//------------------------------// // Bedside Manners // Story: Sell Me A Lemon // by Impossible Numbers //------------------------------// She passed a happy forty five minutes in her room before two ponies came in. Presumably, she was supposed to feel warm and fuzzy, or dull and melancholy, upon seeing the old room again. But no. It might as well have been a random hotel. She hadn’t spent much time in there, anyway. Hardly any time to grow attached to the place, even if she hadn’t spent most of her childhood dreaming of castles in the sky, a long way away. For a moment when the door opened, she almost had her heart in her mouth; surely her parents weren’t such martyrs that they’d seek her company again? Anyway, once she’d gotten into her old bedroom, she’d felt oddly at peace, and didn’t want it disturbed by the likes of them. It was Twilight who came in first. Big shock there. Lemon grinned at her and lounged back on the bed. “Here,” she said cheerfully, “watch me pot his lordship right on the mozzie.” She threw the dart. It hit the painting of some old grandfather – right on the muzzle – and stopped quivering. “Ha.” She chuckled. “That’ll leave a mark. Got any drink?” Twilight’s mouth was a thin line. Behind her, peeking over the royal shoulder, was Twinkleshine. A friendly face, if one a bit creased with concern. “Lemon,” said Twilight warningly. “I used to do this when I was a filly.” Lemon tossed another dart and cursed when it bounced off. “I said they could do whatever they liked with the rest of the manor, but my room was my room. Lost a few toys that day. Surely, everyone knows the floor is extra storage space?” “I can’t believe how you were acting at dinner,” said Twilight in full scold. “You may be a rogue, Lemon, but that was extreme even for you.” “Like you’d notice,” muttered Lemon, aiming her next dart. “I didn’t say anything at the time, but I notice it took you long enough to reunite with old friends in Canterlot, eh? Bit of a cheek for you to tell me how I normally behave all of a sudden.” She heard Twilight draw breath for the next barrage. So it was a relief when Twinkleshine said in a sigh, “I do think that could’ve gone better.” Lowering the dart, Lemon puckered her lips as though to kiss a passing thought. “Yes, Ai think it’s safe to say we rather failed to jolly well hit it orf, what?” “Stop it, please. You know what I mean.” “Yes, I do,” said Lemon calmly, “and I ain’t saying sorry. They haven’t changed a bit.” “But –” “What are you doing here, Twinkles?” No answer. Lemon tossed the dart and hit his lordship between the eyes. “They let you come back,” said Twilight – not in a friendly way, but her tone suggested a ceasefire for the moment. “They could have refused. I think you ought to give them both a chance. Your behaviour at dinner wasn’t exemplary, either.” Humming thoughtfully, Lemon stared up and across at the ceiling. Surprising, actually: no cobwebs or dust, no crumbling plaster. Her parents had kept the room clean, at least. A more sentimental bunch might have locked it and left it to go mouldy, as though the sheer disgrace would bring her back determined to dust and wash the place for them. “Why did you run away?” said Twilight. “Aw, now, Miss Sparkles,” said Lemon, clothing her voice with as much wounded innocence as would puzzle a copper. “Have a heart. You want me opening up old wounds just like that? Anyway, can’t you guess?” “You do remember why we’re here, don’t you?” Genuine hurt seeped in. “No one should feel unwelcome in their own parents’ home. Family is one of the most important –” “Yes, well, I’m sure it is for them who has a decent family.” Beneath the painting, the dresser bristled with silver cups and stands and other useless shinies. She’d pulled them down once and used them as dollies out of sheer desperation, only for her mother to make her put them back. What was the point? They didn’t do anything but sit there. “Don’t you remember why we’re here?” said Twilight. “Oh, for pity’s sake,” moaned Lemon to the top of her four-poster bed. “This isn’t a house. This is a prison. And having been to a few of them, I can compare and contrast! At least in prison, they give you interesting stuff to do, like gardening or picking up litter. None of this etiquette rubbish: they didn’t care what you did so long as you didn’t make trouble, and I mean real trouble, not bogus trouble about elbows on