How To Train Your Batpony

by peter

Chapter 9 How not to marry a Prince, part one

Welcome back to the story after our brief intermission. If everybody has refilled their sodas, gotten popcorn, and returned to your seats, we can get started again. Enjoy the show, and we hope you like it.

But first an apology to my former readers, and my editors who were so much help to me back when I was working on this. I’m so very sorry I let time get away from me and I abandoned both the story and you. This chapter is me shaking the dust off, and trying to wrap up a few threads so I can get back to what should be the main focus of this story arc. Namely, training a certain batpony.

Once again, Sorry,
Peter.

Previously on, How To Train Your Batpony. Apple Bloom’s cousin Babs Seed has come to visit. Unfortunately (and to her great discomfort) she brought along the terrible teenaged Tower Twins, Pearl, and Tourmaline. Not content with bullying Babs in Manehatten, they’ve decided (despite their young age) to do a little husband hunting. In particular, they’ve set their eyes on the far-too-young Prince Jake Apple. At the same time, heart-hurt Silver Spoon, feeling abandoned by her only social equal, Diamond Tiara, has fallen under the Twin’s influence.

On another front, Curry Comb discovered a magical book incorrectly packed in Sweetie Belle’s saddle bag by her sister Rarity. After Sweetie Belle nearly burned down the CMC’s clubhouse with a spell from the book Diamond Tiara confiscated the book and hid it.

It was a fine morning in Ponyville. This was not the mundane statement it would have been anywhere else in Equestria. A pony did not simply stick her head out the window, bask in the sunlight while taking a breath of fresh air, and then declare it looked like it was going to be a fine day.

No, the first thing that a Ponyville pony did was check to see if the town hall was on fire, again. In the event that the town hall was not in the process of burning the ground, the pony in question would check the string of signal flags hanging across the front of the clock tower for potential warnings.

No rampaging monsters from the depth of Tartarus, check.
No plague of parasprites, check.
No stampedes of cows, or adorable bunnies, check.
The Cutie Mark Crusaders were separated, at home and, presumably sleeping, check.
No celestial beast from the Everfree rampaging through town, check.
The most powerful unicorn in Equestria was not having a panic attack, and/or, caught up in researching into a subject not meant for ponies to know, and/or having an epic battle for the fate of all of Equestria in town, check.

Only then did the canny citizen, in this case Carrot Top, check the blue sky, empty except for some strategically placed clouds, enjoy the warm golden glow of Celestia’s sun beaming as benevolently as its mistress, and declare that it did indeed look like a fine, fine day with little chance of ‘horrors.’

Sleepy store owners were sweeping their walks and shouting out greetings to each other. The air was full of chatter from the townsponies who were going to and fro in the street as they prepared for yet another day of work and play.

Many of the towns early risers were heading to Fro’s, home of Equestria’s famous Fresh Roasted Oats,(™) the breakfast of the working pony. Every morning, customers lined up for a steaming to-go feedbag, bringing a smile to sleepy faces and the rich scent of warm cream and brown sugar to the surrounding streets.

Battling the inward tide of hungry sleepy ponies while carefully carrying a basket in her mouth was Silver Spoon, who had been waiting outside the door, half asleep, but first in line when the cafe had opened. She stifled a yawn once she was safely out in the street, and looked around with bleary sleep-crusted eyes as she fought the mental muzzie-wuzzies in order to remember the next stop on her itinerary.

“Oh, right. Sugarcube corner.”

The bakery was every bit as crowded as Fro’s, but Silver Spoon took advantage of her smaller stature to weave between the legs of the adults till she reached the counter where her pre-order from the day before was waiting for her.

Thankfully, there were no interruptions while Mrs. Cake loaded the half-dozen premiums muffins into the second level of Silver Spoon’s Manehatten-made special take-out basket.

“Keeps the hot things hot, and the cold things cold, and looks fabulous in the process”

Once she was back out in the street, Silver Spoon heaved a sigh of relief at having dodged a Pinkie Pie encounter, and then almost had her heart stop when that exact pony bounced into view from what seemed like thin air.

“Silver Spoon! Just the pony I wanted to see. Tell me, tell me, tell me! Did your friends enjoy their welcome to Ponyville party? I hope so. It’s so hard to party plan for identical twins. Do you go for the identical part, and make everything the same? Orrrrr, do you try to find what’s unique about each one and make sure there are special touches just for each of them? So did I hit it out of the park? Strike it on the nose? Nail it?”

It was far too early on any normal morning for Silver Spoon to cope with Pinkie on her first sugar rush of the day, and doubly so this day. Mumbling around the handle of her basket she said, “They said they’d never been to a party like it.”

