Feast of Love
© Scribbler, 2013.
‘The best love story is when you fall in love with the most unexpected person at the most unexpected time.’ -- Anonymous
“So are we all set?”
“Totally!”
“Completely!”
“A hundred percent!”
“A thousand percent!”
Rose frowned. “Can you have a thousand percent? I thought the whole point was that you only ever went up to a hundred?”
Daisy shrugged. “It’s not important. What IS important is that we’re ready.” She struck a pose, arching her neck in what she thought was an elegant stance. “Ready, willing and able!”
Rose giggled. “Totally!” She struck her own pose, a mirror of her friend’s. “Ready, willing and able!” When no third voice chimed in, she looked over her shoulder. “Lily?”
“Um …” Lily looked at herself in Rose’s full length mirror. She turned around to view the back of her dress doubtfully. “Are you sure about this? Not about going to the Feast but all … this?” She gestured at the jewellery on all four of her ankles, around her neck and strung about her ears. Rose and Daisy wore similar decorations, nothing but coloured glass but impressive nonetheless. Together they sparkled more than a fire in a diamond mine.
“It’s the latest fashion!” Rose said defensively. “I saw it in a magazine.” She dropped her posturing to come and stand behind Lily. Reaching around, she pulled up the corners of her friend’s mouth into a wide, fake smile. “Cheer up. You look totally amazing!”
“Really?” Never truly sure of herself, Lily continued to cast uncertain looks at the mirror in between trying to prise Rose’s hooves free. “Ow! That hurts!”
“Uh-huh. You’re going to knock every stallion’s socks off tonight. We all are.” Rose released Lily’s mouth and flung a determined hoof at the ceiling. “No more will we be known as the silly-scaredy-ponies!”
Daisy winced. “Do you have to remind us?” The name had followed them like a bad smell since their school days, when they had spent recesses huddled in the corner of the playground in case lightning struck the building or a herd of rampaging cattle swept through the schoolyard.
Rose continued unabated. “From tonight onwards, we’ll be known as the sultry-sexy-ponies!” She emphasised her words precisely. It was an aftereffect of self-help Iron Will–style. “Say it with me!”
Lily flinched. “Sultry? Sexy? Us?” Her eyes were riveted to the mirror and her own terrified face. “Me?” she added in a whisper.
“Yes, us.” Rose punched the air. “I’m sick of everypony always writing us off as frightened idiots. So what if we’re more cautious than everypony else? When they all get bitten by poisonous snakes, or eaten by manticores, or ensorcelled by zebras, we’ll be the ones laughing!”
“Yeah!” Daisy agreed. “They’ll know we were right to be sc- uh, cautious!”
“Um, yeah,” Lily said dully.
“But tonight isn’t for thinking about any of that. Tonight is the night we find …” Rose sucked in a breath, as if about to bellow, but released her next word in a puff of reverent breathiness. “Love!”
“Yeah!” Daisy squealed. “Ooh, I can’t wait! Come on, come on, come on! Let’s get going already!” She dashed for the door in a flurry of skirts and shiny things.
“Come on, Lily!” Buoyed by her own words, Rose followed her. “Ponyville’s stallions await us!”
Lily backed slowly away from the mirror. It didn’t matter how hard or long she looked into it. All that stared back was her own face. She had grown up looking at that face. It was not the face of a sultry, sexy, confident pony.
“Lily!”
“Uh, coming!” Shutting her eyes against the truth, she turned and bolted from the room.
“So this Spring is Sprung Feast thingummyjigger.” Braeburn head-butted the container of polished apples so it wouldn’t fall off. Seated inside the cart, Apple Bloom and Granny Smith hauled it towards the front where their hind hooves could keep it steady. “It’s a big deal?”
“Uh-huh!” Apple Bloom nodded enthusiastically. “There’s music an’ dancin’ an’ junk like that too, but the feast is the best part. Everypony in town brings food they cooked up special. You get to eat as much as you want all night and nopony says nuthin’!” Her smile said how much she had been looking forward to this. “I’m gonna have some of Bon-Bon’s Florentines, an’ a slice of Golden Harvest’s carrot cake, an’ some of Mayor Mare’s cookies, an’ a bowl of Fluttershy’s vegetable soup, an’ a double helpin’ of Miss Cheerilee’s chocolate puddin’. I had some puddin’ last year, but only a scoop, on account of it was all gone by the time I got to it because it was so good. Miss Cheerilee got crowned Feast Queen because of it! So this year I’m gonna be first an’ second in line!”
“You’ll burst if you eat that much.” Granny Smith ruffled her mane gently, being careful to avoid the ringlets she had spent a chunk of the afternoon carefully curling.
Apple Bloom looked so much like old pictures of Braeburn’s own Grammy Apple Rose he had to keep reminding himself she wasn’t a photo come to life. All the Apples were scrubbed up for the evening’s festivities and Big Macintosh had even finished work early in honour of the occasion.
“What’re you gonna eat, Big Macintosh?” Apple Bloom swivelled in her seat, all but bouncing in her eagerness to be off.
Hitched to the front of the cart, Big Macintosh thought for a moment. “Apple pie,” he said eventually.
Apple Bloom pulled a face. “Granny’s apple pie?”
“Yup.”
“But you can eat that anytime you want!”
“Yup.” He nodded. “It’s my favourite.”
“But what about all the other things? I didn’t even list half of ‘em. Don’t you wanna try any?”
“Maybe.”
Apple Bloom made a frustrated noise. “Every year you do this. How the heck can you go to the Spring is Sprung Feast and never eat nuthin’ fancy? T’ain’t right.” She lifted her head to look back up the back to the farmhouse. “Where the hay is Applejack already? We’ve been waitin’ a million years.”
“Not so many as all that,” Granny Smith cautioned. “Don’t go exaggeratin’.”
“But Granny!” Apple Bloom whined. “She’s takin’ forever!”
Braeburn backed up a step. “Mayhap I should go check on her,” he offered. He felt like a spare part. They had gone to this feast thing every year and knew exactly what to do and what to expect. He had been raised away from the Ponyville homestead and then moved to Appleloosa without spending more than a few days here at a time. It was only Granny Smith’s kind offer and Grammy Apple Rose’s hoof up his backside that had got him to come stay here at all.
“You spend too much time workin’, niblet,” Grammy had told him as she packed his suitcase and all but shoved him onto the train. “This town won’t fall apart just because you ain’t here to catch the pieces.”
He got the feeling she and her favourite cousin had been conspiring for a while to send him to Ponyville, especially after the Appleloosa doctor told him he had passed out in the salt bar from working too hard. The irony of sending him to rest at Sweet Apple Acres, home of the hardest working ponies in all Equestria, did not escape him. Braeburn had resented being shunted around like a sack of grain, loaded and unloaded at other ponies’ whims, but could not deny that the stress of helping make Appleloosa a viable township had taken its toll on him. As an Apple and a stallion, he felt personally responsible for a lot of things he shouldn’t have and the town had been content to let him get on with it until he couldn’t get on anymore.
Even Little Strongheart had looked at him with worry during the last powwow with the buffalo. As Sherriff Silverstar and Chief Thunderhooves had talked, she had taken Braeburn to one side and asked if he was all right.
“Mighty fine, thanks,” he had replied with a dash of irritation.
“You do not look fine,” she had said, watching him dubiously. Okay, so maybe his coat had lost some of its lustre. And, okay, maybe a few strands of his name and tail had fallen out from stress. That was the same for everypony, right? It was to be expected when you built a town from scratch in the middle of an inhospitable desert and had to make sure everypony in it survived and was happy. “You look worn out. Have you been working too hard again?”
“I work as much as I need to.”
“Your family has a habit of working itself to the bone even when it is not necessary.” Little Strongheart had met his expression with a wave of her hoof. “Your Grammy Apple Rose makes excellent conversation over a hot pie and mug of sweet tea. I have heard many stories of Apples taking on too much by themselves.”
“You’ve been speakin’ to Grammy? My Grammy?”
“Well, actually she dragged me into her house the last time I was in Appleloosa and demanded to know if I was challenging you to races across the desert. She thought that was why you looked so ‘gosh darn awful’. Those were her exact words. Now I see you for myself, I must agree with her. You do look gosh darn awful.”
“Darn females talkin’ behind a guy’s back,” Braeburn had complained. “I’m fine, of only everyone would leave me alone to do what needs to be done.”
“But you think everything that needs to be done must be done by you.”
“Not everythin’.”
The look Little Strongheart had given him had shut him up. She clearly didn’t believe him. Moreover, she was worried about him. At the time he had felt nothing but annoyance and a desire to be left to his own devices. He knew what was what. Three days later the sheriff invited him out for a salt-lick and the whole bar fell into uproar when Braeburn toppled off his stool in a dead faint and wouldn’t wake up even when they threw water in his face. The doctor diagnosed exhaustion, prescribed a vacation and Grammy Apple Rose couldn’t buck him onto the train to Ponyville fast enough.
Now here he was, attending his first Spring is Sprung Feast and feeling like a dang fool for ever thinking his family was irritating and interfering. They did interfere, but only because they cared. His irritation had evaporated when he stepped onto the platform at Ponyville station and his big, tough, gruff cousin had swept him into a bone-crushing hug. Big Macintosh hadn’t put him down until Applejack poked him in the ribs, whereupon Braeburn had staggered into her embrace too.
“Dang fool,” she had murmured into his ear. “Didn’t you learn nuthin’ from me?”
“Nice to see you too,” he had replied breathlessly.
“Apple Rose said you darn near killed yourself tryin’ to do everypony in Appleloosa’s job – greeter, builder, rancher, farmer, law-enforcer, cleaner–”
“Grammy talks too much.”
“An’ you’re still a dang fool.” Applejack had held him away from her and smiled shrewdly. “But you’re sure an Apple through and through.”
That was three weeks ago. Braeburn had settled into his enforced vacation with only a few bumps in the road. Nopony let him help out in the orchard and Granny Smith had threatened to nail his hooves to the floor if he tried to sneak out.
“Apple Rose is my favourite cousin and I aim to send her favourite grandson back in better condition than she sent him to me, dang it!”
“You know she ain’t really my grandmother, right?” Braeburn had sulked as she forced him into an easy chair and pushed a mint julep into his hoof. “Everypony in Appleloosa calls her Grammy.”
“Hush your mouth, you.”
Now he stepped through the front door and looked around. There was no sign of anypony. “Applejack?” he bellowed. “You around? Apple Bloom’s fair ready to come in here an’ buck you into the cart.”
“I’m comin’, I’m comin’.” The trip-trap of hooves down the stairs alerted him to his wayward cousin’s location. Braeburn swung to face her and his mouth dropped open. “I ain’t no good at this whole primpin’ and prettifyin’ thing. Do I look okay?”
“Okay?” Braeburn laughed. “You look amazin’!” He couldn’t believe it. His workaholic, dusty-hooved, unladylike cousin had transformed into a mare whose beauty, while not up to Princess Celestia standards, would be enough to turn almost any stallion’s head. Her mane and tail had been brushed to a golden shine, her eyes had been carefully treated with mascara and, while she still wore her hat, she had diligently cleaned off all the dirt until it looked like new. Her outfit, however, was what really caught him attention. “Where the heck did you catch a get-up like that?”
“My friend Rarity made it for me when we went to the Grand Gallopin’ Gala.” Applejack looked down at herself. “Looks a treat, don’t it?”
“Finer than frog hair,” Braeburn agreed.
“Applejaaaaaaaack!” Apple Bloom’s plaintive voice floated to them from outside. “Braebuuuuuurn! Come ooooooooooon!”
“I guess she really wants that there puddin’,” Braeburn observed.
Applejack rolled her eyes and trotted past him. “You don’t know the half of it. She ain’t shut up about the darn stuff since Winter Wrap Up.”
“All right!” Rose strode towards the town square with purpose. “We drop off our food at the Feast Table and then canvass the crowd for suitable dance partners. Sound like a plan?”
“Sounds good to me.” Daisy skipped along beside her. The dress she was wearing looked like gigantic petals in soft white fabric, each layered so she looked like she had shrunk to the size of a fairy and was wearing an actual upended Michaelmas daisy.
Rarity certainly had outdone herself with their dresses. They had gone in together a month earlier to order them, standing tail-to-tail for courage against the sheer opulence within. Galvanised by each other’s support, they had stood by their decision to go with their usual flower theme. Rarity had been sceptical and mentioned the word ‘chintzy’, which none of them had understood, but if chintzy meant this kind of wonderful then they were happy to be chintzy!
Or at least Rose and Daisy were. Their dresses had lent them the courage of fairytale princesses convinced their prince charmings were only a pretty lullaby away. Lily trailed behind them, glancing left and right in search of ponies hiding their laughter behind polite hooves. She felt ridiculous. Rose suited the string of tiny rubies Rarity had threaded into her headdress and Daisy’s citrines completed her look like the yellow centre of a blossom, but Lily was still unconvinced the amount of glitz bedecking her looked right. She felt like a filly playing around in her mother’s jewellery box. She would have been happier wearing a simple shift and her usual white namesake behind her ear. She could have faded into the crowd much more easily that way.
“Okay!” Rose nosed open a place amongst the other dishes. The Feast Table was actually several dozen trestle tables placed end to end bordering the town square. White tablecloths disguised the joins where one met another but it had been years since anyone tried to prettify them with floral arrangements or centrepieces. As ever, this year the table was once again heaving with good things to eat as far as the eye could see, yet Lily’s nerves were so bad she couldn’t even think about food. “Daisy, you put your fairy cakes here, next to mine. Lily, you put your … Lily? Lily!”
“Hmm?”
“Pay attention.” Rose pointed. “Put your tortilla casserole here.”
Lily blinked in dismay. “Next to Cheerilee’s chocolate pudding?”
“Of course.”
“But everypony will be coming over to try some of that!”
“And?”
Lily hid her face behind her casserole. Inside the glass dish tortilla chips stuck out of the mix of red salsa and crushed chips like little orange volcanoes rising out of a boiling ocean. It was embarrassingly simple, since she wasn’t a good cook and hadn’t wanted to embarrass herself trying (and failing) to make something complicated. Instead she was apparently going to embarrass herself by putting her meagre offering next to the dish of last year’s Feast Queen. “Everypony will see how pathetic mine is next to Cheerilee’s.”
“They won’t think it’s stupid.” Daisy rubbed Lily’s back encouragingly. “We don’t think it’s stupid whenever we come over to your place for game night. Remember how we always fight over the last tortilla?”
“But –”
“Do you actually care what other ponies think of your cooking?” Rose wanted to know. “Were you trying to impress them when you made that?”
“Well, no, but –”
“Iron Will’s latest book says not to concentrate on what you can’t do, but concentrate on what you can do. And I can do this!” Lily squeaked as Rose plucked the dish from her hooves and put it firmly next to the chocolate pudding. “There. Pride of place, exactly where it should be. Remember what we said about tonight? Tonight is about us not being the silly-scaredy-ponies anymore.”
“I know, but …” Lily faltered. She felt like everypony was looking at her and she hated it. They were probably all thinking how ridiculous she looked. When they saw her food they would think how foalish it was next to the complex layers of sponge, chocolate sauce, vanilla crème and wafer that made up Cheerilee’s deceptively named ‘chocolate pudding’. “How come you two are acting so brave tonight? This isn’t like you.”
“The power of positive thinking,” said Daisy. “And Iron Will’s new book. Rose got it in the mail on Saturday and read it from cover to cover twice before Sunday evening.”
Rose nodded, a slightly belligerent expression on her face. “I’m sick of everypony thinking we’re nothing but frightened fillies in mare’s clothing. So I spent every morning this week standing in front of my mirror saying my self-confidence mantra a hundred times before I left for my market stall.”
“Self-confidence mantra?” Lily echoed.
Rose nodded. “Uh-huh. Iron Will’s book says the power of repetition is the power of competition, and the only way to win at life is to win the competition for self-belief. You have to invent your own power mantra and use it to build yourself up until you can take on the world and put it in a headlock.”
Lily watched her with rounded eyes. “That doesn’t sound at all like you, Rose.”
“Good.” Rose looked inordinately pleased, as if Lily had just paid her a wonderful compliment. “I guess Iron Will’s self-help lessons are working. You should try it, Lily. You can use my mantra if you like: ‘I am not a silly-scaredy-pony and I won’t do things that make ponies think of me that way anymore’. It’s very empowering.”
