Chapter 8 – The Best of Both Worlds
Throughout her life, Fleur had questioned a great deal of happenings.
She once questioned the results of a dishonestly predetermined—or to put it simply, fixed—fashion contest held in the Crystal Empire a few years back. There was no way some indigo mare of average looks could have beaten Rarity’s fabulous ensemble, especially not with Fleur in top form carrying it into the spotlight. But it happened, and she had to accept that.
Not so long ago she questioned the revelation which came with the fateful diagnosis. She did not deserve such a punishment, not when she was most open to the perspective of motherhood but also most vulnerable after withdrawing from the world of fashion. She was a good pony and she strayed from any wrongdoings, after all. But it happened, and she learned to live with that.
Most recently, she questioned the idea of a thestral invading her family. It was a preposterous notion that came at the risk of her socially relevant acquaintances ceasing to invite her to their get-togethers at best, and laughing and mocking and abruptly turning their collective hindquarters at her at worst. But it happened, and she was ready for that.
Inquisitive as she was, never before had Fleur questioned the reality itself.
What were the odds that Upper Crust, one of the most distinguished ponies of the Canterlot Elite was the so-called Lady Bucket Head, a villainous figure who chased Chestnut away from Lex Deux Maregots just a couple of days ago? Fleur almost left the incident behind, but now the sensation of Chestnut in peril was back, rousing her quicker than even a bucket of cold water would.
“You!” Upper Crust hissed. “Have you come to ruin my mane again, you little pest?”
Fleur had to move quickly to prevent this already volatile situation from escalating any further. Her guts told her to step in.
Fancy Pants stopped her in her tracks.
“Give her a chance,” he said.
What nonsense! Fleur didn’t need to give Chestnut a chance and she definitely didn’t need her to prove anything! She had already made up her mind and as much as she respected Upper Crust and the rest of the Canterlot Elite, she was not going to let any of them endanger the filly’s well-being.
“She doesn’t have to—”
“I meant Upper.”
Of course he did. While it helped with climbing up the social ladder, taking an exemplary gentlecolt for a husband came at the price of giving others a chance to fix their faux pas. Fleur could abide, but at times like this she would rather fling forgiveness out the window, especially since Upper Crust didn’t look like she was after redeeming herself, but staging a showdown instead.
Like those held at high noon, except that the sun had already set.
At one end of the dusty road outside the saloon—or, the perfectly clean hallway adjacent to the living room—stood Fleur seconded by Fancy Pants. At the other, Jet Set and Upper Crust who fixed her hateful glare on the filly. The rest of the Canterlot Elite did what was best for them and stayed in the room, but while some pretended they were too classy to get involved in whatever the fuss was all about, in truth they were glancing from behind their drinks and carefully moving around so that they could get the best seats in the house. The tension was palpable even if there would be no rolling tumbleweeds or unoiled batwing doors to accompany the silence when the chattering went dead.
The good, the bad, and the batpony remained still for a while, for everyone awaited Chestnut’s response.
“I am also delighted to see you again, madam,” she said, taking a slight bow at the furious mare. She bravely looked her in the eyes. “Might I say, I love what you’ve done with your mane. That hair clip really—”
“I do not care what you’re thinking!” Upper Crust drawled. “You didn’t seem to care much when you ruined it by the Maregots, did you?”
Chestnut endured the sudden outlash and kept her head high. “I deeply regret what happened back there, but as you may remember it was but an unfortunate accident. The window washer dropped the bucket, simple as that.” She smiled warmly and extended her hoof. “How about we leave that whole unpleasantery behind? No hard feelings?”
Without firing it once, Chestnut was making the best of her social revolver. That couldn’t have gone unnoticed by the ponies in the audience who were too engaged in the showdown to even whisper their bets to each other. Yet they were divided. Those who already had a chance to talk to the resolute filly were vastly impressed by her temper, but the rest had known Upper Crust much longer and were thus more inclined to stay on her side.
Despite her heart’s hammering, Fleur calmed down a bit. The recently discovered maternal feelings urged her to intervene, to step in, to take Chestnut as far as possible from the danger she found herself in. At the same time, she wanted to believe that the filly was capable of handling the situation on her own. Even more so, she believed Chestnut would find a way to bring the two worlds together for the sake of their family as much as her own. Besides, it would be pretty low of Upper Crust if she didn’t reciprocate the gesture in front of the Elite, wouldn’t it?