“They did? Oh, that’s such a relief.” Pinkie said, giving a huge sigh and wiping imaginary sweat from her brow.  She looked over her shoulder where a pony jam had formed in the doorway to the shop. She jumped into the fray, putting shoulder to plot, and shoved while shouting over her shoulder, “Have a good morning, Silver Spoon. Tell Pearl and Tourmaline hi from me.”

“Sure will,” Silver Spoon replied, and then in a much softer voice finished, “not.”

As she trotted back toward the Tower Twin’s rental house, Silver Spoon could not help feeling, once again, her lack of true culture. She’d been sure in her superiority and sophistication over all her Ponyville peers. But after three days shadowing the twins, she was now fully aware of just what a total hick she was in comparison to true elites. Pinkie and her parties were a prime example. The twins had given every indication of enjoying the party, but on the way home, they had regaled each other with tales of the lame ponies they had spotted at the lame party, thrown by the lame party pony. It had been a real eye-opener for Silver Spoon who could have sworn that the two Manehattanites had the time of their life at the party, especially Pearl who had spent more than a little time in the storage closet with one of the local teenage colts.

As she neared her destination, Silver Spoon glanced up the road toward the Rich estate with a bitter ache in her heart. The place where she had spent so much of her foalhood seemed so distant like it had happened to another pony. Where had her precious Diamond Tiara gone? That pony had been so cool, so superior. Now she was just another dirty, dirt grubbing, clod kicking, sweaty, farm pony. Silver Spoon wouldn’t be surprised at all if one of these days Diamond Tiara’s Cutie Mark vanished because she had betrayed all of the class and sophistication that made her so special. Worse of all, Diamond Tiara had turned her back on her oldest dearest friend.

Her.

For a moment, anger at her friend’s betrayal filled her heart but was quickly quashed. This was not Diamond Tiara’s fault. That sneaky untrustworthy scrawny snipe had tricked her. It had dangled the promise of princesshood in front of her, then turned around to do the exact opposite and Diamond Tiara, bless her heart, was too kind, caring, and soft-hearted to realize how badly she was being betrayed. Banished to a dirty farm by her own father, surrounded by hicks and blank flanks, she couldn’t see what was so obvious to Silver Spoon. As a true friend, it was Silver Spoon’s duty to separate her best friend and only social equal in town from the corrupting influence of all those lame ponies.

But where was she going to get a sack, a polo mallet, and three bags of Cheez-its?

Once again, Silver’s Spoon’s gaze shifted to the Rich estate, and an idea sprang to mind. Maybe that was the solution to her problem. Keeping that thought at the top of her mind, Silver Spoon broke into a quick trot. She would have to be quick. She didn’t want the twins thinking she was incompetent by bringing their breakfast late and cold.

Ten minutes later, an out-of-breath Silver Spoon leaned gasping against a rather large and ugly lawn ornament in the middle of the Rich’s carefully groomed estate. The expensive ceramic abomination was supposed to represent some historic guardspony diligently keeping watch over the begonias and tulip beds. Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon had often joked that he looked more like he was in desperate need of a bathroom break.

Long ago, an accident with a hard-kicked hoofball had broken a chunk off the statue. The two fillies had scrounged supplies from the handypony’s shed and with some fabric and glue they had managed to – sort of – repair it. Halfway through the repair, Diamond Tiara had realized that if they only secured one side of the broken piece, they could swing it open whenever they wanted and use the hollow inside of the statue as their own secret personal private vault. The treasures within had gone from Yo-Yos, toy tops, to costume jewelry and purloined makeup and eventually a ribbon-wrapped bundle of unsent love letters written by both Silver Spoon and Diamond Tiara to various studly carthorses who worked for the Rich Emporium. None of those were Silver Spoon’s target. What she was after was Diamond Tiara’s ultra-secret, never to be shown to anypony, private journal.

Silver Spoon pulled open the fabric-hinged chunk of ceramic and swung it out of her way before shoving her hoof inside. While she did so she twisted her head back and forth, looking all around the yard for as far as she could see. Even though she knew it was the right thing to do, she couldn’t keep from feeling guilty at violating Diamond Tiara’s trust. She was sure that at any moment some pony would pop out of nowhere and ask her what the hay she thought she was doing.

Feeling around inside the statue, Silver Spoon finally touched the journal. Hastily yanking it out, she stuffed it into her basket without looking. She barely took the time to close the hatch before sprinting from the estate, as if at any moment dogs would be released and set baying on her trail.

But, despite her panicked gallop, she was satisfied. All she had to do was slip the journal into the room Diamond Tiara shared with that blank flank Apple Bloom, someplace the hick could not miss finding it, and Diamond Tiara would be saved. Once Apple Bloom and her friends read the contents, they’d ostracize Diamond Tiara, and her friend would believe the blank flanks had stolen it from its hiding spot. With no pony else extending the hoof of friendship, she’d return to her one true friend, Silver Spoon.