tables.” Twilight sighed. “Lemon Hearts, you are a negativist.” Instantly, she sat up. “No, I’m not! I’m as positive a thinker as you can find. Except maybe Lyra.” Shuffling forwards without overtaking the princess, Twinkleshine coughed into her hoof. “‘Negativism’ doesn’t mean that. What she meant was that you refuse to do as you’re told, or you deliberately do the exact opposite.” “No, I don’t!” “Lemon!” said Twilight warningly. “What it comes down to, Your Highness,” said Lemon, and she reached for the curtains, “is that you don’t know my parents. Tell me what you see.” As dramatically as she could, she threw the curtain aside and let the light blaze into the room. Both unicorns politely inspected the view. Then Twinkleshine said, “The sunset is lovely, isn’t it?” “Huh?” Lemon checked. Dark plain below: sky on fire above. So much for natural lighting effects. “Oh, and I can see the evenstar. That one’s always been my favourite from the constellation –” “My point is,” insisted Lemon, “that this is farmland. Most of the country is farmland. If it wasn’t night time, you’d be looking at what two-thirds of Indrabhumi knows. They grow croploads of crops here, because there are croploads of ponies to feed. They even had their own earth pony revolution to grow more food on less land, and still there are croploads of ponies to feed. And some of them go hungry still. A fair few, actually. If us six unicorns stood in for this country, one of us would be starving.” “Who?” Twinkleshine gulped. Lemon waved a hoof airily. “I dunno. Minuette, probably.” She dropped the curtain, and once more plunged them into a cave. “Are you saying,” said Twilight slowly, “that your parents… uh… are well-fed? Is that what this is about?” “No!” Lemon returned to lounging on the bed. “Even the elite suffer a bit. Don’t you remember? Us Lemons were at the back of the queue when they handed out the nobility. Why do you think Dad married Mom in the first place?” “Because they love each other,” said Twinkleshine with a dreamy sigh. “This is one of the most romantic –” “HA! The heck they did! Dad had a title and nothing else by the time he got to be a proper Lord. So this loving little family, Twinkles, got started because one half needed a quick buck from the other half. It was either marry the money or be forced onto the street. And they think they’re better than a bunch of nobodies mucking in the mud? At least farmers do something for society.” “Lemon –” said Twinkleshine. “I used to muck in the mud! It was fun! Oh, but apparently ‘fun’ doesn’t exist in their perfect little world.” “Lemon Hearts,” said Twilight, stepping in her line of sight like an unwelcome moon. “I appreciate they’re not the most… open-minded of ponies, but their bad behaviour doesn’t excuse yours. If this trip is so important to you, then you can’t wait for them to change their minds all of a sudden. You have to reach out to them. Meet them halfway.” Lemon screwed up her lips. Not only was she running out of catty remarks, but the creeping heat was taking over her chest again. The mere memory of dinner was making her sick. Still, she’d be blowed if she’d crack first. Twilight continued, “There was nothing exemplary about the way you behaved at dinner. It was being provocative, and I think you know that. Please, I thought you were committed.” “I am!” she snapped. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember ordering a roasting for dinner! And I sure as sugar didn’t order one for bed!” She threw the last dart. It knocked the painting off the wall and smashed onto the dresser, knocking ornaments onto the carpet. Delivered of that parting shot, she rolled over and silently hated herself. The dark wall was not so dark as to hide their silhouettes. She saw Twilight throw her head back and heard her growl in frustration. Well, she could take it. Twilight was an amateur when it came to heart-stabbing rants. She saw Twinkleshine place a hoof on the royal shoulder. “Twilight? May I?” “Oh. Fine. I’m at my wit’s end, I really am.” Twilight’s shadow smoothed its mane down. “I’ll talk to her parents and see if I can smooth things over with them.” Twinkleshine patted her gently, and her shadow turned to watch as the other ducked down and vanished from view. A flash of magic, and Twilight’s hoofsteps vanished. Whereupon, Lemon let out a breath. “She’s not eavesdropping, is she?” were her first real words. Hoofsteps, the