//------------------------------// // Chapter 5 // Story: Of Thistles and Honey // by D4ftP0ny //------------------------------// It was a beautiful autumn day in Whinnyapolis, certainly not one that any sane pony would spend inside if they didn’t have to; and if there was anything that could be said about Thistledown, it was that she was as sane a pony as ever there was. The amethyst mare wiped a hoof across her brow and readjusted the handkerchief that was tied around her head, smiling down at the bright green leaves of her plants. The golden rays of the sun danced across the varied vegetables and flowers in her small garden, their colors shimmering before her eyes as a gentle breeze teased them. The earth pony mare smiled at her small plants; autumn was wearing on, and it would soon be time to harvest her hard work for the season. She reached out a hoof and touched one of the plump bell peppers that hung off of a plant, her smile soft. Very little in this world made Thistledown smile like fresh growing things and good tilled earth, but the love she had for her daughter dwarfed any love she had for plants. The thought of Honeysuckle brought Thistledown’s eyes to the sun, which was beginning its descent towards the western horizon. Honey should be getting out of school soon, she thought to herself as she turned towards the house. I’ll see about getting a snack together for her. She wound her way back through the extensive garden, which took up twice the space that her house did, and ascended the two small steps that brought her to her back door. The purple mare sighed contently as she entered the interior of the house, the shade falling across her face like the touch of a cool wind where the sun had been moments before. Her house was not fashionably decorated, nor grand in design; in fact, it was built in very similar style to Applejack’s farmhouse in Ponyville- simple and functional. The back door led into a small porch that contained three doors; two on the walls, one to the exterior of the home and one to the interior, and one to Thistle’s left that led straight down into the cellar, where she stored her goods until it was time to sell them. She pushed the second door open and entered the kitchen, a modest room with a small island and ample counter space, all finished in light wood and white tile that gave it a bright, welcoming feel. She paused at the sink, washing her hooves and using a towel to wipe the dirt from her face as she discarded the handkerchief tied around her forehead and mane. She shook her emerald mane out and wished for a brush, but that would be upstairs in her bedroom and very much out of the way right then; so with a mental note to get it as soon as she was finished, Thistledown set about making her daughter an after-school snack. Several stalks of celery, a few pieces of an apple (one of the many she’d purchased and had sent from Sweet Apple Acres) and a large glob of peanut butter on a plate would certainly sate her undoubtedly hungry filly. As she set about slicing the celery with a knife, her eyes went to one of the many pictures that adorned her home; it was a miracle that so many survived the dragon that had ravaged their town, and one for which she gave thanks every day. This particular picture, however, caused her to slow down in her slicing and brought a slow, subtle ache to her heart. It was framed simply with dark cherry wood, and within it two ponies nuzzled one another’s cheeks; a mare with a deep green mane and purple coat, and a bright orange stallion with a dusty brown mane and brilliant blue eyes. The mare had her eyes closed- obviously enjoying the closeness of the stallion- but the look in the stallion’s eyes said it all; it was a look of absolute adoration for the mare, one that said he would do anything for her, anything and everything. Thistledown sighed and the chopping of the celery sped back up. She had not kept many pictures of her late husband up in the home; she had MANY, certainly, but they were tucked safely away in the cellar in magically-protected boxes that had saved them from fire and any number of other things over the years. Having too many pictures of him up had only served to remind her of his loss, but this picture she could never bring herself to take from the kitchen; it was the picture of the two of them the night he had asked her to marry him, a night that Thistledown remembered vividly, and one of the few memories that brought her more happiness than grief. She couldn’t help but sigh as she lifted the celery onto a plate with her hooves. Steady Plow had been as true as his name; he had been a calm and collected pony with an infectious zeal for life, as well as the most positive attitude Thistledown had ever seen. She remembered many times in their life when things had looked bleak- be it because of financial troubles, family problems