“Keep your dirty hooves away from me!” Upper Crust exploded. “Everypony knows your kind! You are all thieves and muggers, and you are the absolute worst of them all! You tried to steal my jewelry, you belong to a prison cell, and whoever let you in here must have been out of their mind, you batpony!”
Chestnut extended her black wings. She dropped the mask of unflappable manners under which she had been hiding a mingled expression of anger, regret, and broken spirit. All those emotions were soon replaced by something akin to acceptance of one’s sealed fate.
“Heh. At least I tried,” she silently said. She flew up just high enough to stay face to face with Upper Crust. “Listen up, lady! It’s kinda sad that you’re judging me, or my kind like that when you know nothing about us. You and me are different, true, but jumping to conclusions like that? Come on!”
“Don’t you dare speak—”
“I regret that you’re not listening to a word I say!” Chestnut shouted, but her voice was already slipping into trembling. “But I… but I just can’t get through to you! I wasn’t even going to bring that up in front of these cool ponies but you accused me of stealing your necklace when all I wanted to do was to give you that dumb necklace back! Which you dropped! You’d think a ‘thank you’ would be in order but no, you had to set the guardsponies on me! I mean, who does that?”
Her breath was coming in gasps.
“And for your information, those were Fleur and Fancy Pants who let me in here, and you better not speak of them like that because they’re the coolest, kindest, and bestest ponies I have ever met!”
Signing that declaration with heavy tears, she scurried upstairs.
“Chestnut, wait!” Fleur called.
“Leave me alone…”
Hoofsteps. Door slam. Silence.
“Hmph,” Upper Crust snorted, gloating over her triumph. She looked across the hallway. “I’m glad you took my advice and hired a maid, Fleur, but you really should be more careful. Batponies are nothing but trouble, and I can tell you that this particular one is a nasty individual. You should get rid of her as soon as possible.”
Fleur had enough.
Everything she hated in the high society—the snobbish sense of superiority, the eagerness to judge others without learning their story first, the supposed importance of one’s own image and putting it above all else—that and much more now converged in Lady Bucket Head, a mare that was about to get stomped into the floor. As Fleur turned around in frigid silence, her face took a rightfully vengeful look which caused every sane pony to take a step back.
Her personal trial by fire had come.
“Maid? A maid? That’s my DAUGHTER you’re talking about!”
“Y-your d-daughter?” Upper Crust mumbled, seeking answers among the guests who were equally stunned.
“That’s right, you heard me!” Fleur shouted, ignoring the painful protest of her vocal chords. She stomped across the hallway. “Let it be known that Fancy Pants and I have decided to expand our family by adopting that particular filly!”
Fancy Pants had never seen his wife so passionate about anything as she was now about protecting Chestnut. There stood a mare strong not in body but in spirit, armored with unyielding resolve more durable than the hardest steel. She was surrounded by flames of dedication as fiery as a dragon’s breath itself which she would wield to face those who opposed her. She had become the archetype of courage, ready to fight for what her heart told was right.
Well, that wasn’t exactly how she looked, but that’s how he wanted to remember her in this moment of truth.
Only a handful of Canterlot ponies didn’t have to look up to reach Fleur’s eye level. Upper Crust wasn’t of those. The witnesses would later claim she shrunk when Fleur approached and that she got even smaller when she tried to save what was already beyond saving.
“Surely you can’t be serious!” she shouted, words escaping her lips without much sense or order. “Somepony of your status… our status… the Elite… w-we mustn’t get involved with individuals like that! Batponies, they’re n-nothing but trouble!”
Fleur rolled her eyes and thundered, “Of, for Celestia’s and Luna’s combined sakes, they are called THESTRALS, you dumb racist! And Chestnut is, in fact, anything BUT trouble! She’s the most selfless filly I have ever met in my life, and I’m certain that unlike some of us”—she landed her hoof on the other mare’s chest—“she’ll grow into a fine mare who has every right to be counted among the Elite!” She pointed at the guests hiding from her wrath behind the corner. “And if you, or you, or anypony else have a problem with that, then feel free to cross me out from your parties and all. See if I care.”