“I don’t know …”
“Try it,” Daisy urged. “I’ve been saying it to myself every morning since Wednesday and every evening before I go to bed, too.”
“It works?”
“You won’t know unless you try it.” Rose pushed her no-bake blobs of pistachio, vegetables and rosewater onto the Feast Table next to the tortilla casserole. She was an even worse cook than Lily, yet she had tried something new and it had turned out well enough that she had given the blobs the vainglorious name ‘Heavenly Bites’. “Keep saying it to yourself as we canvass for dance partners. I bet you any money you’ll have the confidence to go up and ask somepony for a dance.”
Lily’s eyes rounded. “I’d never be able to do that!” Ask somepony to dance with her? When she would probably just step all over his hooves and fall on her face – or worse, fall over and tear her dress so everypony looked at her? She shook her head.
“Try it.” Rose bumped her left shoulder against Lily’s right one. “What have you got to lose?”
“I … I …” Lily had to concede. “Nothing, I guess.”
“Totally!” Rose’s smile was brilliant and only a little strained at the edges, indicating how brittle her self-confidence was despite her claims of Iron Will’s literary eminence. “Say it out loud. Go on.”
“I, uh, am not a silly-scaredy-pony and I won’t –”
“Louder, Lily!”
“I am not a silly-scaredy-pony and I won’t do things that make ponies think of me that way anymore.”
“Too quiet! Let them hear you in the cheap seats!”
“I am not a silly-scaredy-pony and I won’t do things that make ponies think of me that way anymore!”
“Better.” Rose nodded and the two of them fell into step beside Lily. “Come on, girls. Let’s get to it. You just keep saying that mantra to yourself, Lily.”
Feeling silly, Lily continued to mutter as they advanced on the crowd of gathered ponies. “I am not a silly-scaredy-pony and I won’t do things that make ponies think of me that way anymore. I am not a silly-scaredy-pony and I won’t do things that make ponies think of me that way anymore. I am not a silly-scaredy-pony and I won’t do things that make ponies think of me that way …”
“Whoo-wee! There’s an even better spread than last year!” Applejack surveyed the Feast Table. Without even looking, she stuck out a hoof to stop Apple Bloom launching herself at it.
“Aw, Applejack!”
“Mind your manners. Granny ain’t even down off the cart yet an’ we gotta add our own food before we can sample anypony else’s.” Applejack nodded at the barrel of apples, tray of apple fritters, container of misshapen apple and oatmeal cookies, plus the four gigantic apple pies nestling in the back of the cart. Each member of the Apple family had provided his or her own contribution with varying complexity.
Apple Bloom pulled a face but didn’t argue. Instead she returned to the cart and sheepishly held up her hooves to her grandmother. “I’ll help you, Granny.”
“That’s mighty sweet of you, honey, but Braeburn’s a hair taller for helpin’ my old bones get offa this thing.”
“Happy to oblige, ma’am.” Braeburn helped her alight on the ground and tipped his hat back, a little impressed he had been allowed to do that much. He watched Apple Bloom hop from hoof to hoof excitedly and reach for the cookies she and her friends had made the day before. He knew Applejack was right to make her wait and fulfil her responsibilities first, but she looked so gosh darn sweet it was all he could do not to tell her to run along and fill her tummy already. He suspected it would be more than full by the end of the night and she would learn a valuable lesson about the size one’s appetite compared with the capacity of one’s stomach.
“We’ll put the food down, Apple Bloom,” said Applejack, taking the cookies from her. “You go help unhitch Big Macintosh after he’s parked the cart with the others.” She nodded at the line of brightly painted carts and wagons next to a string of poplar trees on the far side of the town square. Ponies in high-visibility vests guided more in, their movements incongruously graceful for such a mundane task. “Then the evenin’ is yours to do with what you like.”
Apple Bloom cheered and ran circles around both her brother and the cart.
“She’s happier than a puppy with two tails! Is that there puddin’ really so good?” Braeburn asked as he fetched down one apple pie. It was bigger than his whole head and smelled heavenly, though he would never tell Grammy Apple Rose. If there was one thing she and her favourite cousin were at loggerheads about, it was whose apple pies were best. Woe betide the pony who got involved in THAT conflict.
“It ain’t really my thing,” Applejack admitted. “Too much chocolate for me, but I guess the evidence speaks for itself. She was crowned Feast Queen because of it.”
“Yeah, I heard. What’s that mean?”
“She got a crown an’ a dance with the stallion of her choice, who wasn’t allowed to say no, an’ her name’s in the town records for future generations to see.” Applejack’s gaze skittered briefly to her brother, making Braeburn wonder exactly who the schoolteacher had chosen as her dance partner. Applejack barrelled on without stopping or confirming the nature of the look. “Got her picture in the paper an’ everythin’, plus a lil’ trophy she had to give back to the mayor a couple days ago ready for some other pony to be crowned this year. It sat in pride of place on her mantelpiece all these last twelve months.”
“Sounds like a sweet deal.”
“Yup.”
“She was the prettiest Feast Queen ever!” Apple Bloom declared loyally. She skidded to a halt in front of her sister. “Are you guys done unloading yet?”
“Almost, sugar-cube.” Applejack dragged the barrel of apples that were Big Macintosh’s contribution to the edge. Nopony could accuse him of being a whizz in the kitchen but he had scoured all their latest crop for the biggest, reddest, juiciest apples to put in the barrel. Applejack pushed away Braeburn’s helping hooves. “Never you mind tryin’ to heft this heavy ol’ thing. You’re meant to be restin’, mister.”
“I’m plenty rested,” he protested. “That’s too heavy for one pony to lift down alone.”
“I can handle it,” Applejack replied stubbornly. She paced a little from one side of the cart to the other, making the whole thing shake under her shifting weight. She was looking for a way to lower it without falling off herself from leaning down. “It’s just a matter of balance.”
“No it ain’t. It’s a two-pony job. Let me help –”
“Nu-uh!”
“Granny Smith.” He turned to the ancient mare. “Tell her to let me help her.”
“I reckon she’s right, young ‘un. You ain’t s’posed to be doin’ nuthin’ so strenuous.” Granny Smith nodded at something over his shoulder. “I also reckon she ain’t gonna do it alone neither.” Before she had even finished speaking, a soft purple haze surrounded the barrel and lifted it effortlessly off the cart. The barrel floated to beside the Feast Table, where it settled on the ground. “See?”
“Twilight!” Applejack said in delight.
Braeburn turned to look.
“Hi, Applejack.” Twilight Sparkle stepped lightly towards them, her horn still glowing. Braeburn remembered her from her time in Appleloosa and had spoken with her a few times since arriving in Ponyville. She had seemed a lot more distracted here than out west. Every time he had seen her she had been walking along with some book or other floating in front of her nose, making him wonder whether unicorns had some extra sense that allowed them not to crash into walls or fall down holes while reading and walking at the same time. “Hi Granny Smith, Apple Bloom, Big Macintosh, Braeburn.” Twilight nodded to each in turn. “Need some help?”
“Wouldn’t say no to you, sugar-cube.” Applejack hopped down off the cart and gestured to the remaining food. “Would you mind transportin’ these here vittles over to that there table?”
In response, Twilight’s horn glowed brighter and the three gigantic pies, tray of fritters and final plate levitated through the air. The pies and fritters found places instantly, but the last plate hovered while she unpacked the cookies and then a little longer while she examined its contents.
“What’s this?” Twilight asked. “I don’t I’ve ever seen this dish from you guys before.”
“That’s because Braeburn made it,” Apple Bloom informed her.
“What is it?”
“He called it an Apple Twist.”
“It’s just some apples, sweet batter an’ custard baked in a flan base,” Braeburn explained. “Plus some burnt brown sugar on top. Nuthin’ special or especially skilled. Grammy Apple Rose taught me how to make it when I was a colt.”
“A stallion who bakes?” Twilight smiled. “And I thought Mr. Cake was the only one. I guess he’s got some competition.”
Braeburn had tasted some of the pastries to come out of Sugar Cube Corner and snorted. “My lil’ effort can’t compare with his work.” He frowned as something occurred to him. “Hey, Applejack, how come Mr or Mrs. Cake don’t win that there Feast crown thing every year? She makes some mean desserts.”
“Nopony can win more than once,” Applejack explained. “Keeps it fair. Like I said, everypony who does win gets their picture an’ name recorded in the town archives, so they become part of the history of Ponyville. Granny Smith won it when she was my age.”
“My apple pie’s still a keeper,” Granny Smith announced smugly. “Right, Big Macintosh?”
“Yup!”
“Can we pleeeease hurry up?” Apple Bloom pleaded. “Please?”
“Yup.” Big Macintosh dragged the cart away and she skipped eagerly after him.
“I’d get out of her way when she comes back,” Applejack advised. “Hey, Twilight, have you seen any of the others?”
“Rarity arrived earlier.”
“She bring gem cookies?”
“How did you guess?”
Applejack sighed. “She always baked gem cookies on account of it’s the only thing she can make. All she gotta do is mash some cookies dough on a tray an’ add some of those lil’ coloured sugar crystals Pinkie Pie sells, but she insists on toppin’ ‘em with those silver sugar ball bearin’ things. I keep tellin’ her that one day those things are gonna break somepony’s tooth but she always makes ‘em anyhow.” She raised a hoof to cup her mouth and whisper: “Just between you, me an’ the open barn door, our Rarity ain’t exactly a whizz in the kitchen. More than once I’ve had to swallow burnt food I’d have thrown out if I’d made ‘em myself. She’d sooner order in meals than make ‘em with her own hooves.”
“Oh.” Twilight nodded. “Well, her cookies looked really nice. I wonder if Derpy helped her to bake them this year. I guess that would explain why they arrived together.”
“They did what?” Applejack looked confused.
“Yes, I saw them earlier. Derpy was carrying a big basket of muffins as her Feast contribution. Say what you will about her clumsiness, she makes really good muffins.”
Granny Smith snorted but turned it into a chuckle when they all looked at her. “Sorry, I got a sudden image of what her kitchen must look like after she’s been bakin’. About the same as when Big Macintosh has been in ours, I reckon.”
Applejack shook her head in surprise. “When butter my butt an’ call me a biscuit. I didn’t even know Rarity knew Derpy Hooves, much less saw her socially.” She sounded a little impressed. “Which way did they go?”
“Uh …” Twilight hesitated.
“Never mind, sugar-cube. We’ll find ‘em, an’ the others too if we’re lucky. I just hope Pinkie Pie steered clear of her explodin’ candy from last year.”
“Don’t you mean popping candy?”
“No,” Applejack said ruefully. “I mean explodin’’.”
Braeburn felt like a spare part again. He knew Applejack didn’t mean to, but in seeing her friend she had moved the conversation to a place he couldn’t follow. He neither knew this Derpy character nor understood why his cousin was reacting this way to her name. He glanced around, wondering if he was supposed to go with her and Twilight to look for their friends, when Granny Smith placed a comforting hoof against his side.
“Don’t you worry none, young ‘un. You can stick with me while these girls go off fripperyin’ and flappin’ their gums like a pair of toothless cats facin’ a fan.” She made a shooing gesture. “Go on, you two. We’ll see y’all when we see y’all.”
“Thanks, Granny.” Applejack followed Twilight into the crowd, chattering animatedly as she went. It was nice to see her relax for a change. She really did work too hard and had been extra stressed lately trying to keep Braeburn from helping out. She looked really pretty tonight and deserved to dance with as many ponies as would make her happy. Stallions were already performing double-takes as she and twilight passed by. They, too, were surprised by how well she scrubbed up.
“Now,” said Granny Smith. She rubbed her hooves together, eyes gleaming. “You just come with me, kiddo.”
“Where to?” Sudden apprehension made the back of Braeburn’s neck prickle. Something else Grammy shared with her favourite cousin, in addition to the best apple pies in Equestria, was a cunning sense of humour than not everypony else could understand – or appreciate when they were being dragged into it.
“You’ll see.” Granny Smith all but dragged him away from the Feast Table, which was just as well, because a few seconds later a small yellow and red blur raced towards it, headed directly for the chocolate pudding.
“Well shoot.” Daisy sat down heavily and fanned her face with one hoof. “This sucks.”
“Sucks royally,” Rose agreed. “I just can’t understand it. What are we doing wrong? We have the dresses and right attitude but those stallions almost ran away from us.”
Lily had watched her friends be shot down. Though they had picked themselves up and soldiered on, it had done nothing for her own self confidence. She still hadn’t worked up the level of courage they were showing, even though she kept muttering the mantra they had told her. It did not make her magically more confident or beautiful. Instead, she felt less attractive than ever.
Coming across Rarity only increased the sense of inadequacy roiling in her stomach. The elegant unicorn had opted for understated jewellery and a deep coloured dress. Basically she had on the total opposite of what they were wearing. Since Rarity was the foremost voice for fashion in Ponyville, that could only mean they had got things badly, badly wrong. No wonder Rarity had tried to dissuade them from being chintzy – the word probably meant awful! How stupid they must look. Everypony was probably laughing at them right this very minute! Lily wanted to go home, pull the dress off and dig in her garden until she felt better. She had installed extra lights outside so she could work out there of an evening for just such a reason. You never knew when you needed a bolthole and something to do to distract yourself while you were there.
“We could go home,” she suggested timorously.
Rose and Daisy stared at her, aghast. They didn’t need to say anything. They had been looking forward to tonight and did not want it cut short. Lily lowered her head in defeat.
“I am not a silly-scaredy-pony and I won’t do things that make ponies think of me that way anymore,” she muttered desperately to herself. “I am not a silly-scaredy-pony and I won’t do things that make ponies think of me that way anymore. I am not –”
“Hey look!” Daisy indicated. “Isn’t that Derpy Hooves?”
Rose and Lily followed the line of her hoof. “It is,” Rose agreed, mouth wide with surprise. “How the heck did SHE manage to snag Time Turner?”
“They’re only talking,” Lily pointed out. “I don’t think that qualifies as ‘snagging’ him. They could just be, um, discussing the weather or something.”
“Derpy discussing the weather? Only if she’s discussing how she messed it up again.” Rose wasn’t trying to be cruel, but she was frustrated at her own continued lack of success and it made her tongue sharper than usual. It was a good thing she was too far away for either Derpy or Time Turner to overhear. “Honestly, how the hay did a pony like her get a stallion to stand still for five minutes and we can’t?”
“Maybe she’s –”
“Ooh, there’s Pokey Pierce!” Daisy interrupted Lily. “He always loves to dance – and there’s nopony with him! I’m going to go ask him.” She drew herself up and declared, “I am not a silly-scaredy-pony and I won’t do things that make ponies think of me that way anymore.”
“Right on!” Rose punched the air in praise as her friend trotted over to the blue unicorn with the safety pin cutie mark.
Both she and Lily watched as he looked up from the half-eaten muffin he was holding, cheeks bulgy. Undeterred, Daisy spoke to him and his eyes grew just as bulgy. He nodded enthusiastically, deposited the half-eaten muffin on a nearby bench and followed her like an overeager puppy.
“Success!” Rose crowed, delighted even though the success wasn’t her own. “Operation Sultry Sexy Ponies is making headway.”
“It’s actually called that?”
“Well, no, but doesn’t it sound better than Operation No More Silly Scaredy Ponies?”
Lily made a face. “Does it have to have a name at all? Can’t we just call it ‘having a nice evening out’?”
Rose made a face too. “Iron Will’s book says you should face each day like an opponent you have to beat into submission and the first step is formulating an effective plan of attack. Plans of attack always have cool sounding names. C’mon, let’s mingle. Maybe we can get as lucky as Daisy.”
Braeburn never would have guessed what Granny Smith was up to. You didn’t look at the kindly, wizened old mare and instantly think ‘cupid’. So when he was introduced to (or rather thrust at) the granddaughter of Nana Knits, one of Granny’s friends (a harridan with a face like an grumpy manticore) he momentarily faltered (had no clue what to do) and fell to trying unsuccessfully to introduce himself (stuttering like an idiot while trying politely to remove his hat).
“Howdy, Miss, uh …” He hesitated at her name.
“Blossomforth,” she informed him. She was a pretty white pegasus with a green and pink mane that should have looked garish but somehow worked. A spray of freckles and bright blue eyes completed the filly-next-door look. She was younger than him, though he couldn’t tell by how much and was too much of a gentlecolt to guess.