or simply problems with one another- and she herself had thought that things looked hopeless, Steady had simply smiled that wide, gentle smile of his and said his favorite phrase: “Thistledown, bad things don’t happen to good ponies for no reason. Everything has a purpose, even if we can’t see it.” The sliced apple made its way onto the plate next to the celery, Thistle unconsciously arranging the plate so that the celery sticks alternated with the apple slices in a wagon-wheel shape. She could not count the number of times Steady had said that to her; she DID know that it was almost the same amount of times she had almost thrown something at him in frustration when he’d said it… but she couldn’t doubt his resolve. He stuck to that belief his entire life, and his steadfastness saw them through. Even when he fell sick, and nopony anywhere could find any reason why a strong, healthy stallion had simply fallen ill and couldn’t get better, he would not let her be mad. Thistle opened the jar of peanut butter and absentmindedly spooned a large glop of the creamy tan substance onto the middle of the plate. She could still see his face, gaunt and tired as he lay in his bed. She had been so mad… mad at him, mad at whatever had gotten him sick, mad at the entire world… and he had taken her hoof in his and given it a squeeze. “Everything has a reason, Thistle,” he’d said to her. “Even this illness… even me bein’ taken away from you and Honey. It’s not fair, and it ain’t going to be easy for you… but you just have to trust me, and trust in whatever powers’re turning our world.” Even on his deathbed, that stubborn pony made me feel like things would be okay. She lifted the plate with her teeth and carried it to the table in the dining room. I don’t care what they said his special talent was; his real talent was getting me to believe that they would be. She set the plate down and sighed before casting a glance around the home. And I almost did… She had begun life anew when Steady had passed away; she had taken it on herself to raise Honeysuckle as best as she could by herself and, to her credit, she had always been told how well-behaved and well-rounded Honeysuckle was. Together, mother and daughter had settled into a routine, and life had started to feel almost normal again… And then the fire, and the dragon, and Ponyville had happened. And then I met him. Even thinking about him caused her to grit her teeth together slightly, but her anger towards the gray Pegasus didn’t stop the ache that rose above the old, deep one and pulse pain anew into her heart. Thistledown sighed and cast her eyes to the clock that stood atop her mantelpiece; it read 3:30 on the nose, and the mare seated herself at the table, placing a smile she hoped looked genuine to her daughter onto her face. Honey would be home any moment, and she didn’t want her to see the memories and feelings that had painted her face for the past half hour. She didn’t need to worry about her mother; Thistle wanted Honeysuckle to worry about herself, and not her momma. And so Thistle waited. …and waited. …and waited… ~*~*~*~*~*~ The clock read 4:40 as Thistledown paced the hall from the living room to the kitchen, her hooves clopping against the wood floor as followed the same circuit she had been making for the past 45 minutes. She kept throwing anxious glances at the clock, half trying to convince herself that the clock was just broken… but that argument never stuck. Honeysuckle was an hour and ten minutes late, and that was very unlike her. “She’s always on time,” Thistle said to herself in a voice laced with worry. “She never dawdles after school with friends, and she never stops for more than a few minutes here and there to speak to the street vendors, even Mrs. Vines, and that mare can gab.” She turned in the kitchen and made her way back towards the living room, her eyes darting out the front windows as she did so, hoping and praying that she would spy a bobbing pink and white mane, but her heart sank once more as yet again her desperate wish yielded nothing. “Honeysuckle never gets held after school, and somepony would have notified me if she had to…” As quick as she could (and for the hundredth time) Thistledown searched her memory for any notices that may have come home, be they for detention or a field trip or even for an after-school event, but nothing of the sort came to mind. She paced the living room once, circling the small table in front of the couch before making her way back to the kitchen. For what felt like the thousandth time she fought the urge to dart from the house and begin searching for Honey herself, but the last thing she wanted was for Honeysuckle to come home to an empty house while she was out; after all, then Honey might leave searching for her, and the mess would only get bigger… and so she settled on circling the island in the