She turned her back at Upper Crust and stormed off, leaving her and the rest of the ponies dumbstruck.
“Are you alright?” Fancy Pants asked as she stopped by him.
“Never felt better,” she grumbled back. She sighed. “I’m sorry. Please… please solve this for me, Fancy. I have to do something I should have done a long time ago.”
“Namely?”
“Face my social role of a mother.”
* * *
She was shaking so much she had to sit down.
Her heart was still pounding like the metaphorical hammer she had used to forge her near-heroic resolve, but the initial rush of adrenaline was wearing off fast. She could think clearly now. She wasn’t exactly proud of losing her temper and making a scene before Fancy Pants and their acquaintances, but what choice did she have? An excellent hostess or a charming lady would have probably solved the issue in a less controversial way, but as Chestnut’s wingmare she had to stand up for her.
She took a deep breath. Chestnut still needed her and Fleur couldn’t provide any help through the closed door. Exhale. Should she go in right now, or should she wait? What was she going to tell her? Argh! She shouldn’t have postponed the talk with Chestnut until just now. If she was only brave enough yesterday, or even an hour ago, or not so judgmental in the first place!
Another deep breath. Exhale.
Okay, maternal instincts. Now would be a really good time for you to kick in.
Fleur knocked on the door.
“Chestnut? Is everything alright?”
What a stupid question that was. No, everything was not alright. The party which had started off pretty well had just taken an unexpected, disastrous turn. Not that it mattered for Fleur right now, especially since she had Fancy Pants fixing the damage, but still.
“Go away,” a muffled response was heard.
Fleur waited. She wasn’t going anywhere but inside that room.
“May I come in?”
No answer.
“I’m coming in!” she announced herself and pushed the door.
The first thing she noticed about the room was a cardboard box standing in the middle of the fluffy rug. It was the same box Chestnut brought from the Orphanarium, the one labeled NuTsiE’s StuFF on the side. These words had been crossed out. Instead, the box had a much more proper, yet still slightly skewed Nutsie’s Belongings written underneath the original state of ownership, perhaps quite recently. Fleur couldn’t see the contents of the box but judging by the empty shelves Chestnut had already packed most of her things.
“Hey.”
“Hiya.”
“Are you packing?”
“I’ve heard that it’s always better to pack your stuff the night before. This way you have more time to sleep on the day you’re leaving.”
“Leaving?”
Chestnut didn’t dare to look up at the mare even when they both found themselves standing over the box. She folded up the poster of Gemtrance and put it inside. She threw a glance at the desk where the vial of mandarin ink, the pen, and the scarf were neatly placed. With a wince on her face, she closed the box.
“Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have been eavesdropping and I’m sorry for that. It was wrong of me. But being a batpony means I can hear better than others and I… I overheard you guys talking the other night.”
Fleur froze. She and Fancy Pants must have had about eight billion conversations regarding Chestnut and their future. Some of the more recent ones were in favor of the filly but others, regrettably, were just the opposite. Had Chestnut heard any of those? Oh, please, let it be the one they had yesterday! Fleur didn’t want to pay the price for her stupid, immature bias!
“What did you hear?”
“About tonight’s party. You said you wanted to see if I can get along with your friends. Well, I kinda messed that one up, didn’t I?” Chestnut looked at Fleur with her big, wet, yellowy eyes. “I guess I’m going back.”
* * *
The front door remained open, but the gentle breeze that came through wasn’t enough to calm the still heated atmosphere in the hallway. The showdown was not over yet and the ponies of the Canterlot Elite were waiting for Upper Crust to blurt a response. They all secretly wondered if she had already realized how much blowing a small incident out of proportion was going to cost her.
“I want you to know,” the mare began, her voice trembling, “that the moment I encountered this batpony—”
“Thestral!” Garlic Bread boomed.
“Whatever!” Upper Crust shouted back. “It has been by far the most ruining event of my entire life. I’ve had my coiffure turned into an absolute mess, my best dress got covered in dirty, soapy water, I almost lost my favorite necklace, and I came late for the art exhibition I myself helped to set up! That said, I want to repeat what I’ve stated and with full conviction tell you that those batponies, or thestrals, are nothing but trouble!”