creak of a door, the tingle of magic in the air… “No, it’s all clear. Just the two of us.” “Oh, thank goodness.” Lemon rolled onto her back again and spread her limbs like a melting ice block over a volcano. Although the white horn and pink curls of Twinkleshine were peeking into her field of view, she didn’t bring herself to actually meet her friend’s eye. “You know something, Twinkleshine?” “Yes, Lemon?” said Twinkleshine calmly. “I had a look on a map before I came here.” “Uh huh?” “I saw something I thought you might like.” “Oh? That’s very thoughtful of you.” “There’s an observatory here.” Silence lurked in ambush. It was that moment when a harmless patch of grassland suddenly resolved into a crouching cheetah, poised to strike. Lemon could hear her thinking. When it came to earthy problems, Twinkleshine was as meek and unassuming as a butterfly with albinism. When it came to anything further away than the moon, however, she was… well, it’d be hard to imagine an insect that could do her justice. Some monstrous hybrid of mantis, wasp, and black widow spider would probably come close, if it was also as quick as lightning and impossible to kill. “Really close to here?” Twinkleshine said, and her voice crept with claws, pincers, and fangs rising. “A way into the mountains. It’s a bit of a walk, but you could spend a good long night there and make it back for breakfast.” “That’d be the Supreme Mania Observatory.” “Oh, you know it?” “Lemon Hearts, I know everything about every observatory that ever existed.” “Yes, well, I thought you might like to visit.” “How thoughtful of you.” “In fact.” “Yes?” “They have an omnibus service up that way. You’d still have to walk, but it’d shave some time off your journey –” “No, thank you. One takes the wheel when one has ordinary work to do, but for this… but for a pilgrimage… for a place of such sacrosanct… such wonder… such scope… such a tribute to cosmic beauty and the lights of the void… No, thank you. I shall gladly walk.” “Er… won’t your hooves get scuffed?” “I shall wear such scuffs with pride.” Lemon flinched. For the moment, she was glad she couldn’t see Twinkleshine’s face. Her own heart was jumpy enough as it was. “So… now Twilight’s gone,” Lemon said. The meek little butterfly flitted out again, and the coast was clear. “Lemon, please see reason. Twilight – all of us – are here to help you.” Lemon bit her lip before speaking. “You I can trust. Her? If she’s here to help, she could start by not taking my parents’ side against me.” “She’s not taking their side. She can’t take sides. She’s a princess. Princesses don’t take sides. Anyway, she didn’t choose to be a princess.” Now Lemon choked and sat up at the enormity of this claim. “Didn’t choose to be a princess? Please, Twinkles, think. She was going to be princess from the get-go. I’ll bet the moment she set foot in the school, she was groomed by Celestia!” There was a pause. Disbelieving strains stretched Twinkleshine’s lips. “Groomed?” she said. “What, like monkeys?” “Groomed to become a princess, I was going to say.” “Oh.” “‘What, like monkeys’… Do they look like bloomin’ monkeys to you?” “N-No.” Lemon fell back with a bounce. She liked this bed. It was a crime, having to come here just to enjoy a bed as nice as this. “Twinkleshine?” she said to the air over her. “Yes?” said Twinkleshine, more softly than before. Lemon fancied she felt the mare’s breath tickle her fringe. “You know I want to get along with them, right?” “You were very convincing the other way.” “I know, I know. Every time I have to put up with their uptight, out-of-date, narrow-minded, stupid –” She took a breath. The room was so cold. Maybe it had always been. A bright idea struck her. “Say,” she said, “d’you reckon this is it? I could be the one who changes them.” “Er, isn’t that a bit… presumptuous?” Lemon’s forelimbs waved as though painting the scenes before her. “Yeah, yeah, I could help them to relax. Show them the Ponyville way, not the Canterlot way. Maybe I could even make something of them! That must be it! That must be why I never turned out so well.” “I don’t follow you.” “Look, look, look: it’s simple. I’m a washout, right? And they’re washouts. All I have to do is get them to think from a different angle, right, and then I get them to open up a bit, we dance, we smile, heartwarming ensues, and then I go back home with a share of the profit – I mean, with a