When Silver Spoon pulled open the rental house’s door, she heard Pearl’s cultured voice in full exasperation mode. “Really, is it too much to ask for one competent servant?”

“What can you expect in a place like this, sister mine?” Tourmaline replied in a tone of languid ennui.  

Out of sight of the twins, Silver Spoon nodded in agreement. Her own family’s maid treated her as if she was still a child, and thought nothing of sitting down at the dining table with the family once she had served them. So Silver Spoon could sympathize fully with Pearl. The servant situation in Ponyville was dreadful.

Pearl’s complaints had only begun. “And these low bred ponies all seem to think we’re idiots. If I have to listen to one more hay-chewing yokel try to tell me that the prince is living on some common earth pony farm, I swear I will scream. Like, did they all have a meeting and decide that would be the joke of the week?”

Silver Spoon winced. She couldn’t really blame the twins. If somepony had told her that story, she would have had the same reaction. She knew for a fact that it was true and she still had a hard time believing it. Far be it from her to tell Princess Celestia how to run the country, but the elder ruler must be going senile to have let Prince Jake be adopted by that dumb pony, Big Mac. Sure, the big red hayseed was the biggest stud in Ponyville, but getting him to string two words together was next to impossible. There were so many other ponies who would have been much more suitable a parental figure. For a moment she thought of Filthy Rich, but that thought led to Spoiled Rich. Silver Spoon shuddered. So maybe the Apples weren’t the worst choice, but there had to have been better ones.

Butting the door with her head, Silver Spoon bounced it open and stepped into the room. Two heads swiveled as one, and Pearl exclaimed, “At last! I’m so famished even the slop they pass off as food in this village will taste palatable.”

While her sister was talking, Tourmaline reached out with her magic and took the basket from Silver Spoon. The lovely pony really must have been famished, because she nearly took out a few of Silver Spoon’s teeth when she snatched the container. So fast in fact that Silver Spoon didn’t have time to retrieve Diamond Tiara’s journal from the basket before it was out of her reach. “Um, Tourmaline—?”

Pearl huffed, “Yes, yes, we’re oh so very grateful for your efforts, Pewter. Now run along and do whatever it is you do around here.”

“Um, it’s Silver—” Once again, the young filly was cut off, this time by Tourmaline’s magic shoving her out the door and shutting it in her face. “I’ll just be going then?” Silver Spoon said to the closed door, before backing out of the room and then the house.

Standing on the street, her belly roiled in discomfort, Silver Spoon shuffled her hooves while trying not to cry. What was she going to do? She didn’t know what would be worse: if the twins were to read Diamond Tiara’s journal, or if they were to simply toss it in the garbage as trash. If they read it and then talked about parts of it in public, Diamond Tiara would be humiliated beyond measure. It might even drive her further into the grip of that evil snipe. If they tossed it in the trash, sooner or later Diamond Tiara would discover it was missing and would know who had taken it. Admitting that she could not return the precious document would scuttle their friendship even worse than it already was. Was any pony as unfortunate as her?

“Worst! Friend! Ever!” Rarity declaimed as she continued to turn the Carousel Boutique upside down. All the brick-a-brack she had shoveled into Sweetie Belle’s room the day before lay scattered all over her main floor, along with all the rest of the contents of the room, including Sweetie Belle’s bed. But no matter how hard Rarity looked, she could not find the missing item.

“Twilight will be devastated!” Rarity moaned. “I can’t find Princess Celestia’s book anywhere. She’s never going to forgive me. I don’t deserve forgiveness! How could I be such a terrible friend?”

“That isn’t true. You’re a great friend.” The draconic voice seemed to come from thin air, but a lump moving around one of the piles of fabric revealed the source. “I’m sure you just misplaced it. We’ll find it. Sooner or later.” Spike was doing his usual job of presenting an optimistic front for Rarity, but there might have been a touch of doubt present in that last statement. Still, out of all of her friends, Rarity considered the young dragon to be the most comforting in her times of panic.

A knock on the door caused Rarity to twitch like a rabbit that had just heard a twig break behind it. Dreading that it would be Twilight, or even worse, Princess Celestia, Rarity reached out with her magic and opened the door, keeping herself well clear of the potential blast zone.

She heaved a visible sigh of relief at seeing the two stallions on the other side. “Oh, it’s only you. Fancy Pants. Wooshter. Did we have an appointment? I’m afraid my thoughts are scattered at the moment and if we did it has totally slipped my mind. If we did, I am so very sorry. I’m having a bit of a personal crisis at the moment and will not be able to keep it.”