She turned to the guests crowded under the archway.
“I talked to many of you about the issue and I know you share my point of view. We have to uphold our image, and fraternizing with other races like that puts a scar on the beauty of the Canterlot Elite as we know it.” She pointed at one of the ponies. “Hyacinth agrees with me. Don’t you, Hyacinth?”
The mare in a giant peacock hat stepped forward eagerly, glad she was granted a chance to steal the show for herself.
Fancy Pants felt his stomach lurching. Hyacinth was one of the ponies who were silently opposing Chestnut, at least according to what Rich Card had confidentially told him. Unlike Hyacinth, the long-suffering husband was a tolerant and relaxed individual, and he was doing his utmost to calm his opinionated wife. No wonder she was against the filly—it was Chestnut and some Royal Guards who had crashed her Punch Taste-whatnot. Despite that, Fancy Pants and Fleur still invited her tonight in hope that her animosity would be trumped by her desire to join the high society.
The funny thing was, there was no applying for membership. You either were in the Canterlot Elite, or you were not.
Hyacinth didn’t know that but she had already proven to be an apt social dodgeball player. Staying around Fancy Pants and Fleur usually allowed her to score most points but Jet Set and Upper Crust were equally influential. Perhaps one Lady Bucket Head couldn’t do a thing, but if she had gathered likeminded ponies around she would break the high society apart. It would be like an avalanche started by throwing a chestnut-sized object at the unsteady pile of ponies and their opinions.
Fancy Pants checked on Jet Set. He seemed embarrassed by his wife’s lack of manners, and he definitely didn’t want to get involved in her grand crusade. Good for him. As the poet William Coltgreve once said, Tartarus hath no fury for a mare such scorned. Yet ‘scorned’ didn’t even begin to describe the state in which Upper Crust found herself.
“I do recall the day Upper Crust is talking about,” Hyacinth proclaimed. “Why, I should remember it quite well as I was hosting one of my Punch Tastextravaganzas back then. You are all cordially invited this Saturday, naturally.” She gave away a couple of smiles and nods in no particular direction. It was a miracle she wasn’t also waving her hoof like a princess from the balcony of the Royal Castle. “It is true that a thestral named Chestnut has been involved in some unfortunate accident concurrently, but it did not threaten the exquisiteness of the event itself, I assure you.”
Upper Crust scowled. “What? Just yesterday you and me were talking about thestrals being the worst thing that could happen to our city and now, all of a sudden, you’re okay with one of them ruining your party? What got into you?” She looked around, looking for support elsewhere. “What about you, Right Write? Blue Moon? Anypony?”
The humdrum editor slowly rolled her eyes. “Oh, you’re clearly exaggerating, my dear. I think it is wonderful that Fleur and Fancy Pants are so keen to adopt such an intriguing little filly.”
“Quite so indeed!” Blue Moon added.
Hyacinth let out her trademark chuckle she usually utilized to bring the attention back to her. “I think we can all agree on what Right Write said.” She turned her back at Upper Crust, inadvertently stroking Octavia’s face with an over-the-top, flamboyant feather protruding from her hat. “Ah, here you are, dear. Have I ever told you how much I appreciate thestral arias? They are truly the lou-deeest!”
Struck by the sudden amount of decibels, Octavia put a hoof to her forehead.
“Yes, Hyacinth,” she said. “They are like that.”
The guests returned to the living room, all in unison with Garlic Bread who proposed that a snack was in order after such an emotional scene. The showdown was over and the ponies who kept track of their social scores summed up the amassed points. Maintaining their savoir faire when the hostess raged over, two hundred points. Being on the right side of the barricade after she did, like Hyacinth was, five hundred points. Not ending like Upper Crust—that is, socially obliterated and left in disgrace—win, win, win.
Fancy Pants would burst out laughing if the situation wasn’t so ridiculously tense. He didn’t expect Hyacinth of all ponies to take their side, not after what happened on the Promenade, but fortunately she was a bona fide turncoat. He never though he’d be grateful for something like that.
He approached Upper Crust so that nopony but her and Jet Set could hear his quiet tone.
“Fleur told me what happened that day. I also recall you arrived late for the exhibition, claiming that you couldn’t find a proper apparel for the occasion. You see, if I had only known the truth earlier we would have been able to avoid this entire charade.”