newfound appreciation of who I am, and I could do something with that, maybe start up a new business, or take up poetry or go back to school as an adult learner –” “Lemon?” Her thoughts – no more stable than a card tower on a train – jolted and crumbled. Happy families smiled on their way down. It was a relief; ponies like her parents and Twilight made her hiss and swipe like a cornered cat, but a pony like Twinkleshine only had to speak like a purr, and she’d be a perfect little tabby again. Or some kind of street cat, anyway, with a little more pampering. “Yeah?” she said, covering her stomach as though expecting a belly rub. Whatever it was, Twinkleshine didn’t want to say it immediately; she hummed. “You knew all this from the beginning, didn’t you?” she said. The words were not a challenge. They held her down, yes, but it was up to her whether she struggled. Lemon felt heavy in the limbs, which thumped onto the bed again. “Yes,” she said. “Something happened, and I don’t think it was just another tiff.” “I don’t want to talk about it.” “But we never talk about your family. Even when we were at school, you never talked about it. Don’t you trust us?” “If you must know, I stayed with an uncle in Canterlot.” “Oh. Well, that seems harmless enough. So how come you never –” “He thought he was dead.” In the silence, another silver ornament rolled off the dresser and thumped on the carpet. Darkness rocked her as though to sleep. It really was too late for this, and she wasn’t thinking clearly. “Um…” She could hear Twinkleshine blush. Tinkling squeaks entered her voice. “Thought he was… dead?” “Yeah. Corsage Delusion, or something. Apparently, he came back from the garrison with his brains muddled up. So, since he was dead –” “But, but surely a pony would notice they’re not dead? Breathing, blood, and so on.” “We tried it. He just said it was ghostly breathing. The really embarrassing bit was when he tried walking through walls.” “Oh my goodness.” “He said he was haunting me, see.” “I’m so sorry.” “So, since he was dead, he tried leaving his fortune to me, only the lawyers wouldn’t accept it, so he just gave me an allowance and pretended he was alive to hoodwink anyone who asked. Don’t ask.” “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” On the bed, Lemon dug into the quilt with her shrug. “I didn’t tell you. It’s not your fault. It’s mine.” “I wish you’d told me. It must have been awful.” She screwed up her face, picturing a scraggly beard and a broad mouth booming with laughter. “Ah, no. He wasn’t so bad. Left me be, for the most part. Said the dead shouldn’t bother the living too much. Got me my official Canterlot citizenship before the loony bin caught up with him, and since no one could prove he’d been mad when he’d got it for me, they let me keep it.” Her syllables stretching with thought, Twinkleshine added, “Sooooo… hooooow exaaaaactly did you get there?” “Get where?” Sweat crept along Lemon’s skin. “To Canterlot. Your uncle couldn’t have taken you there, and I don’t think your parents did. How did you get from Indrabhumi to Equestria?” Lemon felt as though sealed in a tomb with cobras slithering all over her. The air pressed down too hard, the quilt was stone, the cold rushed along her, and she expected any minute the stab of venom… But Twinkleshine won a prize that night. She settled for a gentle nudge along Lemon’s cheek, and held her warmth there, sharing the light of a candle for Lemon’s own dead wick. The tomb and the cobras faded; she was safe in her bed again. After a whole night and yet too soon, Twinkleshine’s candle warmth drew away. “Is there anything else I can do?” Lemon shook her head, scraping the curls along the frayed silk. Already, the dreams were taking over her mind, and her tongue was done for the day. The hinges didn’t even creak; that’s how clean the room was. Yet she knew Twinkleshine had slipped out. The mare floated away like the glowing edge of a wandering flame. Left to her memories, Lemon allowed them to seep in. Of a cold road, fading to mist. Of brick walls on either side, flecked with moss and lichen. Of the rain, plastering her mane to her head. Jabbing aches ran up her spine, but she was too stunned by her own exhaustion to move. Her spine wasn’t used to a comfortable bed. Perhaps she’d tell them. Just… not right now. For the moment, she was gliding on the pretence that this was all getting somewhere.