Very few pegasi lived in Appleloosa, so Braeburn still had trouble reconciling his vision of them as valiant warriors with the reality. Growing up in a nomadic wagon on the prairie, where no pegasi made their home, Braeburn’s sole knowledge of them came from stories about Commander Hurricane and the founding pegasi of Cloudsdale, alongside the occasional encounter during the family reunions in Ponyville. During those he would watch the little brightly coloured specks in the sky push clouds to and fro occasionally bucking bolts of lightning from them, and would come away with an impression of pegasi as powerful creatures who rarely interacted with the ponies bound by gravity to the ground. Though he knew different now, it was difficult to reteach yourself something you’ve held as fact for so long. So when Blossomforth spoke, he found himself utterly unable to think of anything worthwhile to say.
“And your name is?”
“Uh, Apple. I mean Braeburn!”
“Humph. A pony who doesn’t even know his own name?” Nana Knits’s innocuous yarn-ball cutie mark belied her sour expression and the lines in her face that said it was her default one. “You say he’s family of yours, Smithy?”
“An’ a better class of pony you ain’t never likely to meet, Knitsy.”
“I’ll reserve judgement on that score.”
“I can vouch for him.”
“I recall you vouching for Apple Strudel the last time he was in town, too.”
“Ain’t you ever gonna forget that?” Granny Smith groaned. “He goosed ya once, Knitsy, an’ a long time ago to boot! You should take it as a compliment. Ain’t nopony thought my rump was nice enough to goose in years.”
Nana Knits harrumphed as if the mere idea of having an admirable rump was offensive.
Granny Smith winked at Braeburn. “You two young folk move along now an’ get to know each other a lil’ better. Blossomforth, sweetie, why don’t you show Braeburn around? He’s visitin’ from Appleloosa an’ this is his first Ponyville Spring is Sprung Feast.”
“Cool,” Blossomforth said sweetly. “How about it, Braeburn?”
“Uh, yeah. Cool.” Not a word he used very often, but it seemed to please her.
She trotted away and he followed, leaving Granny Smith to converse strenuously with Blossomforth’s grandmother. The two old mares waved their hooves about like they were guiding in air traffic on a foggy day. Nana Knits was evidently not pleased to let Blossomforth go off unsupervised with a stallion she didn’t know.
“Come on,” Blossomforth said over her shoulder. “Quick, before she gives chase.”
Braeburn laughed nervously.
“I’m not kidding. She’d do it. I’ve seen her tackle ponies to the ground if she thinks they’re trying it on.”
“Tryin’ it on?” It wasn’t a phrase Braeburn had heard before and it took him a moment to figure out what she meant. “Oh!”
“Uh-huh,” Blossomforth said flatly. “Let’s push some scenery behind us, eh?”
They wended their way through the crowd until they were on the other side of the town square. There they stopped. Milling feasters concealed them from the old ponies’ view, whereupon the last of Blossomforth’s sweet smile faded and she instead looked at him blankly, as it she had pulled an invisible cork out of her chin and her expression had drained out of it.
“Look, I don’t mean to offend or anything, but this wasn’t my idea.”
“Mine neither,” Braeburn replied. He hadn’t even known what was going on until it was too late. “But I guess we’ll have to make the best of it.”
“Yeah, see, that’s the thing.” Blossomforth’s gaze settled somewhere over his shoulder. “I actually wanted to spend tonight with somepony in particular, only my grandma wouldn’t agree to it because she’s a total prude and I live in her house so I kinda have to do what she says, so I went along with this just so I could get away from her, y’know?”
“Uh …”
“You understand, right? I mean, you saw her. Heck, you heard her!”
“Uh …”
“Sure you understand. Granny Smith said you’re a great guy.” She shot him a brilliant, if slightly insincere smile. “As soon as I saw you I thought ‘there’s somepony who’ll help a girl out of a jam so her whole evening isn’t totally ruined’. I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Uh …”
“Cool. Listen, thanks for helping me out. I appreciate it. Now I gotta go. See ya!”
“Uh …”
She dashed past him towards a pegasus mare whose blue coat was almost grey in the dim light of the alleyway in which she was hiding. A nearby lamppost had been festooned with bunting and small lights, which gave just enough illumination for Braeburn to see that while her mane was pink, her tail was bright yellow. It was rare for anypony to have mismatching mane and tail, so his attention was caught out of curiosity even though he sensed he should be feeling insulted and maybe a bit used. His attention stayed caught like clothing on a barbwire fence when Blossomforth greeted the other mare with a passionate kiss and the pair flew off down the alley without a backwards glance.
Braeburn stayed exactly where he was, processing what he had just seen. Well now, he thought to himself. There’s sumthin’ you don’t see every day in Appleloosa. It occurred to him that he had just been dumped and he let out a low whistle. Introduction to dumpin’ in under five minutes. That’s gotta be some sorta record.
Not wanting to return to the old mares and admit what Blossomforth had done, he instead walked further into the crowd. He caught sight of Rarity, the white unicorn he had met during Applejack’s visit to Appleloosa. She was dragging Twilight out onto the dance floor where they both kicked up a good time with varying degrees of grace. There was no sign of Applejack, even though she had been with Twilight when he saw her last. Braeburn wondered where his cousin could have got to, but Rarity and Twilight held his attention and he figured wherever she was, she was old enough to look after herself.
Rarity was one of those ponies who just seemed to ooze poise without trying, while Twilight dancing resembled a gazelle trying to run on three broken legs. Braeburn paused, Blossomforth and her mystery mare still fresh in his mind. After a moment he shook his head and turned to trot away.
T’ain’t none of my business.
Lily was wondering whether she could drown herself in the punch bowl when Rose pulled up sharply. Trailed along behind her, Lily nearly head-butted her in the rear and only stopped herself by veering left and treading on the hem of her own dress. She heard the tiniest sound of ripping fabric, negligible really, but it sounded loud to her ears. That was all she needed: to ruin a dress that was much too good for her anyway without having worn it even a full evening.
“Hey, Lily, do you know that stallion’s name?”
Lily looked up from trying to spot the rip to see a dark blue stallion with an even darker mane striding through the crowd. He had elected to wear a tuxedo and despite his ridiculously lacquered mane he looked rather dapper. You could certainly tell he had put effort into his appearance tonight – so much so that it took Lily a moment to recognise him.
“That’s Noteworthy. Doesn’t he look different tonight?”
“That’s Noteworthy?” Rose echoed. Shock coated her words like a layer of frost, which rapidly melted when she looked back and surveyed him with new eyes. “The same Noteworthy who cleared the snow off our gardens during Winter Wrap Up?”
“I think so.”
“Hmmm.” Rose looked thoughtful. “Noteworthy, huh? With a name and cutie mark like that, he HAS to enjoy music.”
“He was always singing while he pulled the plough,” Lily remembered. “He was in tune, too.”
“Maybe he likes dancing too.” Rose started to move off, but paused when she realised Lily was still rooted to the spot. “Oh, sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Lily assured her with a watery smile. “Go on. Go and ask him.
“Are you going to try asking someone, Lily?”
“No, no, I’m fine here,” Lily replied unconvincingly. “Absolutely fine. Don’t you worry about me. Go and ask Noteworthy before he leaves.”
“Okay … but only if you’re sure you’ll be all right.” Lily could see how much she wanted to go, but Rose showed the mettle of a true friend by resisting.
“It’s fine,” Lily reassured her. “Truly. Go on.”
“Well … okay then.” With a backward glance every few steps, Rose also trotted over to intercept Noteworthy’s path. He halted and looked at her in surprise and abrupt appreciation when he realised who she was. Her petal-pink dress and glittery jewellery may have dazzled him before he saw through the outer layer to the pony beyond, but once he did he was thoroughly hooked.
Lily let out a gusty sigh. She was pleased her friends had decided to be more assertive but it really wasn’t for her. While not exactly happy about it, she was content to remain a nopony if it meant she didn’t get embarrassed or look stupid in front of others. More than anything else – more than zebra magic, stampeding cows or poisonous snakes – she feared being laughing at and having everypony think she was as stupid as she suspected she was.
“I am not a silly-scaredy-pony and I won’t do things that make ponies think of me that way anymore,” she mumbled half-heartedly. “I am not a silly-scaredy-pony and … and … and I’m going to go and get something to drink.”
Braeburn hurried on, saying hello to the few ponies he recognised and who recognised him back. Ponyville was a mostly friendly place, though not as cosy-small as Appleloosa. In Appleloosa everyone knew everyone else – plus everyone else’s business, which was less cosy. In Ponyville there wasn’t as much easy anonymity as there was in a big city like Canterlot, but it wasn’t like you couldn’t keep a secret without somepony sticking their nose in. That was … actually kind of refreshing.
Eventually he ended up back at the Feast Table. Judging by the different layout of food, he reckoned he must have re-emerged from the crowd at the other end, which suited him just fine. He grabbed a plate and surveyed the spread, wondering what to have. The cheese and tomato pizza looked tasty, yet so did the baguettes filled with daffodils and sweet-grass, which had been sliced and pinned with chunks of pineapple on cocktail sticks. He could really go for some paella, but worried he wouldn’t be able to carry it someplace private to eat without spilling the rice and making a mess. Muffins arranged in a wicker basket had barely been touched and he remembered something about Rarity’s friend bringing a basket of those and how they were so good. He nabbed one and carried it away.
Or at least he would have carried it away if he hadn’t turned at exactly the right moment to smack into another pony. A cup went flying and before he could think to move away they were both drenched. He staggered and his plate also dropped to the ground, the muffin disappearing from view as his eyes stung.
“Oh my gosh!” the other pony squeaked. “I’m so sorry! Incredibly sorry! Unbelievably sorry! I –”
“S’okay,” he coughed, blinking rapidly. Something minty and sweet-smelling was in his eyes. Everything was blurry and tinged with red. “It was an accident. Ngghh! No – ow! – harm done.”
“But … b-but …”
“None done to me, anyhow.” He disconsolately put down his empty left hoof. “I can’t say the same for my poor muffin.”
The other pony squeaked again. “I’m sorry! I think I stood on it.”
“No worries. There’s plenty left an’ we ain’t exactly hurtin’ for food tonight, are we?”
Another squeak, this time without any word accompaniment.
“Are you okay?” Braeburn asked in concern. Maybe he had caused injury with the force of the impact. He swiped a hoof across his eyes and wished he had put his hat back on instead of carrying it even after Blossomforth ditched him. Maybe it would have protected him from getting drenched.
“I’m fine,” the other pony peeped.
He tried to focus through the blurriness, but the only impression he got was that he was speaking to a chandelier that had grown legs and was walking around. The high-pitched voice indicated a mare and her tone said she was terrified.
Of me? he thought in dismay. What had he done to make her frightened of him? “Are you sure you’re all right?” he pressed, in case she had just said she was fine only to make him feel better. “I didn’t hurt you?”
She must have shaken her head, setting a huge number of sparkly things twinkling like fireflies doing the hokey-cokey. It was hard to tell what kind of pony she was amidst all the glitz, or even her coat colour in the refracted light.
“I’m sorry, I ain’t tryin’ to be rude. Guess it just comes natural.” He gave a chuckle that wasn’t reciprocated. “Uh, I’m from outta town, visitin’ family for a while here in Ponyville.” When he still received no reply he added, “I ain’t never been to one of these her shindigs before.”
“I, uh …” The glittery pony stepped from side to side uncertainly. “I have to go!” She shimmered away, vanishing into the mass of much duller ponies before Braeburn could call her back.
He waited for a second. Then he gave up and scrubbed furiously at his eyes with his own tail, not caring how much he looked like a country bumpkin.
Gosh darn it! Ditched twice in half an hour? T’ain’t fair, I tell ya!
Lily didn’t stop until she reached the edge of the stage where the musicians were playing. Once there she all but collapsed against a lamppost, breath coming in raggedy gasps that were only partly from exertion. She resisted the urge to put her hooves over her face in shame.
She had run away. She was finally talking to a stallion who seemed eager to talk to her too and she had bottled it. She couldn’t believe it. How pathetic was she? Even Rose and Daisy hadn’t been so … so … pathetic! She truly was a hopeless case.
Yet standing there, looking up at the punch-drenched pony, her tongue had felt like it had swelled to twice its original size and every intelligent utterance had flown from her mind. The only coherent thought in her head was an observation of how handsome the stallion was, even dripping with punch. That fact alone had turned her legs to jelly and driven her off more effectively than a pack of wild dogs.
“I’m useless,” she muttered. “Completely useless. And he seemed so nice! I’m useless, useless, useless!”
Two ponies who were passing jumped back when she stamped her hoof and gave her a wide berth. Eventually she pushed off from the lamppost and walked miserably away from the crowd. She should just go home. She was happiest when she was in her garden anyway. She should just stick to that and not try to be somepony she wasn’t. no matter what her friends said.
“Hey now, where are you going?”
She looked up in alarm. Before her stood a tan pony whose grey mane did not rob her eyes of their youthful twinkle. Despite a brown dress that didn’t have one diamond or gem anywhere, she looked elegant and far prettier than one might have imagined if they had seen her at her desk in the daylight.
“M-Mayor Mare,” Lily stuttered. Oh great, fresh opportunity to embarrass herself.
“You aren't thinking about leaving, are you?” Mayor Mare enquired. “The Feast has barely begun!”
“I … I …” Lily didn’t want to admit that she was running away because she had made a fool of herself. She didn’t want to accidentally see the handsome out-of-town stallion again or see her friends accomplishing what she herself could not. “I’m not, uh, feeling too well.” It was a lie but only a little white one. She did feel awful.
“Well now, we can’t have that.” Mayor Mare cast around. “I’m sure I saw Doctor Stable around here someplace. I’m sure he could spare five minutes to cast a quick healing spell so you can enjoy the festivities. It’s Lilith, isn’t it?”
“Lily,” Lily corrected. “Lily Valley.”
“Ah, yes, you run that sweet little flower stall. I remember. I bought one of your pots for my secretary’s birthday and she loved it.”
“She did?” Gratification shot through Lily. She had a crippling lack of confidence in herself but enjoyed her work immensely and lived for the praise of happy customers. It was far easier to accept praise for her work or knowledge than her looks.
She had recently taken up pottery and demonstrated a natural talent neither Rose nor Daisy shared, though they had started the classes together. Where Lily’s pots looked artistically flawed and individual, Daisy’s collapsed on themselves in the kiln and emerged looking like dying creatures and Rose could barely use the potter’s wheel without dousing the whole class in brown water and clay.
Mayor Mare nodded blithely. “She keeps it on her desk and puts fresh flowers in it every week. Come to think of it, she probably gets the flowers from you too.” She gestured for Lily to follow her. Since she was being so kind Lily felt compelled to obey. “So you’re probably responsible for all the decoration in her office and mine, since she takes care of all that sort of thing for me.”
“I’m, uh, glad you like them,” Lily said, wondering whether the flowers came from her, Rose or Daisy.
“What pony doesn’t like some pretty flowers to lighten their mood? Ah! Doctor? Do you have a moment?”
A tall mustard yellow stallion turned to them. His brown mane perched high on his head, set in a quiff behind his horn. His glasses had slid to the end of his snout but the family resemblance was unmistakable in spite of the horn. Lily, who had gone to school with the accident-prone Caramel, remembered something about his father being a doctor who was never satisfied with his son’s lack of magic and spent each Winter Wrap Up pretending Caramel wasn’t working as a common labourer on the celery farm. It wasn’t easy to be the earth pony son of a unicorn anyhow, but when your dad was Chief Physician of the local hospital it added a whole other layer of pressure.
“Mayor!” Doctor Stable greeted her warmly. “A heck of a turnout this year, eh? I’ll bet this is the best attended Spring is Sprung Feast in the history of Ponyville.”
“Well I don’t know about that–”
“You sure picked a good band this year, too. Pitch perfect and not too heavy on the head-banging.” When he smiled he looked more like Caramel than ever.
Mayor Mare preened before gesturing Lily forward. “This young lady was about to head home early because she doesn’t feel well. Since it’s so early and that would be such a shame, I was hoping you could do something for her so she could stay and enjoy the party.”
“Not well, eh?” Irritation flashed briefly over Doctor Stable’s face, but was gone before Mayor Mare could notice. Lily, however, was attuned to ponies’ moods around and about her. Doctor Stable clearly had wanted an evening free from work but here he was being presented with her and her false illness. “What seems to be the problem?”
“A, uh, headache,” Lily said with a flash of inspiration. Well, her head was pounding with nerves and was it likely to turn into a headache if left unchecked.
