Brandy in breathless anticipation.

Apple Bloom cleared her throat with a grim expression. “This may not be what you wanna hear but those matching cutie marks are a breeder bond. It means they're destined to be each other's special someponies and um… breed… a lot.”

Brandy blinked. “I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you right.”

Sweetie Belle yanked a book from her saddlebag, cracked it open and began magically flipping through the pages.

“Ah know this might come as a shock to ya but it's not as uncommon or strange as ya probably think it is. When a foal gets a namesake cutie mark mixed with the name of another relative, it means they're s'posed ta breed each other.”

Brandy possessed all the color and warmth of a marble statue. “I don't understand.”

Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle looked cautiously at each other.

“Barley and Pickle are s’posed ta have lots a sex and make lots a babies together. That's their destiny. That's what their cutie marks mean.”

“It's a nice euphemism for incest,” added Sweetie Belle, still looking through the book.

“No, I know what you meant by breeding but I've never heard of such a degenerate thing. Just breeding? That's it? And your own sibling no less?”

“Yup.”

Brandy threw up her forelegs. “How do I know you're right about this?”

“They got identical cutie marks that reference both of their names. The reason ya haven't found what they're good at is because the marks are referencing each other by name. It's not about the food at all. They got their marks at the same time after kissin’. There's not much else ya can infer ‘bout it once ya read all the signs.”

Deep down Brandy knew that already but didn't want to admit it.

“Look here,” said Sweetie, floating the book to the distraught mother.

Brandy took it and began skimming the section titled ‘Breeder Bond,’ which included an old photo of a pair of foals with identical cutie marks.

“Ah even seen it in mah family too,” continued Apple Bloom. “The cutie mark thing, that is. The incest isn't that big a deal once ya get over it. Even some of mah relatives who ain't bound by cutie marks have been known ta engage in incest, even breed. In fact mah parents are actually brother and sister but Ah was raised callin’ ‘em brother and sister and mah grandma and grandpa Ah call ma an’ pa.”

“I call my mom, ‘big sister’ too,” shrugged Sweetie. “And my dad is also my grandpa.”

Brandy bowed her head in shame. “But… What will the neighbors think? And they already have crushes on other ponies.”

“Well, now they’ll know exactly who they're supposed to be with,” explained Sweetie Belle. “Any relationships like that with other ponies are a waste of time and destined to end in heartbreak. It would be best to steer them away from that and toward each other. Cutie marks are never wrong.”

Apple Bloom nodded. “And get ‘em ta start breedin’ as soon as possible.”

“But they're still so young,” pleaded her mother.

“It may sound strange but the sooner they start, the better they'll feel ‘bout everything because they'll know they found their purpose. They wouldn't have the marks if they weren't ready yet.”

Brandy buried her face in her hooves. “I’m sorry. This is a lot to take in and it feels weird taking parenting advice from a foal.”

“Don't think of it as parenting advice,” replied Sweetie. “We're just giving you the information. It's still your job as the parent to do with it what you think is best. It's all there in the book.”

Apple Bloom finished her juice. “Mah sister suggested we do things like this from now on ‘cuz of a kinda awkward case we had where we told the filly first and there was a lotta confusion and it really upset everyone. Sometimes ya ferget how sensitive everypony is about this kinda stuff and if they don't understand, we shouldn't have ta be tha ones ta explain it.”

“Your sister… mom… suggested that?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“That was a good idea.” Brandy’s eyes fell to the floor as a thousand ugly and difficult thoughts consumed her from within.

“Do you have any questions fer us?”

“Why did this have to happen?” she asked rhetorically.

“Some things ‘bout cutie marks are probably always gonna be a mystery,” sighed Apple Bloom.

“I guess there's nothing to do but grin and bear it.” Brandy smiled unconvincingly. - - -

Rainbow and the Cutie Mark Crusaders stuck around visiting and training for a while. They had accomplished their mission but it was strange to make such a long trip and not spend time with them. But the longer they stayed, the antsier the twins got about learning their destiny. Everyone else knew what it was but they were being kept in the dark and it didn't make sense.

“Well, gotta get these three back to Ponyville or they're gonna miss school and Hearts and Hooves day. You should come visit us some time.”

“Then we could show you our clubhouse,” added Scootaloo.

The foals high hoofed goodbye.

Rainbow turned to Brandy and scratched her head awkwardly. “Well… good luck.”

The family waved goodbye from the ground as the balloon ascended. It didn't take long for the badgering to begin.

“Are you gonna tell us now?” blurted Pickle.

“Yeah, mom, what is it?” added her sister impatiently.

Brandy bit her lip as she continued to wave. “Okay… Let's just get inside the house first.”

The twins bolted inside immediately. Their mother turned to the door with a defeated sigh. She sat down in the living room before her two anxious children and took a deep breath.

“Your cutie marks don't have anything to do with food.”

“We know,” groaned Pickle. ‘We tried to tell you.”

“And you know I'll still love you no matter what cutie marks you have.”

The twins exchanged puzzled looks.

“Are we assassins?” gasped Pickle.

“Just tell us,” cried Barley.

“Your cutie marks are what they called a breeder bond. And that means that you're destined to be each other's special someponies but also…” she swallowed, “rut and make lots of foals.”

For a long time they all said nothing.

“Is this a joke?” Pickle finally asked. “Breeding? Just breeding? With my sister?”

“It all checks out,” argued their mother. “You got your cutie marks at the same time when you kissed and they're referencing both of your names put together. Just about everything they said was corroborated by the book they brought. There's really no other explanation.”

The conversation sputtered into silence again as this new grim reality sank in.

“I don't wanna have a cute-ceñera anymore,” mumbled Barley. - - -

Brandy stood before her late husband's headstone, pawing idly at the short, well kempt grass.

“So I have some good news and some… well… it's not… necessarily bad news… It's just kind of difficult to take.”

The twins laid awake in bed in much the same way they had when they first got their cutie marks. What kind of destiny was this? Didn't most cutie marks have some kind of usefulness that could be leveraged to craft a career from? What good was just being an incest foal factory?

Barley shook her head at the ceiling. “I can't believe this is what we're supposed to do? What do we tell our friends?”

“We tell them nothing,” Pickle shot back in alarm. “We make up a story and stick to it till our deathbeds.”

“Like what? They're about food?”

Pickle laughed weakly. “Like Rainbow said, we can be good at multiple things. We just need to practice and get good at something like that just to have a believable alibi.”

“Can we really still be Wonderbolts though?”

“I probably can,” replied Pickle. “But you're probably just going to be some stay at home broodmare though.”

“Shut up.”

Barley rolled over, still thinking about the improbabilities of everything and how their cutie marks had upended their whole lives. Not only that but now the seemingly inevitable prospect of getting rutted by her brother began to assault her brain. She didn't know much about that kind of stuff; neither of them did but somehow that act had apparently come to define their existence. She kept thinking back to that moment in the woods where he'd pinned her down with his lips on hers.