kitchen, her chest tight with worry as she waited with unbelievable impatience for some word of her daughter. She turned back towards the living room when she heard the front door of her home open tentatively, the hinge squeaking softly as it opened. Her ears perked straight up. “Honeysuckle?!” she called. “Is that you?!” An agonizing silence, and then a happy, “Yes Momma, it’s me!” Thistledown felt like she might explode with relief, but the cool torrent of it suddenly swelled into anger, and the amethyst mare had to fight to keep her voice calm as she turned towards the doorway, her hoofsteps quick and precise. “And where were you, Honeysuckle Marie Plow?” she asked, her voice much cooler than she had intended. Of course, using the full name of any pony immediately denoted that they were in very deep trouble, but at that moment Thistledown felt justified in a little parental intimidation. She rounded the corner of the home and saw her daughter hurry inside the door, her beautiful mane a rats-nest of tangles and windblown waves. Thistle’s eyes widened as her daughter smiled up at her broadly. “And… what in the name of Equestria happened to your mane?” Thistledown asked incredulously. “Oh Momma,” Honeysuckle gushed, “This has been the best day ever!” The filly bounced over and into Thistle, burying her face against the emerald green mane that dangled down past the mare’s chest. Thistledown allowed her a moment for a hug before pushing her back with a hoof, her very best angry mother expression firmly in place. “Honeysuckle, you will explain to me where you have been for the past hour, and you will explain now.” Normally when Thistledown became stern, Honeysuckle shrank; she didn’t like it when her mother sounded angry, whether Thistle truly was or not… but today it didn’t even seem to faze her. First, she reached behind her and removed four very bent and windblown flowers, a rose and three daisies. The flowers looked like they had been through the worst windstorm Whinnyapolis had ever seen even though there was barely a breeze outside. She hefted them and looked so proud that Thistle could do nothing but take them from her and allow the filly to being talking. “Well, first at school Ms. Heart assigned us a report about what we did this summer, and then my friends wanted me to tell them about my cutie mark, but I told them no; but THAT isn’t what makes this the best day ever!” Honeysuckle took a quick breath and Thistle tried to intervene, but there was no stopping Honey now. “What makes it the absolute most bestest day EVER is that I was on my way home and stopped to see Mrs. Vines and she sold me those flowers which are for you because you’re the bestest momma ever, and Mrs. Vines says she can’t wait to see you when you start selling again.” “That’s very nice Honey-,” “But then as I was leaving her stall I saw somepony who I recognized, and I talked to him and then he and I went for ice cream and by the time I noticed what time it was it was reeeeally late and there was no way I was going to get home in less than twenty minutes and he told me he could do it in way less and we probably did but we could have done it a lot faster if he hadn’t done the barrel rolls.” “Honey, what are you-,” “Not that I wanted him to not do the barrel rolls, those were so cool! And you would-,” “HONEYSUCKLE!!” The filly stopped mid-word and blinked innocently. “Yes Momma?” “What, in the name of Princess Celestia and all that is good in this world, are you talking about, filly?!” Thistledown was officially at her wit’s end, and she felt like her emotions were in a blender as relief, irritation, anger and joy all whirled about. “Who were you with?? And where were you!?” Honeysuckle arched an eyebrow at her in the most blatant I thought I just explained this to you expression Thistledown had ever seen, but to her credit the filly took a slow breath. “I was with a friend,” she said simply. “And this friend took me for ice cream and then flew me home.” It felt as if somepony had turned off the blender and simply let her emotions fall where they may. “A friend… flew you home?” Thistle asked tentatively, her voice suddenly not as confident as it had been. Honey doesn’t have any friends big enough to do that… and I don’t know any Pegasi. …unless… Honeysuckle turned towards the door, a huge smile on her face as she gestured for whoever was outside to come in. There must have been some hesitation from the other party, because Honeysuckle frowned and gestured once more, a bit more firmly, before finally making a small growl and pointing at the floor next to her. Thistledown heard a deep sigh from outside, then a few gentle hoofsteps. And then her world exploded around her as he walked into her life again. She felt herself go numb as the gray Pegasus walked into her home, his gaze on the floor; there was simply too much to feel all at once