Doctor Stable’s expression eased. “Just a headache? I can fix that in a jiffy.” Lowering his horn to her forehead, he instructed, “Hold still please.”
Lily froze. His magic was like being filled with fluttery butterflies that spread from her face, down her spine and outward into her whole body. It was not an unpleasant sensation and she was sorry when it ended.
“There we are,” he declared. “That should fix you right up.”
She did indeed feel energised, as if she had slept for twelve hours and then gone for an invigorating jog. She never jogged in case she fell over a tree root and broke her leg. Maybe she should swallow that fear and start, if she felt like this afterwards. “Thank you, Doctor.”
“No problem.” He spoke to Lily but looked at Mayor Mare. “Mayor, would you care to dance?”
Mayor Mare gave a girlish giggle and took his outstretched hoof. “You run along and enjoy yourself now, dear,” she told Lily as they swept out onto the floor without breaking eye-contact.
“I will,” Lily replied even though neither was listening. “And thank you.”
Left alone again, she wondered what she should do next. She had promised not to go home, but being on your own at the Spring is Sprung Feast like trying to tightrope walk without a balancing pole: doable but dangerous and prone to awful falls from grace. Rose and Daisy had got what they wanted. If Lily could just survive the evening without doing anything too embarrassing or dangerous she would be content with that.
“I am not a silly-scaredy-pony and I won’t do things that make ponies think of me that way anymore,” she told herself.
Mayor Mare looked ecstatic as she strutted her stuff to the music, which had become a fast number to encourage ponies to work up a sweat. Doctor Stable had a time trying to keep up with her. His glasses slipped right off his nose and would have hit the floor if Mayor Mare had not caught them. She placed them on his head behind his horn with a flourish like it was part of the steps. Doctor Stable laughed out loud, amusement making him seem years younger. It was difficult to see the austere, disappointed father in is carefree face.
“He looks happy, doesn’t he?”
Lily nearly jumped out of her skin at the voice in her ear. Caramel had walked right up to her without her noticing him. He was focussed on his father and Mayor Mare, an unreadable expression on his face. To see him so soon after Doctor Stable, Lily could not help but notice the similarities acutely: the line of the jaw, the mustard coat, the blue eyes with slightly longer than average lashes. Caramel was a little more muscles than his father thanks to working on a farm but nopony could mistake them for anything but parent and child.
“It happens so rarely, I’d almost forgotten what it looks like,” Caramel murmured. “His smile, I mean. He almost never smiles. Not since …” He trailed off. For a long moment Lily thought he was going to turn and walk away, but then he carried on speaking as if he had never stopped. “He never dated after Mom died. Ever. I guess I just never thought of him with any other mare.” He tilted his head to one side. “He and the mayor look … happy together. Who’d have thought, huh?”
“Not me, for sure,” Lily agreed.
Caramel’s head rocked back like he had been punched. He blinked at her as if seeing her fir the first time. “Lily?”
“Hi, Caramel.”
“How long have you been standing there?”
“Uh…” She wasn’t sure how to answer that.
Caramel shook his head. “Gosh, I’m sorry. I was just talking and not thinking–”
“It’s okay. Really, it is!” she hastily assured him.
His cheeks flamed. “I saw my dad and I just … I wasn’t thinking, y’know? Sorry. Gosh, I’m sorry. That was really rude of me. I didn’t even say hello to you! I am such a doofus.”
“Really, it’s fine.” A thought struck Lily. Caramel was a nice guy, self-effacing and nearly as shy as her. He was safe. He would be perfect to spend the evening with. “Would you, uh, like to dance too?”
Caramel looked at her with an expression she could only term ‘aghast’. He opened his mouth to respond, but a much more feminine voice came out – or so it seemed. Seconds later that notion was dispelled as an attractive pegasus mare floated down beside him, blonde mane trailing behind her like clouds at sunset against her periwinkle blue coat.
“Caramel, honey? I thought we agreed to meet at the oak tree.”
“Sassaflash!” Caramel looked stricken. “Sorry, I was just … um …”
The mare’s orange eyes went immediately to Lily, who cringed. Less than a second later, however, Mayor Mare let out a whoop. Sassaflash’s gaze snapped to her and immediately became contrite. “Oh, honey…”
“It’s fine,” Caramel said quickly. “Really.”
Sassaflash advanced on him and wordlessly touched her nose to his. It was a personal moment and one that left Lily wanting to sink into the floor until she hit magma. Although enacted in public there was something intensely private about Sassaflash’s reaction and the way it took sad, shy Caramel only a half-second to return it. Lily backed away, a strange emotion tugging at her – was that regret or envy she could feel? Caramel looked so … contented? Reassured? Centred? What would it be like to have just the touch of another pony inspire such feelings in you?
Lily turned and hurried away the moment somepony shielded her from their view.
Braeburn found Apple Bloom deep into her second helping of chocolate pudding. She sat on a tree stump, surrounded by culinary devastation and two other fillies: a little orange pegasus and a pretty white unicorn. The unicorn paused with a slice of apple pie on its way to her mouth. She used her hoof instead of levitation magic, leading him to wonder at what age unicorns grew into their powers.
“Hi Braeburn!”
“I see you finally got your puddin’,” he observed with a smile. “Is it as good as you remembered?”
“Even better!” Apple Bloom declared enthusiastically. “Would you like to try some?”
“No thanks, sweetheart, I’m good.” He looked at the other two fillies, whom he had seen from the farmhouse window before but never been properly introduced to. “Hi there. I’m Braeburn, Apple Bloom’s cousin.”
“You’re the stallion from way out west.”
“That I am.”
“I’m Sweetie Belle,” the little unicorn said politely. “And this is Scootaloo.”
“We’re the Cutie Mark Crusaders!” the pegasus added ardently. “You’ve probably heard of us.”
“I surely have.” Applejack’s letters had often detailed their escapades, although she described their antics in less than glowing terms. She mostly worried for their safety as they tried everything under the sun to achieve their cutie marks. Hearing about some of the things they had done, Braeburn was apt to agree with her.
“Cool!” Scootaloo glanced at the others with a hint of smugness. “I told you we were famous.”
“More like infamous.” Apple Bloom scraped out the last of her pudding and licked the spoon clean.
Scootaloo looked confused. “What’s the difference?”
“Hey, girls, have any of y’all seen Applejack hereabouts?” Braeburn interrupted. “Or Big Macintosh?”
At the mention of Big Macintosh all three fillies adopted expressions of guilty delight.
“He’s with Miss Cheerilee.” Apple Bloom wagged her spoon at him. “Don’t you go botherin’ them, Braeburn.”
“The same Miss Cheerilee who made that there puddin’?”
“Uh-huh. She’s our teacher and she’s super nice.” Sweetie Belle nodded so much her head threatened to bounce right off her shoulders. “They’ve been seeing each other since Hearts and Hooves Day.” Her sentence rose at the end, as if she was only just holding in a squeal of joy.
Deciding that subject was best left unexplored, Braeburn asked, “What about Applejack?”
“I don’t know.” Apple Bloom frowned momentarily. “I haven’t seen her since we arrived and she went off with Twilight to look for Rarity.”
“Well I done seen Twilight an’ Rarity bustin’ a gut out on the dance floor, but Applejack wasn’t with ‘em.”
Sweetie Belle’s eyes rounded. “My sister was on the dance floor?”
From her colouring and natural poise, Braeburn guessed she wasn’t related to Twilight. “Uh-huh, shakin’ her groove thing like a dog due for a flea bath.”
“I wouldn’t let her hear you say something like that. I didn’t even know she HAD a ‘groove thing’.”
“Wanna go see it?” Scootaloo set down her plate and got to her feet. “Apple Bloom?”
“I don’t think I can move after all that puddin’. Help me up please?” Apple Bloom held up her forelegs so each filly could take one hoof. Leaning their small weights into it, they hauled Apple Bloom upright, where she swayed for a moment. “Ooorgh … I think I – brap! – ate too much.”
“Gee, really?” Scootaloo looked pointedly at the sea of empty plates and wrappers around the tree stump.
“Not – ugh – helpin’.”
Braeburn also looked at the plates. His eye was caught by the crust of a familiar dessert. “Hey, that there’s my Apple Twist.”
“You made that?” Scootaloo sounded incredulous. “It’s incredible! I gave my chocolate pudding to Apple Bloom in exchange for it when they limited everypony to one helping.”
“Bunch of spoilsports,” Apple Bloom muttered mutinously.
“It’s really tasty!” Scootaloo raved.
“Well thank you kindly, lil’ missy.” Braeburn affected a courteous bow, which brought a spot of colour to each of Scootaloo’s cheeks.
“Uh, er, hey guys, let’s hurry, otherwise Rarity will be back to being all posh and prissy before we get to see her shaking her groove thing.”
“All right, all right,” Apple Bloom huffed, clearly feeling the effects of her eat-everything-in-sight plan for the evening. “Don’t get your britches in a twist. See ya later, Braeburn.”
“Bye, girls.” Braeburn watched as she and her friends slipped away, winding between the legs of adult ponies. Curiously Scootaloo didn’t fly above their heads, but he supposed she didn’t want to risk losing sight of the other two in the mass of ponies.
On a whim he turned back to the mess they had left and wiped up a blob of the fabled chocolate pudding. Lifting the tip of his hoof to his mouth, he licked experimentally, wondering if it would stand up to its own reputation. The flavour nearly made his tongue curl up whimpering: sugary sweetness exploded across his taste buds followed by the bitter tang of rich cocoa, each opposite flavour balancing out the other. Miss Cheerilee sure knew her stuff. No wonder she had won Feast Queen.
Once again cut adrift, he wandered away in search of his missing cousin, keeping an eye out so he didn’t accidentally find Granny Smith instead.
Lily’s nerves were stretched to breaking point. Her resolve to dance with somepony had lasted slightly longer than a heartbeat before it buckled under the weight of her crippling lack of self-esteem. Mouth dry from several failed attempts to ask ponies to dance, she headed for the punch bowl. When she arrived the only pony she recognised was Berry Punch, who was slurping happily at a large plastic cup of burgundy liquid. The bowl still brimmed with more.
“Hi, Lily!” she said slightly too loudly. She always came alive at parties but her ability to recognise personal space diminished as her liveliness grew. “Isn’t this great? Everypony’s having so much fun!”
“It’s great,” Lily agreed. “Could I get a drink, please?”
Berry Punch beamed happily. The punch was her contribution to the feast every year. She scooped up another plastic cup with gusto. “I tried a new recipe this year,” she said. “Cranberry and mint.”
Lily had not managed to taste any of her drink before dumping it on the out-of-town stranger earlier, so she took an experimental sip now. Her eyes bulged at the flavour. Suddenly she knew why there was so much punch left.
“Nice, huh?”
“Mrrf.” She couldn’t spit it out with Berry Punch standing right there, but the idea of swallowing it was horrifying. Mint burned the insides of her cheeks and the cranberry odour tingled her nose from within. Finally she had to just swallow and try hard not to grimace. “It’s g-good,” she lied.
Berry Punch’s smile stretched so wide the corners of her mouth nearly met on the back of her head. “You really think so? Only, I was starting to doubt it when nopony ever came back for more – not even the dancers and they’ve got to be super thirsty.”
“It’s, uh, really unique.” If unique meant ‘tastes like toothpaste mixed with cough medicine’, but of course Lily didn’t say that. “You’ve outdone yourself.”
Berry Punch continued to preen as Lily considered how to get rid of the rest of her glass without being spotted. She swished it around in her cup, trying to slosh a little over the sides, but the Mayor had opted for non-spill variety this year. Where was the out-of-town stallion when you needed to throw a drink on him? The thought of him made Lily blush and want a cooling drink more than ever.
“Are you okay, Lily?” Berry Punch asked in concern. “You’ve gone a really funny colour.”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Uh-huh.” Lily licked her lips and instantly regretted it. In a surge of creativity she pointed with her free hoof. “Hey, is that the Wonderbolts?”
“Where?” Berry Punch, an avid Soarin’ fan, whirled to look.
“Up there in the sky? Can you see?”
“I see pegasi, but only silhouettes. These fairy lights make it hard to see!”
Lily quietly poured the rest of her punch on a patch of grass. It already looked a little brown even though everywhere else was green and lush. She guessed quite a few ponies had done the same and it was paying the price for their politeness around Berry Punch. She decided to come back in the morning with some of the nutritional concoction she used to help her flowers stay healthy. She would spread it over the grass as an apology.
“Aw,” Berry Punch whined. “It’s only Thunderlane and Milky Way.”
“Really?” Lily said innocently. “I could have sworn they were Wonderbolts. It must have been the lights, like you said.”
The two pegasi alighted in the tree above them and looked around for a place to land without ending up on some other pony’s head. The town square was heaving with smiling, laughing, eating, dancing, partying ponies. Milky Way spotted Berry Punch and Lily, tugged on Thunderlane’s tail and pointed. In perfect formation they spiralled down and landed between the two mares.
“Ladies,” Thunderlane boomed in his infamous bass. Rose always swooned a little whenever she heard him talk. He had the kind of voice that made dragons drop an octave to compete.
“Good evening, girls.” By comparison, Milky Way’s breathy tenor could so easily be mistaken for a female voice that he had spent most of his school career lifting weights so nopony mistook him for a mare. Unfortunately his body type ran to wiry, so no matter how strong he got he never bulked up and had to come to terms with the cards life had dealt him.
“Hi, Thunderlane! Hi, Milky Way!” Despite her disappointment at them not being Wonderbolts, Berry Punch grabbed their forelegs in turn and pumped each up and down enthusiastically. “How come you’re so late?”
“Weather duty,” Thunderlane sighed. “We had to make sure it didn’t rain tonight and the pegasi over in Manehatten shoved a bank of thunderclouds our way this morning so their mayor could have a nice day for a golf game.” He shook his head at the other ponies’ thoughtlessness. “Thank goodness our mayor isn’t so selfish.”
“Well, you’re here now and that’s what matters. So what do you want to do first?” Berry Punch didn’t give them time to answer. “Ooh, I know! Before you do anything you have got to try this year’s punch! You’re probably tired and parched from all that work. Here, I’ll get you a cup each.”
Lily wanted to tell them not to accept but couldn’t. Instead she could only watch as Thunderlane and Milky Way unknowingly took huge thirsty gulps of the evil-tasting liquid. They stood with swollen cheeks and watery eyes as Berry Punch smiled blithely at them.
“So what do you think? Nice, huh? It’s my latest flavour and I’m really proud of it.”
One by one, they swallowed and told her what she wanted to hear. Thunderlane sounded a little strangled but not so much that Berry Punch noticed.
“Great!” She abruptly tipped her head to one side. “Oh my gosh, I love this song! C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon! Dance with me!” She grabbed one white and one black hoof and dragged them away, singing along tunelessly to the band as she went. “Lily, c’mon! This song rocks!”
“Uh … okay. Wait for me.” Lily went after them but stumbled as another pony knocked into her. She trod on the hem of her dress, staggered a few steps and fetched up against the chest of an officious looking stallion with a buzzcut. “Sorry, sir.”
“Humph.” His nostrils flared. “You smell like you shouldn’t be trying to stand.”
“What? Oh, the punch. No, it’s not –”
“Excuse me.” He shoved her away without waiting for a response.
Lily raised a hoof to her mouth, breathed out hard and sniffed. The punch smelled a little odd but not alcoholic. Berry Punch rarely added anything harder than a mixing bowl’s worth of sugar to her brews. She preferred more ingenious ways of creating flavours.
Lily looked around but Milky Way, Thunderlane and Berry Punch were out of sight. Once again on her own, Lily resolved to find an alternative drink to wash the taste – and smell – of punch from her mouth when something wrapped around her neck from behind. She was about to scream when a cheek squashed up to hers and she realised she wasn’t being choked to death by a monster. Somepony was hugging her.
“Hey!” shrieked a happy voice. “Don’t look so glum, chum!”
“P-Pinkie Pie!”
“That’s my name, don’t wear it out!” Pinkie giggled. “Hey, have you ever noticed how silly that phrase is? How the hay do you wear out somepony’s name just by saying it too much?”
Lily gulped. “Need … air …”
“Whoops!” Pinkie released her. “Sorry. You just looked like you were in serious need of a hug.”
Lily coughed and sucked in a breath. Pinkie Pie was less a pony, more a force of nature in pony form. Wherever she went you could be sure that smiles, laughter and general destruction would follow. Lily took in another breath for strength and met the happy gaze fixed upon her. “D-Did I?”