Upper Crust snorted. “Don’t get all pitiful on me, Fancy. I’ve been playing this game for as long as you and I know I lost this one. But let me drop this pretty convention for a moment. I respect you and Fleur but I do not regret anything I’ve said. I still think that opening our society for foreign influences is a mistake,” she firmly stated. “What comes next, griffons? Diamond Dogs? Changelings? Mark my words, Fancy Pants, for you will be the one rummaging through ashes of what the Canterlot Elite used to stand for.”
“I respect your opinion on this one,” Fancy Pants replied. “However, allow me to drop the convention as well.” He leaned dangerously close to Upper Crust’s face and drawled, “If you ever, through action or inaction, cause any harm come to Chestnut, I will find you and I will remind you what I think about setting the Royal Guard on innocent fillies.”
The mare mustered up one last glare, doing her best to hide the fear in her eyes.
“So be it. I see that I am no longer in demand for your parties even though everything I did was perfectly justified. I’m afraid Jet Set and I have to leave early tonight.” She trotted outside, trying to keep together the remnants of her shattered dignity.
“I wish you both a pleasant evening,” Fancy Pants said. He turned to the stallion. “Are you still up for our game of cricket this weekend, Jet?”
“I certainly am,” Jet Set replied in his phlegmatic tone. “Apologies for Upper. She’ll get over it. We’re sure that you will make a great family.”
“JET SET!”
Fancy Pants sighed compassionately.
In all her haughtiness Upper Crust was right about one thing. The Canterlot Elite had to uphold the image that would then set standards for the ponies living in the capital, and consequently for the rest of Equestria. Cultural changes always flourished, or were nipped in the bud through the so-called elites like theirs, but since they often seemed too radical for some there was no way of introducing them smoothly. Especially if you were the first pair of unicorns to acknowledge them.
Some may follow your example, but others will turn against you.
Fancy Pants recalled Mister Inkblot’s words. He was right once again, that old geezer!
Chuckling to himself, he closed the door and headed upstairs, convinced that his wife had already explained the whole situation to Chestnut.
* * *
Fleur had no idea how to explain the whole situation to Chestnut.
Turning the party into a proving ground for the filly seemed reasonable in the ancient times of last Saturday when Fleur didn’t know what she wanted from life. As the days passed, she realized how dear to her Chestnut had become, and she decided she was going to accept her regardless of tonight’s get-together outcome.
Now she found herself on the verge of losing her.
“It doesn’t have to end like this, you know,” Fleur said. “I was actually hoping it would be just the beginning.”
She seated herself on the bed and invited Chestnut to join in. The filly hesitated. She stared at her box but eventually shuffled across the room and perched at the edge, at a certain distance from the mare. Fleur considered pulling her closer right away, but she doubted she had ever earned enough of the filly’s trust to allow herself such straightforwardness.
“I want you to know that Fancy Pants and I had a great time with you and we’d hate to see you go.”
Chestnut stared at her wide-eyed but then turned her head away.
“But I failed your test.”
“Oh, forget it. We’ve only come up with this idea because we—because I didn’t know what to think about you.” She let out a saddened murmur. “Letting go of my plans, visiting the Orphanarium, seeing you for the first time. It was all very confusing for me, so if anypony failed anything that would be me, not you.”
“What about Lady Bucket Head? You wanted to see if I can fit in. What I did there clearly shows that I can’t!”
Fleur shrugged. “Yet charming Octavia, Garlic Bread, and the rest clearly proves otherwise,” she replied. “Listen, don’t worry about what you said to Lady Bucket Head, or Upper Crust as that’s her real name. You tried to reason with her even though she didn’t want to be reasoned with, so that’s a win in my book. In fact, you handled her better than I did.”
“Really?” Chestnut said, her tufty ears standing on attention. “What did you do?”
The mare rubbed the soreness off her throat. “I shouted, mostly,” she said. “But I told her the truth. That you’re a wonderful filly, that we care about you. I also told her something I should have probably discussed with you beforehand but I couldn’t find the courage to do so.”