for her to process. The first coherent thought she could make was that he really hadn’t changed much since she’d last seen him; his coat was still smoky gray, his black mane was still the same style and cut, and he looked like he’d been keeping himself in good shape. The second coherent thought was angry; how dare he come to this city, and kidnap her daughter!? She felt the white-hot rage surge to her mouth, ready to be spat like dragonfire at him, to melt him into the background and leave him gone forever. Then he raised his eyes to hers, and she again felt that flutter in her chest, the same pulsing that she had felt that night in the garden, and the third coherent thought burst into her mind: He came back. His eyes seemed to bore into her as he gave her a remorseful smile and nodded to her so deeply it came close to a bow. “I, uh… I’m sorry that Honey’s late getting home from school, Thistledown,” he said carefully. “To tell you the truth, it’s my fault- I didn’t even ask when she needed to be home before taking her for ice cream.” Thistledown stared at him open-mouthed for a moment longer, her mind warring with her heart for the words she wanted to say; then her eyes strayed to her daughter, staring in adoration at the stallion before her, and her mouth snapped shut. “Honeysuckle,” she said calmly, “would you please go to your room?” The filly blinked. “Momma?” “Go to your room, please,” she repeated as calmly as she could, but the undercurrent of icy anger leaked through into the words, and Honeysuckle picked up on it easily. The filly’s big green eyes suddenly lost their shine, and her bottom lip quivered, but she managed to hold herself together as she turned back to the stallion. “I-it was good to see you again, Mr. Wings,” she said quietly; she hesitated for a moment, then leaped forward to hug the other pony firmly. She whispered something to him before dropping back to all four hooves and running from the room as quickly as she could, but it wasn’t quick enough to hide her tears from her mother. Thistle felt her heart break a little, but as she turned back to the gray stallion, she felt the crack fill with anger. “So its Mr. Wings now, is it?” she asked coldly. “Going by your old name again? Or is it a new name altogether?” The stallion shuffled his wings nervously, but he forced his red eyes to meet hers, and again Thistle felt that irritating flutter in her chest. “Wild Wings,” he said softly. “My old name.” “Convenient having many names to go by, isn’t it,” she said, anger simmering in her eyes. “What are you doing here in Whinnyapolis? I thought I made it perfectly clear that you were to stay away from me and my daughter.” Wild Wings shifted on his hooves. “You did, Thistledown; but I realized that I needed to talk to you again.” Thistle exhaled sharply and turned her eyes to the window. “What could we possibly have to talk about, Wild Wings?” she said, her tongue feeling more like a razor than a body part. “You lied to me, lied to everypony, and then tried to kill us all. I’d say that pretty much sums up anything of interest that we could converse about.” She let her anger take hold of her; she let it sweep her away, saying whatever she felt would get him out of her house and out of her life… because deep down she knew that more than anything in the world she had wanted this stallion to show up. She couldn’t even say why she wanted him here; she didn’t know if she wanted him to love her, wanted him to apologize… Well, I definitely want him to apologize, she thought, but even that didn’t make a lot of sense; it wasn’t like they’d had a relationship before his falsehoods had come out, so it wasn’t as if he owed her anything... and yet she felt betrayed, betrayed in the most basic sense of the word, as if he had wronged her so mightily that she felt like she should never forgive him for it. The sharpness of her words seemed to have stunned the Pegasus, but after a moment he regained what little composure he had left. “Thistledown,” he said, the softness in his voice surprising the mare. “You know very well that I didn’t want to do that. I told you- well… I tried to tell you. I told everypony who would listen, hoping that…” He sighed, obviously steeling himself for something; Thistledown found herself becoming angrier and more curious as he took a step towards her. “I told everypony that by that time, the three of us had decided to work against Dark Star… but we had to make it seem like we were still with him, so he would not suspect until it was too late. He couldn’t know, and Twilight, Applejack and the others couldn’t know, or else they would have pulled their punches.” He took another step forward, and Thistle felt her chest begin to ache at the honesty in his eyes. “I wanted to tell you, that day in the barn, Thistledown,” he said quietly. “I wanted to tell you what was going on; that