“Uh-huh.” Pinkie nodded enthusiastically. “You looked lost and alone, so I went for the Pinkie Special Hug #436.”
“You … what?”
“Hugs are like everything else; there are different types for different occasions.”
“There are?”
“Uh-huh. There’s the You’re My Friend And I Love You Because You’re You hug, the You’re My Friend And I Love You Even Though You’re A Cranky-Pants hug, the I’m Sorry You’re Sick So I Won’t Touch You Much hug, the It’ll Be Okay In The End hug – all sorts of hugs for all sorts of ponies! You got #436, the Cheer Up It’s Not So Bad hug.”
There was something so logical and yet illogical about the idea that Lily just stared at her. It was such a Pinkie Pie thing to think up. Most ponies wouldn’t think to categorise their hugs, much less give them elaborate names. A hug was a hug was a hug, right? “Um …”
“So how come you’re looking so sad in the middle of such a fantastical party?” Pinkie wanted to know.
“I, er …” What to say? The truth? Giving Pinkie the truth was a dangerous game. She was apt to try and ‘fix’ whatever problem she perceived was keeping others from having as much fun as her. Lily wasn’t sure she had enough energy to keep up with that. “It’s nothing, honestly, I’m fine.”
Pinkie adopted a mock-stern expression. “Liar, liar, pants on fire. Except you’re not wearing any pants. Have you tried the punch? Is that why you’re standing over here?”
“Uh, yes.”
“It’s divine, isn’t it?”
“Uh …”
“I could drink the whole bowl, but that’d be greedy and, besides, then I’d have to keep leaving to use the bathroom and this party is too good to leave. Have you danced yet?”
“No, but I don’t wan-”
“You can’t come to the Spring Is Sprung Feast and not dance!” Pinkie declared in horror. “Where are Rose and Daisy? You three are always together. Why aren’t you dancing with them?”
“They went off with a couple of stallions earlier, but it’s okay, really –”
“Unacceptable!” Pinkie grabbed Lily’s hoof and dragged her forward. “Never fear, Pinkie’s here! I’LL be your dance partner. I’m a great dancer. You just copy me and you’ll be fine, okay?”
“Pinkie, please, wait, I don’t –” Lily’s cries were lost as she disappeared into the sea of gyrating ponies.
Braeburn was pretty sure tables didn’t have hands. He was definitely sure they didn’t have scaly purple hands, so when one snaked from under the tablecloth and snagged a platter of mini quiches he put a hoof out to hold it in place. The hand’s claws skittered off the edge of the platter and a voice muttered a curse. He lifted the tablecloth to look.
“Hi there, Spike.”
“Braeburn?” Spike blinked at his unexpected exposure. “This, uh, isn’t want it looks like.”
“What does it look like?”
“I’m not stealing the food, honest.”
“Ain’t no point to that anyhow, on account of it’s free to anyone who wants some. If it was a case of you bein’ yea tall –” Braeburn held a hoof out. “– an’ the table bein’ yea tall –” He raised the hoof. “– you only had to ask an’ I’d gladly let you ride on my back so’s you could reach the vittles.”
Spike looked shamefaced. “Thanks, but actually I was just sick of being stepped on and having food knocked out of my claws. Everyone’s having such a great time they aren’t always looking down at my level.”
“I thought you ate gemstones,” Braeburn said with genuine confusion.
“They’re my favourite but I can eat other stuff too.”
“I didn’t mean to offend; it’s just that we don’t get many dragons out in Appleloosa.”
“None taken.” Spike shrugged. “We don’t get many dragons here in Ponyville. At least none who aren’t trying to wreck the place or turn the sky dark for a few hundred years.”
“Say what?”
He shook his head. “It’s a long story. Hey, have you seen Twilight? I lost track of her a while ago.”
“Last I saw she was boogieing with Miss Rarity.”
“Rarity?” A look of absolute bliss briefly crossed Spike’s face. He shook it off and focussed on Braeburn. “Aren’t you here with anyone?”
“I arrived with the Apples but they’re all off doin’ their own thing. Truth be told, I’m kinda avoidin’ Granny Smith on account of I’m meant to be with some young mare by the name of Blossomforth an’ she’ll be in big trouble with her own granny if they find out she ditched me.”
“Blossomforth?” Spike squinted in thought. “Hang on, did she ditch you for a mare with a yellow tail and pink mane?”
“She surely did. Why, do you know her?”
Spike nodded. “That’d be Cloud Showers. She and Blossomforth are the worst kept secret in Ponyville. Well, apart from Mayor Mare’s dye job.”
“They are?”
“Everyone knows they’re an item except Nana Knits. She keeps trying to pair Blossomforth off with the most eligible stallions in Cloudsdale and no-one has the heart to tell her it’s a lost cause. She has her heart set on a big cloud-house to live out her retirement and the wingbeats of lots of little pegasi grandkids in the halls.”
“Oh.” This information caused several things clicked into place for Braeburn. No wonder Nana Knits had looked at him with such disgust. He was missing all the key ingredients she wanted in a grandson-in-law, especially the wings and big cloud-house. He had not really considered himself as a father, but figured that he would like it someday, once Appleloosa was set and he could think about settling down. “An’ nopony’s seen fit to set her straight yet?” He winced at his own phrasing.
“I don’t think she’d listen even if they did. It takes a special kind of willpower to ignore so much evidence that your plans for the future aren’t going to come true.” Spike sighed. “Ask Applejack what happened when Granny Smith tried to gentle Nana Knits into the idea.”
“Since I ain’t seen my cousin from the minute we arrived, I’d be obliged if you’d furnish me with the information instead.”
“Well, Nana Knits and Granny Smith have been friends since they were foals. They were bridesmaids at each other’s weddings and it was Nana Knits who stayed over when Grandpa Albermarle died. When Granny Smith tried to talk to Nana Knits about Blossomforth, she refused to speak to her for a month. It took a dozen apple pies to even get her to open her door – and that was because Rainbow Dash stacked them up so high on her doorstep they were practically barricaded inside.”
“Poor Blossomforth,” Braeburn observed dolefully. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like to live like that. “An’ poor Cloud Showers, to boot. It can’t be easy knowin’ the family of the pony you care for don’t like you.”
Spike focussed a little more diligently on a spot over Braeburn’s shoulder. “Speaking of which, you might want to make yourself scarce.”
“Why’s that?”
He pointed. “Granny Smith and Nana Knits are headed this way.”
“They are?” Braeburn whirled. Sure enough, the two old mares were deep in conversation but would spot him at any moment if either of them looked away from the other. Their rickety steps made their progress slow but he was struck by panic like a jolt of electricity. “Ponyfeathers, I gotta hide!”
“Quick, get under here.” Spike gestured. “It’s not exactly roomy but – whoa!” He was cut off by Braeburn unceremoniously dropping to his belly crawling in beside him. The tablecloth dropped back into place with a swish. “Ow! You stepped on my tail!”
“Sorry.” Braeburn tried to turn around in the narrow space so his tail had no chance of poking out and giving away his location. The move evidently trampled spike’s tail again, because the little dragon yelped and clutched it to his chest. “Sorry!”
“It’s okay,” Spike grimaced. His large green eyes darted left and right. “But if it’s all the same to you, I’m going to move out of range. I’ll see if I can find Twilight anywhere. You just stay put and don’t make any noise until Nana Knits and Granny Smith are gone.”
“Much obliged, Spike.”
“Whatever.” Spike held his tail out of harm’s way as he scurried between the table legs and out of sight.
Pinkie Pie was a dervish on the dance floor. Lily did her best to keep up but kept stumbling over her own hooves. “Pinnnnnnkiiiiie!” she yelped as the other mare spun her around in a pirouette. “I have to stop or I’m gonna puuuuuuke!”
“Isn’t this fun?” Pinkie appeared not to have heard her. “I never knew you were such a terrific dancer!”
“P-Please s-stop,” Lily begged.
Pinkie halted only to bend Lily backwards over her foreleg. Lily took the opportunity to stop her eyeballs from rotating around inside her head. Pinkie had procured a rose, though only Celestia knew wherefrom. She had it clenched between her teeth as she leaned in close, though it didn’t stop her pronouncing her next devastating words perfectly. “Let’s give them something really spectacular to look at, huh?”
“What are you–?” The world was reduced to smears of colour as Pinkie stood her upright only to grab both of her hooves and twirl them both around in a circle. Centrifugal force compelled Lily to lean further and further backwards as they sped up. “Piiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnkiiiiiiiiiiiie!”
“Thiiiiiis iiiis greeeeeaaat!” Pinkie laughed.
“Noooo iiiiit’s nooooot!” Lily’s stomach lurched around like a pinball in a machine. She was extremely glad she had not eaten anything, though her nausea reached boiling point even without anything to throw up. “Pleeeeease slooooow dooooown!”
Even with her vision impaired and her centre of balance askew, Lily saw Pinkie’s mischievous grin. “Release!” she yelled.
Hooves suddenly freed, Lily was flung away with the force of her own momentum. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she actually took flight for a moment. Manes and a few surprised expressions sailed by underneath her. She didn’t have time to feel embarrassed before she descended in a cloud of dust and hastily-moved-aside bodies. She rolled with the landing until fetched up against a pair of solid, immovable legs, where she could do nothing but lay as the world pitched and spun around her.
“Oh my goodness!” said a voice. “Are you okay?”
“Oooorgh …” Lily tried to form words but the connection between brain and mouth was broken. “Nnnnngh …”
“Don’t just stand there, help her up!”
“N-no!” Lily held up a shaky hoof and got the word out through sheer force of will. “I’m f-fine … right here …”
“You most certainly are not.”
“Nope,” added a rumbling voice she knew she would be able to identify if she hadn’t scattered her wits over the heads of the other feasters.
“I will be … when the world … stops spinning …” Lily closed her eyes. “And as long … as Pinkie Pie … doesn’t make me dance … any more …”
“Nope,” the deep voice rumbled again.
“Oh dear,” said his female companion. “I think she may be headed this way.”
“That! Was! Awesome!” cried the not-distant-enough voice. “Lily? Where’d you end up?”
Lily’s eyes snapped open. The world was still rotating but not nearly as much. “Hide me!” she squeaked. “Please!” She wasn’t sure her legs would carry her far enough or fast enough to escape another dose of Pinkie’s brand of fun.
The two ponies looking down at her exchanged a glance. The smaller of the two looked around and fixed upon the trestle table Lily would have crashed into if she had not been stopped. A little purple dragon dashed out from under it, which apparently gave her an idea.
“Under here,” she said, lifting the tablecloth. “Quick.”
Lily didn’t bother trying to get up. Instead she rolled until she was hidden from view and watched as two shadows fell across the section she was hidden beneath.
“Hi Big Macintosh!” Pinkie cried a few seconds later. “Hi Cheerilee!”
“Hello Pinkie Pie,” said the lighter voice, now identified as Miss Cheerilee’s. “Are you enjoying the Feast?”
“I’m having SO much FUN!” Pinkie exclaimed. “This party is awesome! Hey, have you guys seen Lily? I think she landed somewhere around here.”
“Landed? But Lily isn’t a pegasus.”
“Silly! Not only pegasus ponies can fly, y’know. I myself have a whirligig flying machine that I built out of an old bike, a hammock and some mattress springs. It’s totally cool. Do you wanna see it?”
“Right now?” Cheerilee sounded surprised.
“Well maybe not right-right now, but soon. I’ll bring it to the school for show and tell!”
“But Pinkie, you don’t go to school.”
“Details, details. A pony can always stand to learn things. That’s what Twilight says and she’s super-duper-über smart, so she should know, right? Right?”
“Uh, right.”
“Yup.” Big Macintosh added his assent in typical monosyllabic style.
“So, yeah, um, you guys haven’t seen Lily?”
“Not recently,” Cheerilee lied.
“Oh ponyfeathers.” Pinkie’s pout was so powerful Lily could perfectly picture her jutting lip. She didn’t dare move in case her jingling jewellery gave her away. “I guess I used too much Pinkie power.”
“Pinkie power?” Cheerilee echoed.
“Uh-huh. It’s like pony power, only funner. More fun. The funnest!” Pinkie giggled and bid them goodbye, making them promise to tell her if they saw her wayward dancer partner.
Several dozen seconds later, the tablecloth twitched. Lily cringed back like a cat faced with a bath, but Cheerilee’s face appeared in the triangular gap of sky.
“She’s gone. You’re safe.”
“For now,” Big Macintosh said from out of sight.
Cheerilee looked mildly irritated, but only for a moment. “Yes, for now. I think maybe you should stay hidden until she finds someone else to dance with.”
Lily nodded soundlessly. Under the table was fine. Under the table was safe. She could live with spending the whole Spring Is Sprung Feast under the table if it meant she didn’t have to dance with Pinkie Pie again. She knew Pinkie was only trying to make her feel better but she was dangerous!
“Do you want us to stand guard out here?” Cheerilee offered.
Lily wasn’t stupid. She knew why Big Macintosh and Cheerilee had been standing so close together; the same reason they seemed so at ease in each other’s company and had not needed to say anything to know what the other was thinking. A knot of jealousy tightened in Lily’s stomach but she shoved it down and shook her head. They should be off enjoying themselves. Big Macintosh was famous as the hardest working pony in all of Ponyville. He had gained the reputation when his parents passed and he became the stallion of his family was he was still barely a colt finishing high school. That reputation had only strengthened year upon year as he fought to keep Sweet Apple Acres running with only himself and his sister strong enough to farm it. Miss Cheerilee worked just as diligently at her job and often stayed late at the school, depriving herself of a social life for the sake of her students. They both deserved a night off from looking after other ponies to spend time with each other. Cheerilee looked unconvinced, but Lily silently motioned it was fine until she dropped the tablecloth and their shadows moved off.
Lily blew out a sigh. So much for her big debut as a sultry, sexy pony. She had made a fool of herself six ways from Sunday. It seemed only fitting that she should end the evening hiding under a table. She laid her head on the floor and covered it with her hooves, wishing this night would just end already.
“Beggin’ your pardon, miss, but are you all right?”
Lily’s head shot up so fast she cracked it against the underside of the table. Stars exploded across her vision and she spent the next few seconds clutching the top of her skull to keep it from unscrewing to let her hurt brain crawl out and hide in the Everfree Forest.
“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!”
“Gosh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you do that.”
She continued to clutch and whimper. It was all she could do until the initial pain subsided and she could see properly again. When she opened her eyes, it was to see a pony looking at her. His face was cast in shadow by the fact they were both under a table, but he was unmistakable. She would have recognised his voice even without his face. It was the handsome out-of-towner and he was watching her with unconcealed concern. All at once the entire evening crashed over Lily like a tidal wave that had been building behind her back, which she had only just turned to see seconds before it drowned her. She wanted nothing more than for the floor to crack open and swallow her.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded mutely.
“Did you … did you bite your tongue?”
She shook her head.
“You just don’t wanna talk to me?”
She started to nod, then paused and shook her head, paused again and settled for a helpless shrug.
“Oh.” He didn’t sound annoyed. Instead, his concern seemed only to grow. He glanced around. “So what’s a mare like you doin’ in a place like this?” It was a ridiculously clichéd question; something straight out of one of Rose’s ‘How To…’ dating guides, but he asked it with such a straight face Lily would not have been surprised to find he had never picked up a dating guide in his life.
She snorted and clapped both front hooves over her nose.
“Gesundheit,” he said blithely. “I’m hidin’ out here from some ponies I can’t let find me. You?”
She nodded, surprised. She had not expected that.
“I gotta admit, this wasn’t how I figured tonight would go. Truth be told, I wasn’t sure how this here shindig would go, on account of I ain’t never been to one before. This is my first Spring is Sprung Feast.” He looked up, the top of his hat scraping the underside of the table.
“I know,” Lily whispered. “You’re from out of town.”
He blinked at her. “Sure enough, I am. Hey, do I know you? Your face don’t seem all that familiar but I swear I done heard your voice before.” He narrowed his eyes and before she could make the excuse that he must have seen her on market day he tapped the ground decisively with one hoof. “You’re the one who covered me in punch earlier this evenin’.”
She blushed scarlet. “Sorry.”
“Ain’t that a peach? Of all the places I figured I’d run into you again, this sure ain’t one of ‘em.” He smiled. It lit up his whole face. He had an easy smile of the kind that made you want to smile back even if you had nothing to smile about. Lily was glad she still had her mouth covered to prevent him seeing her anaemic attempt. “So who’re you hidin’ from?”