She clammed up struggling to find the proper wording. Much like the filly was actively avoiding eye contact, Fleur also found her own hooves immensely fascinating. Their shape, texture, hardiness—oh, where was Fancy Pants and his eloquence when you needed them? Downstairs, dealing with the troublesome guest, that’s where. Fleur was on her own now.
“Tell me, Chestnut,” she finally uttered. “Would you like to stay with us?”
There, she asked the big question. It was all about hearing yes or no in the seconds to come and maybe then her heart would kindly stop its frantic drumming. Yet the only thing Fleur could hear was prolonging silence. She wouldn’t throw a single glance at Chestnut.
She waited.
“I don’t know,” the filly whispered.
“What do you mean? You don’t like it here?”
Chestnut livened up. The reserves of youthful energy which she usually manifested through unbeatable cheer fueled an emotional outburst.
“Are you nuts? Of course I like it!” she exclaimed, turning to the mare. “Let me tell you something. Do you know what we orphans often do? We make up stories about our future families and houses. You know how it works. Every filly likes to think that her mother will be the most beautiful mare in the world. So they mostly dream about being adopted by one of the Princesses and living with them at the Royal Castle.”
“Is that what you dream about as well?”
Chestnut waved her hoof. “Nah, I’m far too old for things like that. Or so I thought, because one day, bam! You came around, beautiful as any princess, and together with your Prince Charming you took me to this castle of a house. This room, this very bed here?” She rolled towards the middle of the bed and mashed the sheets furiously. “It has more pillows than I have hooves! How could anyone not like it?”
Fleur disregarded a wave of warmth which came to her cheeks. She moved around and sat in front of the filly.
“Then what is it? Please, tell me so I could understand!”
“I don’t belong to your world! You guys have your perfect lives and works, you’re meeting important ponies every day, and you’re throwing awesome parties for them! You’re just… you’re just so cool! Even your cutie marks are cool! Fancy Pants has golden crowns, you have your pretty squid-thingies. And me? I’m just a farmpony, and a pretty useless one anywhere outside Tramplevania. I.. I just don’t want to get your fancy lives ruined with who I am.”
Fleur quivered upon hearing that.
The filly didn’t sound like she was against the perspective itself but she was definitely conflicted about it. Fleur had a general idea why and, in all honesty, she could relate—whether you were adopting or being adopted, either of those required you to face many new, sometimes difficult challenges. It was a big turning point in life for both parties by which neither of them could pass indifferently.
Equestria was no Tramplevania. Pegasi weren’t the same as thestrals. Life at the nonetheless decent orphanage was in no way compensating for the loss of family and home. Chestnut must have spent a greater part of her life adjusting to those changes, but letting go of all she knew after spending only a couple of days with some newly met ponies called for even greater courage. At least Fleur could always count on her husband to back her up. Chestnut had no one but herself to turn to.
“Being a farmpony isn’t worse than being anypony else,” Fleur said, but the filly shook her head. “Hey, do you want to know what I think about chestnuts? I think that they are little treasures hidden in plain sight.”
“Yeah. Right.”
“Just think about it! A chestnut falls from a tree, unexpectedly. It’s easy to prick yourself because of its shell so some don’t even bother to pick it up. But those who are patient soon discover that there’s a shiny, beautiful treasure hidden inside. And for me that’s you! You’re the treasure!”
However cheap that sounded, it was the truth. Chestnut came into Fleur’s life rather fortuitously and the mare had been reluctant to ‘pick her up’ in the beginning. In time, she realized that this chestnut was most definitely worth pricking your hoof even if all of her acquaintances were going to have a laugh at her because of that.
“You know, so far you’ve made my life better, not worse or ruined. And to be honest, I don’t care about the opinion of ponies like Upper Crust. I care about you, Chestnut. That’s exactly why we would like to adopt you. But we can’t force you if it’s not something you want as well.”
An uneasy silence fell upon the mare, at least on the outside, because her mind was like a raging battlefield where her past dreams and future prospects had been clashing for the last couple of days. Finally, her prejudice breathed its last when she vanquished it. The seemingly unbreakable rules of the high society fell apart when she rallied her dedication against them. She was victorious, and she was bringing back a new, more mature understanding of motherhood—the solution she needed at last.