Honey had broken whatever hold the amulet of Anger had on me, that… that you made me want something more. Something beyond the anger and revenge- something that I didn’t realize that I wanted until I met the two of you…” He gave her a shaky smile. “… a family, Thistledown. I wanted… I wanted to be a family, with the two of you. I want… I want to be a father to Honeysuckle… and-,” Thistledown stamped a hoof so hard against the floor that it made the whole room shake, cutting the Pegasus off mid-word. Anger was blazing in her, fueled by confusion, despair and Celestia knew what else mixing around in her heart. “You…” she hissed. “You think you can just walk back in here and be Honeysuckle’s father?” She could feel the heat rising in her face as her anger grew, and she took a step threateningly towards Wild Wings, her ears laid back against her head. “You think that you can just show up here, take her out and about town without my permission and then have the absolute gall to suggest that you want to be her father?!” Wild Wings blinked. “Thistledown, I’m trying to tell you that I-,” “I don’t care WHAT you are trying to tell me, Wild Wings. I want you out of my house and out of our lives- NOW.” “But-,” “NOW!!!” Thistledown’s anger was boiling over like a pot of potatoes left on the stove too long; the mere presence of this Pegasus was throwing her into a spin that she could not pull out of- she knew that she should feel something other than rage towards him, but it seemed that she simply could not. She knew there were ten million things she wanted to say to him, things she had dreamed of saying to him, both good and bad, that would sum up how she felt about this particular situation; deep in her heart she knew she wanted him to finish the sentence he had begun, but her fear had stirred her anger up beyond repair, now- a fear that had settled into her heart after Steady had passed, and one that had only grown larger since she had first met him in Ponyville: She was afraid of what would happen if she let herself be close to anypony ever again. She had allowed herself one night, one amazing night of believing that somepony could fill her heart the way that Steady had, and that she may indeed be able to find love again… but those hopes had been destroyed when Wild’s betrayal had been brought to light. The fact that Wild had worked with Dark Star was of little consequence to Thistledown; what sparked her anger towards him was the fact that he had accepted her invitation, allowed her to place all her hopes on him, and not told her about what he truly was. That meant (in a not-quite-logical way, she admitted) that he didn’t care enough about her or what he said he wanted to be honest with her, which he should have if he truly wanted to be part of her family, consequences aside. The gray Pegasus held his silence for a moment longer, his bright red eyes staring at her in confusion. Thistledown continued to give him the angriest stare she could muster, but the hurt in his eyes was quickly wearing her down. He looks very convincing if he’s lying, a voice said deep in her mind, but she quickly buried it. Finally, Wild shifted his hooves slightly apart, but instead of turning towards the exit, he took a deep breath. “I came a very long way to talk to you, Thistledown,” he said gently… and his tone infuriated the angry mare even more, if that was possible. “I don’t care if Princess Luna flew you in direct from the Moon, Wild Wings- I want you to leave.” “You don’t even want to talk to me? Find out what I want to say?” “Not for all the bits in Equestria.” “But… why not?” A subtle fire ignited in his eyes, and he stood straighter. “I know that I hurt you, Thistledown, and I am truly, deeply sorry for that; but surely you can see that I really had no choice. If Dark Star had found out that we were working against him, he might have just blown the town up instead of fighting the Princesses like he did. Trust me when I tell you that he was just evil enough to do it, then.” Thistledown sighed. Why won’t you just GO, you stupid Pegasus?! “Listen to me-,” “No, Thistledown; you are going to listen to me, now.” His voice was firm, but somehow kind- a voice that snapped her eyes back to his face and brought her raging anger to a simmer. He sighed again, and when he spoke it was in the same gentle, confident tone. “I know that you are upset, and you have a right to be. I also know that no amount of “I’m sorry” can make you feel any better about seeing me again.” He chuckled softly. “In fact, I was fairly sure you were going to hit me with something very hard the moment I walked through your door… but it was a risk I was willing to take to see you again.” Somewhere beneath Thistledown’s anger, another emotion began to bubble up, one that she had not allowed herself to feel in… well, since that night in the garden: hope. “It’s very clear that you aren’t exactly happy to see me-,” Thistledown snorted slightly. “Really, you think?” Wild continued, unperturbed. “-but I hope that when you hear what I have to say, you will change your mind.” He shifted on his hooves. “Well, at least… I mean, you don’t have to change your mind, obviously, but…” The stallion shook his head slightly. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to ramble, I know you want me to leave, but please… hear me out?” The purple mare watched him carefully, her green eyes sweeping him from hoof to mane, trying to discern what it was exactly that he was up to… but the hope bubbling in her chest had somehow forced curiosity up above anger inside her, and she gave him a barely perceptible nod. “You have two minutes.” Wild Wings grinned broadly and took a quick breath. “All right.” He cleared his throat. “Thistledown, I know that things didn’t end… or even begin well for us. I know that we met under strange and unhappy circumstances, and that you have every right to want me to walk out of your life and never look back.” His grin became a sincere smile, and Thistle felt her anger melt further and further away. “But I want you to know… that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I left Whinnyapolis. I thought that I would just… stop feeling what I did, but it didn’t happen. Thoughts of you have invaded my mind at every moment, sleeping and awake, and…” He trailed off, and Thistle leaned forward unconsciously. And…? “…and I want to know if I ever… I mean, if you ever…” He made a small growl in his throat, chewed thoughtfully on his cheeks for a moment, then exhaled slowly. “I want to know if you’d like to give us a chance.” Thistledown felt her knees wobble slightly; it was all she could do to remain standing and not either run for a chair or rush towards him. Every fiber of her being screamed YES!! The hope that had lay dormant in her chest exploded outwards, rushing to the far corners of her mind and heart and filling her with the warmest feeling she had experienced in a very long time… but as quickly as the warmth filled her, a prickly feeling gathered at the base of her throat and rose almost to the back of her mouth, and the cold touch of absolute fear swirled into her, whirling with the hope in a forbidden and dangerous dance. She opened her mouth once to tell him yes and closed it only to open it a moment later to tell him no, then close it again. Her mind became swirled in fog, and she found that she couldn’t think straight; the only thought that she could wrap her mind around right then was that he was asking her to try something that she had dreamed of since meeting him… but now she wasn’t sure if she wanted it. Finally, after several minutes of staring at him, Thistledown sighed. “…I can’t answer that right now,” she said softly. Wild Wings looked simultaneously grateful beyond belief and disappointed beyond reason. “Oh… w-well, that’s fine, I mean, you don’t have to answer right away,” he began, but Thistle held up a hoof. “Please, give me… give me tonight to think about it… and um… come back tomorrow… sometime after noon.” She hesitated. “Make that after 3.” She sighed. “Dinnertime. Come back around dinnertime, and we’ll talk.” The gray Pegasus’ face split into a huge smile, and in spite of herself Thistle felt her heart warm at the sight. “All right Thistledown,” he said. “Tomorrow, dinnertime; you can bet I’ll be here half an hour early.” He stared at her for a very long moment, as if trying to memorize what she looked like close up; Thistledown felt herself blush at the scrutiny, and with a jolt of horror realized that in all the confusion she never had brushed her mane. Finally the Pegasus turned towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said over his shoulder; then he was gone. Thistle heard him begin flapping his wings almost as soon as he was out the door, and she waited until the sound was gone; then she waited another full minute before shutting the front door and turning back to the house. “Honeysuckle!” she called, trotting towards the stairs. “Get packed! We’re leaving!” From her room upstairs, Thistledown heard Honey’s voice, full of confusion. “Pack? But Momma, where are we going? I thought we were going to go cherry-picking this weekend.” Thistle trotted to Honeysuckle’s room and tossed her a smile that she hoped was steadier than she felt. “Well, change of plans, my dear; we’re going to Ponyville to visit Applejack.” She was running, and she knew it. As much as part of her desperately wanted to talk to him again, wanted more than anything to have the chance he had talked about… the fear in her heart was incredible, and right then, in that moment of panic and confusion, the fear took over and offered her a path to take, one that she would not have to wait for, and that was the one she needed… so she would take it.