What was the harm in telling him? “Pinkie Pie.”
He winced. “Well, at least yours is understandable. That mare plum tuckers me out every time I speak to her. Me, I’m takin’ cover from Granny Smith an’ Nana Knits. You know ‘em?”
Lily nodded. Granny Smith sometimes bought flowers from her stall, but she had seen both old mares at different times on market day. Granny Smith often stopped to talk even when she wasn’t buying anything. Nana Knits, on the other hoof, liked to buy bottles of oil to help with stiff wing joints from the travelling apothecary whenever he passed through Ponyville. He always set up next to Lily so he could buy lilies to dry and grind into diuretic tinctures, so Nana Knits would speak to her if she wasn’t with another customer. She never seemed to have a good word to say about anypony and would talk loud and long about how the world was so much better when she was younger.
“Hoo-wee. That look says it all. I guess I was right to get my butt under here. Well, over there.” He pointed over his shoulder. “I started out over yonder an’ crawled here. It sure helps that these here tables stretch all the way around the party.”
“I … guess so,” Lily said uncertainly. The surrealism of the situation was catching up to her. Was this real, or just an elaborate dream? Had she hit her head harder than she had thought when Pinkie threw her? Had she tripped and fallen on her way out of Rose’s house and this whole evening was a hallucination? That last one didn’t seem so bad a prospect, but her aches and pains from dancing twanged too much for them to be just a product of her imagination.
The stallion looked at her. “Ponyfeathers, where are my manners? I’m Braeburn – from Appleloosa. An’ you are?”
“Lily Valley.”
“Lily Valley?”
“Well, just … Lily, really.” She had always felt like her name was slightly too big for her. She wasn’t given to self-aggrandising and calling herself ‘Lily Valley’ suggested tracts of land and choirs singing arias on a cliff-top.
“Well, nice to meet you, Lily. If I could’ve, I would’ve chosen nicer circumstances, but if I had to be trapped under the Feast Table with anypony I can think of worse candidates.”
Was that a compliment? She looked at him uncertainly. He coughed into a hoof and looked away, as if he too realised what that sounded like.
“I’m not … I don’t usually do this sort of thing.” She wasn’t sure why she said it, she just knew she wanted to wipe the awkwardness from his face. He looked nicer when he smiled. “Hiding under tables with strange ponies, I mean. This is … this is a first for me.”
“Me too.”
“It’s … possible we could be here a while.” Why did that thought not twist up her stomach with dread?
“I reckon so,” he agreed. “I guess we better make the most of it. Uh, I mean best of it.” He looked away again, cheeks tinged pink. “Gosh darn it, whichever way you slice it, there ain’t no good way to talk about being under a table with another pony in the middle of a party.”
A tiny giggle escaped Lily, like a single bubble popping in a glass of soda.
He smiled ruefully. It was nearly as nice to look at as his regular smile. “So, Miss Lily, how come I ain’t never seen you around Ponyville before? It feels like my cousin, Applejack, done introduced me to everypony in town but I don’t remember you an’ I’m sure I woulda if she had.”
One of the perks of being a pink pony was that it took a smidge longer for others to tell she was blushing. “I-I own a flower stall in the m-market,” she stuttered. Then, to move the conversation away from herself, she added: “Applejack is your cousin?”
“Yup.”
“Big Macintosh and Miss Cheerilee were the ones who hid me under here.”
“They were? Huh, I guess Apple Bloom was right.”
“What?”
“Nuthin’. I guess I owe them some gratitude, on account of otherwise I’d have been stuck under here on my own all night – not the way I wanted to remember my first Feast.”
“Don’t they have Spring Is Sprung Feasts in Appleloosa?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Truth be told, the town’s so new everypony works night an’ day just to keep it tickin’ over. We ain’t got no time for parties or nuthin’. That’s actually why I’m here: my family was worried I’d work myself into an early grave so they packed me off to Ponyville for some R n’ R.”
It definitely sounded like something an Apple would do. She regarded him and wondered whether he had left a girl pining for him back in Appleloosa. The moment the thought appeared in her head she fought the urge to cover her face again. Pink pony or not, there reached a point in blushing where anyone could tell you had thought something you shouldn’t.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded and asked in a strangled voice, “How long do you think we’ll have to stay under here?”
“How long is a piece of string?”
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Oh.”
His smile twitched. “Sorry. You must be really disappointed, all dolled up an’ nopony to see it ‘cept me.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she sighed. Her dress was stained with punch, torn where she had stepped on it, dirty from rolling on the ground and the jewellery in her mane hair had come loose in the tangles. “It was a crummy night anyway.”
“It was?”
“Pinkie was just the icing on the cake.”
“Wow, it was that bad?”
She shrugged. Maybe it hadn’t been the worst night ever – certainly it didn’t compare with when Nightmare Moon crashed the Summer Sun Celebration, or when Discord ravaged Equestria during the middle of her birthday party and nearly trampled her friends with giraffe-rabbits, but in a mundane, non-magical way it had been awful.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m used to it.”
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing ever seems to go right for me.” She shrugged. What was the point in concealing the truth? She didn’t say it like she felt sorry for herself, just as a statement of fact. “Most days I just want to stay in my garden and do chores. That way I know what to expect and can’t be disappointed. I know how to deal with blight, or black-spot, or aphids. If you have an ailing holly bush or groundhogs eating your tree roots, I’m your mare. It’s the rest of life I have trouble with.”
“You know how to keep groundhogs from eatin’ tree roots?”
She blinked at him. “Well … sure I do.”
“How?”
She narrowed her eyes at him, suspecting pity, but answered anyway. Gardening was her area of expertise, after all. You couldn’t run a flower stall without learning a few tricks of the trade. “Well, first off you try reasoning with them. I’m no Fluttershy, so I can’t have an in-depth conversation, but they understand even if they can’t answer what you say. If they still don’t stop, the best thing to do is spread mint leaves around the base of the tree – even better if you can get them into the actual tunnels. Groundhogs are like most rodents; they can’t stand the smell of mint and will steer well clear of the area.”
“I didn’t know that,” Braeburn said in what sounded like genuine surprise and … delight? “We’ve had a terrible time with groundhogs chewin’ right through the roots of our orchards in Appleloosa. We can’t afford to keep havin’ trees die but short of diggin’ up half the desert we didn’t know what to do.”
“Oh. Well … now you do.” Lily struggled for something else to say, but Braeburn helped her out by asking another question.
“Do you know anythin’ about cacti?” He watched her intently, waiting for her reply. He wasn’t just indulging her either. The tilt of his ears said he really wanted to know. “Lil’ Strongheart – she’s a friend of mine from the buffalo – she said it’s possible to get water from ‘em but I’ll be danged if I can figure out how without getting’ a hide full of spikes.”
Lily licked her lips, thinking back to when Twilight Sparkle recommended something other than ‘How To…' guides the last time she visited the library. “Well I have read a few books about exotic plant life…”
Braeburn wasn’t sure how it had happened, but being stuck under the food tables was the best thing that could have happened to him. If anypony had told him he would say that when he set out tonight, he would have laughed at them, but it was true. If he hadn’t hidden under here he never would have had the opportunity for such a long, involved conversation with a pony who was becoming more intriguing by the second.
At first glance Lily would not strike anyone as a remarkable pony. She kept her head down, eyes lowered more often than not and had a habit of concealing her face behind the knee of a raised foreleg, as if she was constantly trying to hide from the world. She was nervy and anxious, but the more he talked to her, the more he learned she was also intelligent and, though she kept it very well hidden, funny. Her self-deprecating humour buried itself behind a general fear of the world and everything in it – which, when she described some of the things Ponyville had endured in the last few years, seemed rather more justified than when Applejack had told him about them. It was one thing to be an Element of Harmony on the frontline, fighting evil and being active in keeping your loved ones safe. It was quite another to be and feel helpless. Lily and the other citizens of Ponyville were completely at the mercy of whatever was currently threatening Equestria, with nopony able to resist in any way that counted. What good was being heroic when the thing you were being heroic against could literally rip you to pieces without breaking a sweat?
“An’ you actually saw Discord?” he whistled. Appleloosa had felt some of the effects of his chaos magic but nothing like what Lily described: mutant rabbits, chocolate quicksand where the school used to be, gardening tools that turned into poisonous snakes when they were picked up, even the flowers she and her friends typically wore in their manes had not been exempt. Lily’s had grown vines and wrapped her up so tight she had nearly suffocated before a passing pegasus pulled her free.
“Yes and it was horrible. He was horrible.” Lily shivered at the memory. “After Raindrops carried me away from the vines she flew right at him. I think she wanted to punch him! I’ve never seen her like that before.”
“She tried to punch Discord?” Braeburn boggled. That sure sounded like a pony worth meeting.
“Tried to. Didn’t succeed. He turned her into a cloud that rained chocolate milk. He thought it was funny. Raindrops was … never quite the same after that. She never went into Sugar Cube Corner anymore and would cross the street to avoid Pinkie Pie. I thought it might be because seeing all that chocolate gave her flashbacks, but she never talked about it. She got obsessive over being able to defend herself, too. She even tried out for Wonderbolts Academy, despite never showing any interest in being a Wonderbolt before.”
Braeburn’s heart went out to the poor mare. “An’ you? How did you fare after Discord was turned to stone again?”
“I’m fine.” Lily shrugged. “As long as I have my garden, I’m fine. Although…” She trailed off, a wistful expression playing about her face.
“Although what?” Braeburn pressed.
She didn’t answer for a long moment. “Sometimes,” she eventually whispered, “I think I might like to … to do something like Raindrops did. I didn’t know her all that well – earth pony and pegasus, y’know? – but the way she didn’t let what happened defeat her. She practised and practised and practisedher flying so she could even have a chance at Wonderbolts Academy. They’re elite fliers. She had to be good to even get past the audition and she was the kind of pony who … well ‘butter-hooves’ was invented for a pony like her. She turned herself from a klutz who couldn’t keep a job into a potential Wonderbolt. Me? I’m still the pony I always was: Lily with the flower stall, who locks her door with seven different bolts and can’t sleep without a nightlight.” She blinked, as if realised where she was and what she had just said. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I just admitted that.”
“Which part: the nightlight or secretly wantin’ to take a risk with your life?”
Her cheeks darkened to a deeper shade of pink. She ducked her face behind her foreleg again. “Both.”
“I don’t know.” Braeburn laid his chin on his hooves. He was getting a crick in his neck from trying not to hit the underside of the table. “I reckon all ponies get that feelin’ once in a while. Take me, for example: I decided to throw in my lot with a lil’ town in the middle of nowhere with no ready food supply, no houses an’ nuthin’ connectin’ us to the outside world but a railway station an’ track we laid ourselves. Folks who heard what I was doin’ thought I was tetched in the head.” He chuckled. “Mayhap they were right. Still, I’ve never regretted doin’ it. Biggest risk I ever took but biggest reward I ever got, too.”
“Weren’t you scared?” Lily asked.
“Of course I was. I still am. Every time sumthin’ happens to the dam, or one of the trees dies, or a house gets damaged, my heart goes right into my mouth. The way I figure it, though, I can either weep an’ wail about it, which don’t help anypony, or I can get my hooves dirty fixin’ the problem. Ain’t nuthin’ better for getting’ rid of fear than elbow grease an’ hard work.” He chuckled again. “When I was a colt, Grammy Apple Rose once sent me to the store for a pot of elbow grease. Gosh, did the store ponies laugh themselves silly! I had no idea I was bein’ tricked and wouldn’t talk to her for three days. I was humiliated ‘til she took me aside an’ said she hadn’t meant any harm. Never underestimate the fragile ego of the proud young colt. Good thing I got me a skin thicker than an oak tree sandwich these days. Lily?” His smile faded. “Lily?”
“How can you live with being afraid all the time?” she asked, a look of abject horror on her face.
Braeburn lifted one shoulder. “I guess you just get used to it. Plus, there are benefits.”
“There are?”
“Uh-huh. When Sheriff Silverstar’s wife had her foal an’ put it in the nursery I helped build, well now, that there was one of the proudest moment of my life. Likewise whenever Lil’ Strongheart’s tribe come to town an’ trade with us unhindered, or the first time the train arrived at the station with passengers on it who wanted to see what we’d done with our lil’ scrap of land. You can’t put a price on a feelin’ like that. It makes the worry worthwhile.”
Lily’s face took on a puzzled expression, as if she had been presented with a riddle to which the answer was more complex than the question. “I don’t think I could ever do something like that. I like my comfort zone.”
“Hey, I got a comfort zone too. It’s just a few thousand miles wide an’ full of tumbleweeds.” Braeburn gave her a smile but this time she didn’t seem to register it. “Bit for your thoughts?”
“I –” Lily started but was interrupted by somepony thumping the table above them. She squeaked and shrank down, away from the trembling underside.
Braeburn was overcome by a sudden protective instinct. He shuffled closer, so he was alongside rather than facing her. She quivered and had her mouth covered to prevent her from emitting more squeaks. Her amber eyes swivelled to him and he could see fear written there. How much trauma did one ordinary pony have to go through to be so darn scared of life?
“Rainbow Dash, get off the table!” someone shouted.
“What? I didn’t step in anything.” The familiar voice came from directly above them.
“That’s not the point. Get off the table.”
“All right, all right, keep your tail on, Golden Harvest.”
More thumping preceded an awed noise from several ponies. Evidently Rainbow Dash had performed some sort of aerial display before setting down on the ground.
“Show off,” muttered a male voice.
“Sure I’m showing off.” Evidently Rainbow Dash had heard him. “But that’s because I actually have skills to show off, unlike some ponies I might mention but won’t because I’m too nice and junk.”
“’Nice and junk?’” the male voice snorted. “Yeah, you’re sure junk, all right.”
“Hey, Dumb-Bell, don’t let your mouth write cheques that your wings can’t cash!”
“Is that a challenge to race me?”
“Yeah, it’s a challenge. For you, it’s always a challenge. For me, it’s always cake.”
“Ooh!” squealed another, high-pitched voice. Lily practically became one with the dirt at Pinkie Pie’s elated cry. “I love cake! Are we talking chocolate or carrot? Ooh, or lemon sponge! Or even better, strawberry cake with pink icing! Everything’s better in pink, don’t you think? Gosh, my tummy’s growling. Did anypony bring strawberry cake with pink icing to the Feast?”
“Pinkie Pie!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed. “You’re ruining the moment!”
“Moment? What moment? Oh, wait, are you on a date?”
“With this guy? No way!”
“With this mare? No way!” echoed the male voice, now identified as Dumb-Bell. Braeburn didn’t recognise the name but it was deep enough that he suspected it belonged to a big pony with an even bigger ego, if he thought he could take on the infamous Rainbow Dash in a race. “I’d rather pull all my teeth out with rusty pliers.”
“Well I’d rather fly through Ghastly Gorge covered in dog-food!”
“Well I’d rather scoop out my own eyeballs with a melon baller!”
“Well I’d rather take a bath with a lightning bolt!”
“Well I’d rather eat a cowpat!”
“Well I’d rather cut off both my wings!”
“Well I’d rather cut off both my wings and shave my mane and tail!”
“Well I’ rather cut off both my wings, shave my mane and tail and wear Rarity’s frilliest pink dress!”
“Well I never!” a distant voice protested.
“Well I’d rather–” Dumb-Bell started.
“And I’d rather the two of you stop spoiling the Feast with your bickering!” Mayor Mare shouted over them, voice radiating fury. “This is neither the time nor the place for this kind of thing. If you want to insult each other, fine, but do it somewhere else. Many ponies have worked long and hard to create a lovely evening and you’re kicking dirt all over their efforts! You should both be ashamed of yourselves!”
A deathly hush had fallen over everything. Braeburn could feel that Lily had stopped breathing. He leaned his mouth close to her ear.
“Take a breath or you’ll explode, darlin’.”
She looked at him in surprise, but Rainbow Dash was talking again.
“Sorry, Mayor.”
“Yeah,” Dumb-Bell added, not to be outdone. “Sorry, ma’am. We didn’t mean to spoil the party.”
“Well, some of us didn’t.”
“Rainbow Dash!” Braeburn recognised his cousin’s voice. She sure sounded riled. “What in the hay are you doin’? I send you to fetch food an’ you turn a simple task into a free-for-all brawl?”
“Uh…”
“Sorry, Mayor Mare,” Applejack apologised. “I’ll be sure to have Rarity teach her some more manners.”