She glanced at Chestnut as she stared down, her eyes obscured by the fringe of her forelock. With one of her hooves facing the other she was drawing never-ending circles, likely fighting fierce battles of her own. She appeared calm, but so did Fleur.
The lack of response was agonizing for the mare. More difficult to bear with every passing second. Anything beyond what she had already said that could help her win Chestnut was now sealed between her lips. But she didn’t have to say anything else.
The answer came by itself.
“Remember that talk we had about having a dream in life?” Chestnut asked, looking Fleur directly in the eyes. The mare nodded. “You know, I still don’t know who I want to be in the future. But thanks to the week I spent here I know who I want to be now.”
Chestnut’s voice faltered and her eyes filled with tears despite her best attempts to maintain her composure.
“I want to be your daughter. If you’ll have me, that is.”
“Chestnut!” Fleur pulled the filly closer. “Of course I’ll have you, sweetie!”
Letting out something between a squeak and a gasp of relief, Chestnut fell into Fleur’s secure embrace. There was no way either of them could stop the tears which came along with the warmth of the hug, but neither Fleur nor Chestnut felt it was necessary to withhold them. Those were just what they needed to temper the heated bond which formed between them. The bond between the mother and the daughter which nothing in the entire world could ever break or strain, forged from hope, trust, and most importantly, gladness of not being alone anymore.
The bond of unconditional love.
Chestnut tightened the hug to lift herself closer to Fleur’s ear.
“You’re the best, Mom.”
“And you’re the bestest… Nutsie.”
Hello there! Thank you for reading my story. I am no longer writing pony fiction, but if you want to support my current creative endeavor, check out my content on Twitch! 
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That was wonderful! And just so adorable, as well. Love how Chestnut handled Upper Crust, both polite and impolite, and loved seeing Hyacinth stab Bucket-Head in the back. Encore! Encore!
Anyone else expect her to say "No, but you are..." ?
Awesome and well made chapter, this was amazing to read!
oh man, my feels.
That was beautiful.
Well done on Chestnut's part.
~Skeeter The Lurker
So....much.....HHHNNGGGG......
Now that's what I call a family. Astounding job as always. It was nice seeing not only Fleur stand up for Chestnut, but Fancy as well. Seeing the usually upbeat gentleman turn to threats makes quite the statement.
When I started reading this I wondered just why you would call her Chestnut, now I've finally realized why. Very nice. (for your information, one of the reasons was probably that my mental translator always mixes up chestnuts and hazelnuts...
)
Aaaaand I see than it's still incomplete. Are you going to write more of their future life or is the end neigh .. ehm nigh?
The two characters I felt really stood out in this chapter were Chestnut and Fleur. Yes there is only so much somebody like Chestnut can take before breaking down, especially when it comes to insults like that. But even mortified and hurt, and probably thinking she was going back to the orphanage, still said all she cared about was how Fleur and Fancy Pants felt. And than you think, Chestnut was trying to maintain her cool for them. Even upset, Chestnut still thinks of others.
Fleur really grew in this chapter. She really became Chesnut's mom. Somebody how throws social status out, angrily chews someone out for hurting a child, than forgetting everything else to run upstairs and comfort that child is definitely a mom.
In this chapter everything changed and everypony got what they wanted.
Fleur became like a true mother.
Fancy Pants became a true father.
Chestnut got a dream.
Upper Crust got her two cents in (at a price.)
Now we wait for the epilogue /sequel with Chestnut trying her luck in a fancy Canterlot school.
DA FEELS!
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AGRE- HNNNGG
Ermagerd, THE FEELS!!
I expected Bucket-Head's comeuppance this chapter.
Did not expect the feels to hit so hard this chapter.
Really I cant say how much I like this story
Tears. That is all.
NNrnddrghghgdid...... yep..... that was my heart.
Those who cannot change survive, but do not thrive
Just thought it'd be cute to throw that in
Those who can thrive beyond survival
Also
"Those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind"
Manly tears were shed...
.
^ My emotions
Awesome chapter!
made me cry bro
Gagh! You're killing me Prane! Put away the Feels-Cannon! (aka, don't ever put away the Feels-Cannon.)
Yay, and I guess its not finished? Seems like there is more to come... also ADORABLE!