“Anything we can do to help, m’lady?” Fancy Pants offered at once, although the gangley stallion at his side was only a few words behind.

“What ho!” offered Wooshter with a confident swagger.  “A damsel in distress. Always ready to lend a hoof to a frazzled filly in need. Just point us at your dragon and I’ll happily slay it for you.”

“I heard that!” The mound of cloth and scattered items shifted as Spike popped into view and directed a disdainful look at the two stallions. “Rarity has all the help she needs,” he informed them with a haughty air. Turning to Rarity he shifted his expression to one of adoration while nearly purring, “Sorry, Rarity. No sign of it in that pile. Can you think of anywhere else to look?”

With the easy habit of someone who was well acquainted with the taste of his own hoof, Wooshter gave a loud guffaw. “That’s me, stepping in it as usual. Terribly sorry, old bean.”

Fancy Pants stepped forward with a brief nod of assurance. “Wooshter’s faux pas aside, we are quite pleased to offer whatever assistance you need during this troubled time. You are a dear friend and Wooshter–” Fancy Pants hesitated “–is Wooshter.”

“Darling, that is most kind of you, I’m sure. But I’m afraid this is a disaster of my own making, and it is one I must solve by myself.” There was a cough behind her, and Rarity shifted her verbal gears instantly as she added. “Assisted by my faithful Spike, of course.”

“That’s right, assisted by me. No other pony need apply,” Spike said aggressively as he strutted up to the doorway and looked at Fancy Pants with his chest thrust out. The effect was slightly spoiled by the fact that from this close up, Spike had to bend his head all the way back just to see up the dapper pony’s nose.

“We will leave you to it then. But in the event that we can be of any assistance, you need only ask.”

Fancy Pants turned to leave, but Wooshter stopped him before they could get off the doorstep. “Wot ho, there old chum. Hold a moment. We had a question. If I can remember what it was” Wooshter tapped his nose with one hoof as he entered what was — for him — deep thought, but before Fancy Pants could jump-start his erratic speech processes, there was a nearly audible spark and his mouth sprang back into motion.

“Ah, Ha! I remember now. Sorry the young lady has a problem and all that, and we’re happy to assist, but this was a very important question. To me, anyway. Maybe not so much to anypony else. And dash it all, I’ve forgotten it again.” Looking directly at Rarity for all of two seconds before his gaze shifted away from her red-rimmed and frankly slightly incandescent gaze, Wooshter gave a cough before asking, “Was wondering if you’d had a chance to break the ice with the chit’s mother. Only, I feel like there is a bally sword of Damocles hanging over my neck. Already got one letter from my aunt asking if I’d done the deed, and saying she has an appointment with her lawyer next week. Dash inconvenient if I were to be cut off. I might have to find a job.” Wooshter gave a shudder at the last bit, his skin shivering as if a thousand biting horse flies had suddenly landed on him.

Rarity’s In-Front-Of-Handsome-And-Eligible-Stallion manners were starting to fray, so before she lost all decorum she said with as much control as she could manage, “Talk to Pinkie Pie. You may find her at Sugarcube Corner. If not there, Mrs. Cake will be able to direct you further. That is if Pinkie Pie doesn’t find you first. She is excellent at breaking the ice between strangers. Now, I am most sorry, but I really can not delay my search.”

Shutting the door firmly in the muzzles of the two stallions, Rarity turned to face her disorganized room. Almost before the echo of the door had finished sounding, a touch of magic had her detectiving slouch hat floated through the air and onto her head. If Curry had been witness to the scene, it would have confirmed her belief that Rarity’s creations had magical qualities. As soon as the hat settled onto Rarity’s head, her face grew determined and all signs of the helpless damsel vanished, to be replaced by the fashionable and glamorous Detective Rarity. Using a nearby swatch of fabric, she cleaned the running mascara from her face and adopted a firm posture. Carefully arranging her special hat so it was cocked at just the right angle to give her a look of mystery, she then extracted two items from the pile in the middle of the room and floated them over to Spike.

“Come, my faithful associate. The game is ahoof. We have a purloined epistle to hunt down.”

“Are you channeling Twilight?” Spike asked as he examined his gifts with pleasure. “You could have just said book.”

Wooshter was left rubbing his nose while standing on Rarity’s doorstep, although Fancy Pants was far enough back that he merely blinked in surprise.

The well-dressed stallion could not remember the last time a mare had shut a door in his face, which made a smile twitch at the corner of his lip. He had grown afraid that his initial impression of Miss Rarity Belle over the last few months had been mistaken, and that she was simply another status-starved mare. But any lady as attractive and intriguing as Rarity, who could dismiss him as if he were an annoying door to door salespony, might prove to have unseen depths worth exploring.