“After she insulted my work?” Rarity’s tone was one of ultimate indignation, though she still sounded further away than the other speakers.
“I wouldn’t want to learn how to sip tea the right way anyhow!” Rainbow Dash bellowed back, before making a noise like a duck crashing into the side of a building. “Glurk!”
“Hush your mouth, you,” Applejack hissed. “Sorry, everypony. We’ll be moving right along now. Nuthin’ to see here.”
“Mrrfrfff!”
“Rainbow Dash says goodbye now.”
An uncertain chuckle went through the crowd. Apparently the scuffle had set everyone on edge. Mayor Mare, like the leader she was, took charge.
“All right then, everypony! How about we get back into the party spirit by announcing the winning dish of the Fabulous Feast contest?”
A much louder cheer went up. Braeburn caught snatches of ‘Feast Queen’ and ‘Cheerilee’ from ponies wondering who would replace the schoolteacher as this year’s winner. He was surprised. He had thought such an announcement would come at the end of the evening. How long had he been under this table? Had so much time really passed? Then again, maybe Mayor Mare was using it as a distraction after Rainbow Dash and Dumb-Bell’s display. He hoped Applejack’s fritters would score highly. Then a thought struck him.
“Lily, what food did you bring?”
“Me?” Lily whispered. “A, uh … a tortilla thingy.”
“Tortilla thingy?” he smiled. “Is that there a technical name?”
She looked at him strangely. Her eyes flicked behind her and Braeburn realised with alarm that at some point during the argument outside he had put his foreleg around her shoulders to comfort her. It had been instinctive but now his leg burned where it touched her and he quickly snatched it back. He was so busy reprimanding himself that he completely missed the tiny spark of disappointment in her eyes.
“Mares and gentlecolts!” Mayor Mare’s voice was further away now, presumably because she had climbed up onto the stage to make her announcement. A screech of electrical feedback heralded her voice becoming abruptly louder. “Thank you for lending me your microphone, Rock Angel. First off, let’s hear it for our wonderful band, Rock Angel and the Cherubs!”
Thunderous applause filled the air. Ponies whooped and hollered for several minutes, indicating just how much they had enjoyed the music. Good music could make a party while bad music could ruin it. The fact the dance floor had not been empty all night attested which kind the Cherubs had produced.
“And now,” Mayor Mare continued when she could be heard again, “I shall announce the runners-up in reverse order. In third place is Juicy Fruit’s wonderful seven-berry fruitcake!” When the cheers had died down she went on, “In second place is Bon-Bon’s delicious family recipe florentines!”
A pony very near the Feast Table – perilously close to Braeburn and Lily’s hiding place – whooped extra loudly. Braeburn could see turquoise hooves stamping until they were nearly a blue. “Woo! Yay, Bon-Bon! I told you they were brilliant!”
“And finally,” Mayor Mare said with melodramatic gravitas, “I am proud to announce that the winner of this year’s Spring is Sprung Fabulous Feast contest is …” She paused for effect. In fact, she paused too long for effect, causing lots of hoof-shuffling and nervous coughing. When she finally finished her sentence, she bellowed into the microphone and several ponies shoes’ clattered as they jumped. “Braeburn Apple’s scrum-diddly-umptious Apple Twist!”
The applause that followed the announcement was deafening. Braeburn stayed where he was, frozen in shock. Lily finally had to poke him to make him blink his dry eyeballs.
“That’s you,” she whispered.
“Uh, yeah. I know. It’s just …”
“Just what?”
“Braeburn?” Mayor Mare called. The cheering abated as no winner appeared. “Braeburn Apple, where are you?”
“Just that I’m hidin’ under a table here with you an’ if I head on out there everypony in Ponyville’s gonna see it.”
“So?”
“So that’ll set tongues waggin’ about you, especially since you told me that stallion earlier was insinuatin’ things about you an’ the punch.” He winced as he tried to think of a sensitive way to say it. “I don’t wanna be the cause of any problems for you, Lily.”
“Questioning my…?” Lily trailed off as his meaning took root in her brain and flowered into an especially ugly plant. “Oh. Oh! You mean they’ll think we … but we didn’t … I mean, Rose said … but I would never–”
“Braeburn Apple, where in the name of Celestia are you?” Applejack’s voice cut across her. “Get your butt out here!”
“You go,” Lily said abruptly. “I’ll, uh, stay under here.”
“But they’ll see you.”
“I’ll move.” She pointed to the furthest point of the row of trestle tables. “That way when you move the tablecloth I’ll be out of sight.”
“But … you’d have to stay under here all night that way.”
She shrugged. “I don’t mind.”
He frowned. “But … I was, um, sorta hopin’ to ask you for a dance later.”
She blinked at him in astonishment. “You want to dance? With me?” She said it the way one might say ‘You want to bathe in dog poop?’ or ‘You want to drink rancid milk?’
“Sure. I mean, if you’d like to.”
“I–”
“Hey, I think I hear sumthin’!” Apple Bloom’s distinctive voice knifed into the air between them.
Lily crawled away so fast she knocked her head against the underside of the table and several shiny pieces fell off her outfit – including a crystal pendant shaped like a lily. Braeburn reached out to pick it up just as the tablecloth moved and a familiar yellow face poked underneath.
“Here you are! What the hay are you doin’ under here, Braeburn?”
Moving fast so she wouldn’t have a chance to look sideways and spot Lily, Braeburn put a hoof against her nose and gently pushed her backwards. He followed her out and emerged to the curious stares of most of Ponyville.
“Uh…” He fumbled for something to say. “Surprise?”
“Oh my gosh, I love surprises!” Pinkie Pie bounced clean over the heads of the ponies nearest to him and landed so he and she were nose-to-nose. Her smile was that odd blend of manic but heartfelt that only she could pull off. “Were you playing hide and seek? Well you have to quit it now, because you won! Congratulations, Braeburn!” She wrapped him in a hug that made him gasp for breath. He was worried his hat would fall off and reached to hold it on, whereupon he realised he wasn’t wearing it. He had taken it off so it wouldn’t keep scraping the underside of the table.
“You want your hat?”
Scootaloo, braced with Sweetie Belle either side of Apple Bloom, abandoned them to dash to the table. Apple Bloom listed sideways and Sweetie Belle had to grab her as Scootaloo helpfully stuck her head under the cloth. She took maybe a second longer than she should have, but reappeared with his hat between her teeth and didn’t mention anything about pink ponies in sparkly dresses as Pinkie Pie released him and plonked it back on his head.
Pinkie grabbed his hoof and dragged him through the crowd. He caught sight of Applejack standing next to Rainbow Dash as he went, his cousin smiling fit to burst. Rainbow Dash pumped her hoof in the air, happy to enjoy his victory as much as she would have her own. When Pinkie arrived at the stairs onto the stage she all but shoved him ahead of her and he stumbled towards Mayor Mare.
“Braeburn Apple,” she said with obvious relief, holding out the microphone to him. “Care to say a few words?”
“Um.” He took it awkwardly. “Thank y’all? I’m, uh, glad y’all like my cookin’.”
“Feast Crown!” somepony yelled. “Crown him!”
“Yeah, crown him!” somepony else shouted.
Calls went up from all sides for him to be crowned. Braeburn looked at the happy faces, marvelling that he knew so many of them after such a short time living in Ponyville. Each and every one seemed delighted for him, even the two ponies he had beaten into second and third place. As he glanced around, he saw Rarity and Twilight. Unlike those around them, they weren’t looking at the stage, but rather at something significantly shorter than themselves. He caught of flash of purple hair and a red bow before Mayor Mare claimed his attention again.
“Braeburn?”
He looked at her. Next to her a unicorn in a giant muffin costume stood next to another dressed as a banana. The sight was so bizarre his mouth actually dropped open. Their horns glowed faintly and between them hovered a crown that appeared to be made from different kinds of food: he spotted grapes, an apple, hay, bread, a curl of butter, carrots, broccoli florets, a slice of cake and a corncob, amongst other things. It should have looked garish but they held it aloft like it was part of some sacred ritual.
“Kneel,” the banana-unicorn hissed from the side of her mouth when he didn’t move.
“Oh!” If he had attended a Spring is Spring Feast before he might have known that was what he was supposed to do, but as this was his first he had just stood, gobsmacked. He knelt so abruptly both his front legs smacked the stage. He would have a couple of amazing bruises later.
“Bow your head,” the muffin-unicorn added.
He did so and felt the faint hum of magic around his ears as his hat lifted into the air. It whipped across the crowd of ponies to be caught by Rainbow Dash, who flew into the air and grabbed it with panache. She looked around, even though this was not her moment. Her eyes gleamed when they alighted on somepony in the crowd. She dive-bombed, veering up and away at the last possible second. Where she had nearly crashed a frightened yellow pegasus looked up, Braeburn’s hat on her head. The hat moved and, bizarrely, a small white rabbit lifted it and shook a tiny fist at the laughing Rainbow Dash.
Braeburn stopped watching them when something settled on his own head. Magically levitated hair-grips slid into place, anchoring the rather weighty crown to his hair. It wasn’t really food, but whatever it was made from was heavy enough.
“Raise your head,” hissed one of the unicorns. “And get up when the Mayor says.”
Dutifully, he looked up and saw the Mayor holding a hoof over him. In it was a sceptre shaped like dozens of pieces of candy resting on top of each other and topped by a miniature teapot. She reverently touched each of his shoulders. Gosh, the ponies around here sure took this stuff seriously.
“I now pronounce you King Braeburn, Monarch of the Munchies and Favourite of the Feast! Arise, your majesty!”
Ponies stamped their hooves appreciatively as he got up and returned the Mayor’s smile. Their cheering lasted long enough that his embarrassment at being the centre of attention sharpened to a point. That point truly dug into him, however, at the Mayor’s next words.
“As Feast King, you have the honour of a dance with any pony of your choice!”
Choruses of ‘Oooooh!’ met the statement.
“Um…” Braeburn looked around in alarm. “I don’t… um…”
He was wondering whether he should just ask the Mayor herself when he saw what was going on at the back of the crowd. Rarity was watching him and on her back Sweetie Belle waved her hooves frantically, pointing to her left. He looked and saw Twilight Sparkle walk from behind a tree as if she had been standing there quite innocently – a tree very far away from the Feast Tables. Behind her came a familiar pink pony who certainly did not look like she had been dancing with Pinkie Pie and then hiding in the dirt under a table.
“Lily Valley!” he said into the microphone. “I’d, um, like to dance with Lily Valley.”
Lily looked startled, frightened, embarrassed and pleased all at once. Fright grew larger than the others as the ponies who noticed her stood aside, creating an impromptu passageway for her to walk down to the stage. Mayor Mare bumped Braeburn lightly with her flank and he descended the steps to meet her.
“Hi,” he whispered.
“H-Hi,” she replied. “Um … I’ve never … danced with anypony before.”
“Unless it’s a hoedown, neither have I.” The band started playing a slow number. “An’ this ain’t no hoedown music.” He raised himself onto his hind legs and she did likewise, pressing the flat of her left hoof against his. He dithered for a moment, wondering where the other was supposed to go.
“Her waist!” called a voice that sounded suspiciously like Applejack. She was always so dang helpful.
He placed his hoof on where he presumed Lily’s waist to be beneath her dress and turned her awkwardly. He had no idea whether that was correct, but nopony gasped in horror and he didn’t fall on his face. Lily went with it, stumbling only a little. After a few turns they attained a kind of rhythm and twirled around the ring made by their audience. Braeburn felt like something had lodged in his throat and no amount of clearing would make it go away.
“Everyone grab that special somepony and join our King and his maiden on the dance floor!” Rock Angel said into her retrieved microphone. She looked at her band-mates and counted beats with a hind hoof before starting to sing.
As her voice wound around and through the crowd, couples got onto their hind legs and held their partners just as Braeburn and Lily had, with varying combinations of awkwardness and grace. Mayor Mare descended the stairs to take Doctor Stable’s hoof and they whirled away with a surprising amount of elegance for two older ponies. Big Macintosh towered over the heads of those around him, looking decidedly uncomfortable until a lavender hoof reached up and playfully tapped his nose to make him concentrate. Sassaflash and Caramel leaned their heads on each other’s shoulders, eyes closed in a private moment of utter contentment.
Lily’s eyes snapped sideways at a whistle from two mares in equally sparkly dresses who beamed at her and waved from the holds of their own partners. Rose and Daisy shared in their friend's good fortune with obvious delight. Lily’s face flamed crimson. She seemed too busy counting steps.
Braeburn hoped nopony could hear him, but he kept his voice low nonetheless. “How did you–?”
“Twilight.” Lily shifted so she could speak directly into his ear. The warmth of her breath made it tingle and flick back involuntarily. “She teleported under the table and then teleported me behind Sugar Cube Corner. Rarity was there, as if she’d known. She used her telekinesis to fix my dress and hair while Twilight did some kind of cleaning spell to my dress. I barely knew what was happening before Twilight teleported us all back to behind that tree and you said my name. I don’t understand why, though. They’re not really my friends or anything.”
“I think everypony is their friend. I owe those two mares a bundle. Those three lil’ fillies, too.”
“Fillies?”
“Never mind. You dance pretty good for someone who ain’t never tried it before.”
“Oh, I’ve had lots of practise in front of the mirror, but I never had the nerve to try it with a partner.” She sucked in a breath. “Why do I keep telling you things like that?”
“I don’t mind.”
“Well I do. It’s embarrassing.”
“I think it’s cute.”
The pressure of her hoof on his increased, as if her muscles had suddenly spasmed. “Cute?”
“Sure.”
“Braeburn … why did you pick me to dance with you?”
“I, um … well, same reason as I said before, when I told you I wanted to ask you to dance.”
“You never gave a reason then.”
“I didn’t?”
“No.”
“Oh.” He cleared his throat. His mane felt damp with sweat where the crown pressed it close to his head. Why the heck was he getting tongue tied now? “I guess because … you’re ... nice.” Ponyfeathers, could he sound any lamer?
“Nice?” Lily repeated.
“Uh-huh.” He fastened on the word like a leaky life-raft. “Real nice.”
“Real nice.”
“Yup. I figured, if I was gonna dance with anypony tonight, I’d want it to be somepony I actually liked.”
There was that spasm again. “You like me?” Lily’s voice rose in pitch to a level only heard by dogs.
“What’s not to like?” Braeburn asked with a burst of courage. “You’re funny, pretty an’ can hold a conversation. Anypony’d have to be tetched in the head not to like you.”
“You forgot ‘paranoid’, ‘a bag of nerves’, ‘annoying’ and ‘pathetic’.”
“Hey now, stop that kinda talk.”
“Not saying them won’t change the facts. Sorry, but I’m having a little trouble wrapping my head around anypony liking me enough to announce it in public.”
He had done that, hadn’t he? He was a little surprised at himself, too. He suddenly thought of Nana Knits and Blossomforth, but couldn’t bring himself to truly regret the decision when he could smell Lily’s scent so close. She smelled, appropriately, like lilies at dusk. “Ain’t you never had any stallion want to take you out?”
“Three times. The first was a bet with his friends. The second was a dare. I was so spooked by the first two I hid in bed and didn’t answer the door to the third. Like I said: ‘paranoid’, ‘a bag of nerves’, ‘annoying’ and ‘pathetic’.”
Braeburn wasn’t sure what to say to that.
She gave a short mirthless laugh. “I’ve rendered you speechless.”
“No, I’m just takin’ a moment. I figure if I don’t say nuthin’ I won’t ask you for the names of the ponies who spooked you so’s I can kick their tails until all the hair falls out. I’m an Apple an’ we kick real hard, an’ I don’t wanna get in trouble for breakin’ somepony’s butt.”
She pulled back to look into his face, ostensibly to see if he was kidding. “Was that a joke?”
“Honestly? I ain’t sure myself.” Anger certainly had risen inside him. The idea of somepony hurting her made him want to hurt them back. With interest.
“I’m not sure if that’s sweet or scary.”
“I ain’t scary, if that helps.”
She looked at him, amber eyes scrutinising. “Actually, you are. You’re terrifying.”
His heart sank. “I am?” He never should have tried to be clever about the kicking thing.
“At least, I get scared being around you because … you make me feel not so scared of everything else.”
“Excuse me?”
“Being scared of everything is normal for me. It’s what I know. So not being so scared is …” She paused, searching for the right word. Eventually she settled on: “Weird. I mean, for example, being the centre of attention when you called out my name? I should have run away and hidden. It’s what I would usually do. Ponyfeathers, I once joined a self-help group run by Iron Will because I have trouble being assertive and confident. Yet when I heard you say my name I was … I was happy and that’s just too weird for me.”