To Quote Princess Twilight Sparkle, Her Royal Majesty and Lady of Magic. "YES YES YES YES YES YES"
THis was so wonderfully sweet. I really enjoyed reading this story and I look forward to more!
*Searches for something really deep in meaninful to say...*
"Nope, to distracted by how adorable and loving this chapter was."
When the box was filled up, heart figuratively broke.
I LOVE THIS SO MUCH ITS SO ADORABLE AND I WANT MORE!!!!!! PLEASE WHEN YOU FINISH THIS ONE MAKE A SECOND STORY PLEASE!!!!!!!!
This chapter just made my day. I can not wait for the next one. I love this story so much.
P.S. Equestria diffinetely doomed, if high class started to adopt local equal of "nigger".
24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m4n73qm87F1qkhougo1_250.png
Damn it Prane, stop breaking my feelsmeter. Replacing it is starting to get expensive.
All of the sugary goodnesses.
Great cast of characters, great moments, surely these characters deserve a long career.
My blood-pumper!
Please don't end this story anytime soon, I love it.
How sweet~
The enemies to Harmony build their fortress with resentment;
this dram shall not shatter to lies.
Bask or burn to the light of this wonderful peace...
Awaiting further releases.
That was indeed an awesome last scene. I felt a little something in my eye.
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Phew! Good to know that despite the general premise being pretty predictable I managed to surprise you!
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I figured that he could use a pinch of badassery. Since he's obviously too polite to engage in a fight that was as close as I could get.
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HHHNG indeed, but don't blame me! You guys need stronger hearts - inquire below.
Why can't I up vote this again!?!? Gotta love Chestnut, sweet little treasure!
MORE
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A agree with this picture
This is 100% awesome. Love it
Also
I read this in liam neeson's voice and it was perfect
That was a lovely chapter. You really make Fleur seem like a real person with real feelings, real fears and real uncertainties. Yes, and real bigotries too because real people have these hiding away in the back of their heads, ready to pounce when they least expect and want it.
Chestnut is nicely realised too. She isn't perfect and nor is she a parody of a wisecracking street-wise orphan. She's written a real child who has suffered very real injury from the loss of her family. That leaves wounds that never really heal and, combined with how some ponies clearly look down on Thestrals, she's got a lot of issues to deal with.
You don't get 'happily ever after' but you do get 'they worked together for happiness to the end of their days', which, in many ways, is better.
This is a great story! Thanks for sharing it with us!
I JUST HAD A HEART ATTACK FROM HOW SWEET THAT WAS.
...also, am I the only one who started singing this when they saw the chapter title?
Well, my heart just melted and I think I need to go to the hospital.
Great work. I have not enough words to describe how well done is this story
*Hurk* I think that was my heart. So many good feels. Keep it up.
So, we're going to see more of Chestnut right?????
Oh god yes this chapter fills me with so much <333 and cuteness overloaded diabetes. I hope to see where they move on from here now they recognize each other as mother and daughter
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I am now in the process of writing a short epilogue which will bring closure to the adoption arc. Mind that i'm saying 'arc' and not 'story' overall - I feel that there's more to tell about Fleur, Fancy and Chestnut, but I'll be taking a break from this story in order to work on other projects. There's a good chance that I'll return to it, though!
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Thank you! And sorry for not making Chestnut a ninja as you had expected around Chapter 3. If they ever go to Shanghay for a family vacation, however... hint, hint.
Maybe.
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It's much appreciated, thanks!
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It probably wasn't as groundbreaking as the one from the previous chapter, but I did my best.
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I'm glad that you liked it! And I mean that. Given that you seem to be reading an awful lot of stories I imagine it must be pretty hard to surprise you. Also, thanks for your never ending flow of comments from the very beginning!
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I originally intended to employ a joke like this, but then I didn't want to shove too much comedy into a feels-type scene. Though anywhere else it would suit marvelously!
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Oh, I remember that you had a pretty nice vision for that finale (Fancy Pants' heartwarming speech and stuff). Here it turned out in a different manner, but I hope it was satisfying nevertheless.
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I'm happy to hear that you've enjoyed it!
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FEELS AND TEARS. NO ONE CAN STOP THEM!
Thank you all for your kind feedback! I'm glad that I managed to evoke an emotional response from you!