“Uh, I’m sorry,” Braeburn started.
“No, don’t be,” she cut him off. “I … I like it. I like feeling … not scared.” She stumbled over her words, as if they weren’t quite what she wanted to say but were the only ones that made it to her lips.
“Would you like to, uh, feel not scared again? Like, maybe, over muffins at Sugar Cube Corner tomorrow?”
Lily gave it some thought. He could see conflict behind her eyes and thought she might say no. However, she met his gaze and said in a voice so tiny even he had trouble hearing it: “Yes. I’d like that. Very much, actually.” Her eyes were shiny with unshed tears.
“Why are you cryin’?” Braeburn asked in alarm. “You don’t have to if you don’t wanna, honest! I won’t get offended none!”
“But I do want to,” she sniffed. “And that … that’s terrifying to me.”
Braeburn had only kissed a few ponies in his life and none in the last few years. Certainly none since he moved to Appleloosa. Despite Grammy Apple Rose’s concerns that he should find a nice mare and settle down, he had been too darn busy to even think about dating. Watching Lily now, however, he was possessed of a sudden, unexpected urge to press his mouth to hers. She blinked up at him, perhaps only to get rid of her tears, but it had a gravitational pull that had him leaning down towards her and –
“Rainbow Dash! What in tarnation are you doin’?”
“What? He was gonna puke so I gave him a bucket. You wanted me to point him at the crowd instead?”
“You gave him the punch bowl!”
The frustrated shouts interrupted them so completely that Braeburn lost count of his steps and tripped over his own hooves. He lurched forward and the Feast Crown struck Lily’s forehead. She reeled and fell backwards. Since he was holding onto her, Braeburn also pitched forward and they landed in a heap. Another pair of dancers tripped over them, taking out a third on their way down. The six ponies flailed, getting more and more entangled with each other.
“Now see what you did!”
“Me? What’d I do?”
“Just help ‘em already before somepony gets hurt!”
Concerned hooves descended on the ruckus, straightening out one pony from another and unsnarling clothing from where it had wrapped around limbs than those of the owner. Braeburn felt someone kick him in the head – he hoped by accident – before he was pulled up to stagger dazedly.
“Careful there, kingy.” Someone supported him before he fell over again. “You were on the bottom of the pile. You might have broken something.”
He felt to make sure he hadn’t lost the crown, but it was still firmly in place. His skull felt slightly dented in the shape of the base. “Lily?” he burbled.
“She’s over here.” Lily was being supported by the yellow pegasus on whom Rainbow Dash had deposited his hat. Up close, he recognised Fluttershy. She still wore his hat, though it kept slipping over her eyes. “I think she’s okay, but her dress got a little, ah, dirty.”
Lily looked down at the big black smears and hoofprints. She sighed as if she had expected something like this would happen. When she looked up, however, she wasn’t upset. Instead, her mouth twitched. Braeburn watched as she raised a foreleg to cover the little snorty giggles she was making.
Fluttershy looked confused. “Is … something funny?”
Lily shook her head but couldn’t speak. Her jewellery, now hanging dishevelled around her face, glittered as her whole body shook with barely repressed laughter.
“See?” Rainbow Dash looked over her shoulder to where Applejack and Rose were holding Noteworthy between them. Beyond her, Daisy leaned heavily on Pokey Pierce, one hind leg raised in a limp. They all looked the worse for wear. “I told you accepting Dumb-Bell’s who-can-eat-the-most challenge wouldn’t cause any problems. You were just overreacting.”
Braeburn didn’t hear his cousin’s response. He was too busy watching Lily laugh for the first time and thinking it was the prettiest thing in the world.
Apple Bloom groaned, holding her little round belly. Big Macintosh laid her on her back in the middle of the cart bed and gently stroked the ringlets off her face before getting down. Applejack hitched him up as Braeburn helped Granny Smith ease herself into her seat. Apple Bloom groaned again, apparently in pain.
“Still think it’s a good idea to eat so much?” Granny asked, rubbing proudly at the trophy Braeburn had given to her for safe-keeping.
“My tummy huuuuuurts!”
“Don’t you worry none, darlin’,” she said more sympathetically. “Once we get home I’ll fetch some tummy tincture for you.”
Apple Bloom groaned even louder. “That stuff tastes nasty!”
“I guess that’ll teach you a lesson about bein’ greedy.” Applejack reared up to hook her forelegs over the side of the cart. She looked down at her sister and blew a wayward wisp of mane from her eyes. Sometime during the Feast she had become completely dishevelled, her beautified appearance giving way to rumpled, dirt-streaked normalcy. There were bits of grass in the back of her mane, which was odd since there had been no grass in the town square, but everyone was too tired or distracted to wonder where they had come from. “Maybe you should write to Princess Celestia about it.”
Braeburn walked alongside the cart when they set off. He had returned the elaborate Feast Crown and regained his own hat. It smelled of rabbit and herbal tea now. Applejack walked alongside him. After a few minutes of silence she veered to nudge his shoulder with her own.
“So, sugar-cube, it looks like visitin’ Ponyville wasn’t such a bad thing for you after all, huh?”
“I never said it was.”
“Ponyfeathers!” Granny Smith exploded from the cart. “You’ve been bellyachin’ ever since you got off the train. By the way, I’ll accept those thanks, now.”
“Thanks?” Applejack and Braeburn said in unison.
Granny Smith nodded and pointed at him. “Nana Knits was about ready to tan your hide like a naughty colt for dumpin’ her poor granddaughter. Leastways, she was until I pointed out that made one less earth pony to distract her from all the pegasi in Cloudsdale. Yes, yes, I know I was the one who told y’all to go off together, but I’m old an’ getting’ old means bein’ allowed to change your mind an’ act like you thought that way from the start.” Her eyes twinkled with far too much youthful mischief for such a wrinkled face.
Braeburn winced. “Was she very mad?”
“At you, not at Blossomforth.”
“I can live with that.” He sighed. He had only met Blossomforth for a few minutes but he hated the idea of causing her any further problems.
“Don’t worry, young ‘un.” Granny Smith’s tone became softer. “Knitsy will accept her granddaughter’s choices someday. Whatever plans she has for that girl, her plannin’ comes second to her love. As soon as she realises that, the happier they’ll both be.”
Braeburn’s head snapped up. Granny Smith gave him a penetrating look and then called for Big Macintosh to mind the bumps in the track, effectively putting an end to the topic.
“So,” Applejack said. “Lucky evenin’ for you, huh, Braeburn?”
“Yup.”
“Good thing we took you along.”
“Yup.”
“Feast King on your first try. Ponyfeathers, if I hadn’t seen it I never would’ve believed it.”
“Yup.”
“Hey, Braeburn, Big Macintosh wants his word back.”
Big Macintosh looked over his shoulder with a smile. “Yup.”
“Do you reckon you’ll be seein’ Lily again?” Applejack asked.
“I reckon so,” Braeburn replied with a small private smile, thinking to the goodbye they had shared after he returned the Feast Crown: sweet and simple but with the promise of so much more. “She’s … she’s real …”
“Real what?”
“Nice.”
“My cousin, the cowpony with the heart of a poet,” Applejack laughed.
“Big Macintosh an’ Braeburn are spoken for now, girl,” Granny Smith called to her. “Your turn next, else Apple Bloom will be findin’ her very special somepony before you do.”
“Oh, we’ll see about that, Granny,” Applejack answered with a private smile of her own. “We’ll see.”
“That. Was. So. Awesome!” Rose hugged herself and twirled down the street.
“Best. Night. Ever!” Daisy agreed. She didn’t twirl, since she was still limping. Doctor Stable had diagnosed a light sprain and told her to keep off it for a few days. She had spent the remainder of the evening sitting on the side-lines with Pokey Pierce, who couldn’t do enough to make sure she was comfortable and well-fed. She even had the leftovers of his vegetable curry in a plastic container. Since she couldn’t hold them and Daisy was busy reliving every dance with Noteworthy, Lily carried all four containers.
“And you, Lily!” Rose twirled to a halt and clapped her hooves together. “Dancing with the Feast King?”
“Awesome!”
“Totally awesome!” Rose dropped to all fours and nodded emphatically. “I declare this evening a resounding success. Nopony will call us the silly-scaredy-ponies again!”
“Yeah!”
“From now on, we’ll be the sultry-sexy-ponies!”
“Yeah!” Daisy held out her hoof for Daisy to bump, then held it out to Lily before thinking better of it.
Lily blew a lock of hair from her eyes. “Actually, I don’t think they will.”
Both Rose and Daisy ground to a stop and stared at her.
“They won’t?” Daisy asked in alarm. “But we tried so hard and didn’t act silly or scaredy all evening.”
Lily shook her head. “I don’t think they’ll call us silly-scaredy-ponies either.”
“Then what will they call us?”
Rose narrowed her eyes. “Lily?” She meant it as a question and so was surprised at the response.
“Exactly.” Lily blew the same lock of hair from her eyes. “Lily Valley, Rose Luck and Oopsy-Daisy. That’s what they’ll call us.”
“But those are just our names!” Daisy protested.
“Exactly.” Lily blew the lock of hair away again before just letting it hang free. Like so many things, it wasn’t worth getting stressed about – a fact she was only just beginning to recognise. “I think I’d rather everypony just knew me for who I am.”
“Very Zen,” Rose said a trifle caustically. “Except that we care what other ponies think of us.”
“Which ponies?”
“Excuse me?”
“Which ponies do you care about? Which ponies do you want to call you by your real names and not some silly nickname? Which ponies do you want to appreciate you for who you are?”
Rose blinked at her. “Did you rehearse this?”
“No.” Lily gave a brittle laugh. She couldn’t quite believe what was coming out of her mouth either. Her heart had wings and her tongue was trying to fly away. “I just spent the evening with a wonderful guy and it kind of changed my perspective on things. Didn’t it change yours?”
Daisy and Rose exchanged a doubtful look, but it was fringed with hope, like a ragged blanket given a new silky trim.
Lily craned her neck up to look at the sky and the huge moon that had been tugged into place tonight. The pegasi had cleared all the errant clouds from Manehatten and enough light shone that even if there had not been streetlights the three earth ponies would have been able to find their way home. She stared at the moon but was looking back at the past few hours, wondering how the heck any of it had even happened. If her friends had not wanted to go, if she had not danced with Pinkie Pie, if Cheerilee and Big Macintosh had not been standing where they were, if she had not hidden beneath the Feast Table, if Braeburn had stayed in Appleloosa, if … if … if …
He would return west again. She knew that. Still, all she was thinking at that moment was his mouth against hers when they had said goodbye. She wanted to hold onto that weightless sensation inside of feeling safe and not afraid of her own shadow. Braeburn wasn’t a big pony like Big Macintosh. He wasn’t as smart as Doctor Stable. He couldn’t dance as well as Pokey Pierce or sing like Noteworthy had when he had joined Rock Angel on stage. He was an ordinary stallion who worked too hard and didn’t often see his own limitations until he stepped over them – and he made Lily feel like she could do more than she ever thought she could.
“Lily? Hey, Lily!”
“Hmm?” She looked at her friends, green spots from the moonlight skittering across her vision. “What?”
“Don’t bother,” Daisy laughed without malice. “She’s too love-struck to answer.”
Lily listened to them laugh and smiled to herself.
“Dagnabbit, is that train ever gonna get here?”
“Patience, Grammy.”
Apple Rose adjusted her parasol and squinted down the tracks. “Is that it? Is it comin’?”
A whistle shrieked, making everyone on the platform wince. Some were waiting to catch the train while others waited for passengers to arrive at this, the last stop on the line. The thunder of approaching hooves grew louder as the minutes passed.
Braeburn gently put out a hoof to stop Apple Rose edging too far forward. She had refused to put her glasses on, as usual, and had trouble seeing without them. She gave him a funny look and a light bop with her parasol.
“I ain’t stupid, niblet. I know where the edge is.”
“Sorry, Grammy.” Braeburn spoke to her but didn’t look at her. He was busy watching the dark speck resolve itself into a line of beefy stallions pulling carriages. He shifted from hoof to hoof involuntarily, then realised what he was doing and made a conscious effort to stop.
Apple Rose gave him another funny look. “You’ve been antsy as a cat on a hot tin roof these whole three months, niblet. I thought sendin’ you to Ponyville would relax you, not make you more stressed. I’m gonna have to have a word with that cousin of mine.”
“Don’t do that, Grammy. Ponyville was great and I’m finer than frog’s hair, honest. Just … a lil’ nervous, is all.” He let out a sigh.
Apple Rose shifted her parasol to her other hoof and patted his shoulder, jostling free the tiny crystal lily necklace he had tucked under his vest for safe-keeping. “If you like her, niblet, then I’m sure I’ll like her.”
He gave her a watery smile. For so long she had been the only mare in his life. He was beyond nervous about how new would mesh with old.
Another whistle shriek made him look up. The train was nearly here. The platform buzzed as it pulled into the station and the doors opened. Ponies pushed and shoved, voices raised into an unintelligible hubbub. Braeburn craned his neck but couldn’t see those stepping out of the carriages properly.
Apple Rose gave him a little shove. “Go on, niblet.”
Gratefully he pushed his way through the crowd to the front, where he scanned the doors. Finally he spotted a splash of pink and yellow looking around with wide amber eyes, a suitcase clutched against her front like a shield. He called her name and she turned towards him, a smile lighting up her face. He made his way to her, grabbed her hoof and fought their way free. Once out of the crowd he hugged her tight.
“Air!” she squeaked.
“Sorry. I just missed you, is all.”
She coughed a little into her hoof but smiled and replied, “Me too. Uh, but for you.”
Braeburn took a breath and turned around. Grammy Apple Rose waited patiently, her rheumy eyes taking in every inch of the scene. He held tight to one pink hoof and went towards her, squeezing to give strength.
“Grammy, this is Lily Valley.”
Lily nodded and surprised him by releasing his hoof and holding it out for the old mare to shake. It was a far more forthright thing than the Lily of six months ago would have done.
“It’s wonderful to finally meet you, ma’am. Braeburn has told me such wonderful things about you.”
“Likewise,” Apple Rose replied. She caught Braeburn’s eye and winked at him. She cleared her throat, reared onto her rickety hind legs and whinnied: “Welcome to Aaaaappleloosa, darlin’.”
Fin.
Author's Note
Originally written for the Collab Cage. I’m only … half a month late. -_-;;
Rose pushed her no-bake blobs of pistachio, vegetables and rosewater onto the Feast Table next to the tortilla casserole.
-- (click for recipe).
“Hey look!” Daisy indicated. “Isn’t that Derpy Hooves?”
Rose and Lily followed the line of her hoof. “It is,” Rose agreed, mouth wide with surprise. “How the heck did SHE manage to snag Time Turner?”
-- Side-fling to my other fic ‘The Art of the Derp’. Go read it if you want to know the full story behind why Rarity and Derpy arrived together. ^_^
… it was Nana Knits who stayed over when Grandpa Albermarle died.
-- Albermarle is a type of apple also known as Newtown Pippin. It was made famous by Thomas Jefferson, who grew them in his orchard at Monticello, and was one of the first ever US apple exports to the UK.
“Hey, Dumb-Bell, don’t let your mouth write cheques that your wings can’t cash!”
-- Dumb-Bell was one of the bullies who challenged filly Dash to the race that led to her first sonic rainboom.
“Well I’d rather scoop out my own eyeballs with a melon baller!”
-- Side-fling to one of my favourite webcomics of all time ‘Shaw Island’, which, sadly, is no longer available but its psychotic beach-crab army and hamster kingdom live on in my heart.
“First off, let’s hear it for our wonderful band, Rock Angel and the Cherubs!”
-- Along with Grandpa Albermarle, Rock Angel is the only OC in this fic. I wanted to use as many canon characters as possible, so all ponies are findable at mlp.wikia. I don’t know who is in the Cherubs, though. Any thoughts on musically themed ponies eligible to be band members?
“In second place is Bon-Bon’s delicious family recipe florentines!”
-- Reference to another fic of mine called 'The Things We Do For …'
“Braeburn Apple’s scrum-diddly-umptious apple twist!”
-- Side-fling to Ned Flanders in The Simpsons.
She smelled, appropriately, like lilies at dusk.
-- Weird but true fact: some varieties of lily really do smell stronger in the evening and at night.
