Parents
Parents
Fall Harvest Festival, 8 Years After the Great Warming.
The Hideaway
The Hideaway was a simple estate. Consisting of some eighty acres, it housed some cows and pigs, a flock of chickens, and fields for a multitude of crops. All of this centered around the mansion. Of course, compared to the mansions of the Earth Pony Gentry or the Unicorn Nobility, it was a rather modest affair. It didn't even have a ballroom for spirits' sake! But, the owner and master of the house had no need for balls, let alone ballrooms. Should the necessity arise, the furniture would be moved out of the way in the living room thank you very much.
From the exterior, it was clear to any pony of an architectural persuasion that the design was pure Pegasi brought into existence by Earth Pony and Unicorn materials and artistry, with its noble columns and intricate capitols. The theme was continued with the decorations of the interiors, which is to say, a deficiency in said decorations. It wasn't that the master of the house disliked artwork. It's just that he disliked wasting the money on something if he didn't personally enjoy it. As a result, much of the house was left depressingly barren. Much, but not all. The main hallway for instance, was wallpapered with murals depicting the most important event in recent, no, in all pony history: The Great Warming. Monstrous Windigos laying frozen waste upon dozens of ponies, to dedicated to The Winter War to notice, all of this leading up to a massive, fiery, heart-shaped explosion above the entryway to the dining room. And of course the guest rooms were also adorned with whatever the ponies the master of the house trusted with decorating thought was appropriate. After all, the master had no intention on staying in those rooms, so what would he care if the paint or statues or artwork was horrid?
Not much, truth be told. And at the moment, the master of the house cared less than usual. At the moment, he cared more for the state his evening wear. Or rather, his missing War Helm.
"Dam-NATION!" He bellowed, voice long-trained for audibility in the midst of a mighty, pitched and chaotic battle, and thus understandable not just throughout the house, but a goodly distance out beyond the yard and into the near fields. "Where is that damned bleeding helmet!"
Pacing the Master's Study, the sixty-year old pegasus pony, whose once pitch-black coat had faded somewhat into a dark, smoky, thunderhead grey, and ice-blue mane long faded to silver, clad in metal and leather armor (sans helmet) polished and oiled to a mirror-esque shine, threw open drawers, slammed them shut, looked under furniture with an agility of a stallion a quarter his age, only to hunt the drawers again. And yet his quarry eluded him. Which raised his ire all the more, spawning more delightfully colorful and sophisticated profanity.
"BOLLOCKS!! Bloody bollocks! Where the Earth Filth-riddled Hellfire is that damned bloody bastard-spooged HELMET!?"
"'ere Commandah!"
Spinning around at the sound of the tiny voice, the old pony saw his helmet, polished to a shine, it's black Hawk feathers plumed to perfection, and in the hooves of a young colt, no more than five years old, with a muddy coat and silver mane, and eyes with the same shade of green as the older stallion's. Seeing the young one, the frustrated look on the master of the house's face vanished, replaced with an affectionate grin as he took the piece of headgear from the youth.
"Thank you lad." he said, barely more than a whisper.
Turning from him and to the mirror on the wall, Commander Hurricane addressed him as he secured his helmet.
"Did you do this Collard Green?"
The colt nodded with the eagerness of a child desiring to do a beloved authority figure proud.
"Yuh-huh! Jus' the way you like it!"
Hurricane chuckled to himself, turning his head the way and that to get a good and proper look at the colt's handiwork.
"I can see that laddie. You did a smack-up job." he turned to the colt, "I just might consider making you in charge of maintaining my armor."
The colt's grin, if possible, grew. The old commander returned the smile, giving the lad a noogie as a knock came to the door.
"Commander?"
Turning to the doorway, Hurricane saw a green-on-purple Earth Pony mare, no more than perhaps twenty-five, and dressed as befitting the Head Maid of the staff. Hurricane scored a major coup getting her away from Platinum's staff. The pegasus was just starting up the estate and moved in, only to find he had no idea how the hell one went about managing an agrarian estate such as the Hideaway. Fortunately, miss Fresh Clippings was more than familiar with the requisite comings and goings from years of observation and serving as staff. The coup element being that Hurricane didn't really know that at the time, and had hired her on out of a feeling of obligation (dammit how was he supposed to know that a single mother in the Kingdom of Unicorns faced destitution?! It was simple good fortune that Platinum had the presence of mind to realize the Junta had different views on the matter, and inform the Commander). Hurricane didn't know what he'd do without Fresh Clippings helping him acclimate to the terran-based life-style, and Collard Green was shaping up to be a fine young stallion, much to Hurricane's pride.
If only he could get her to dispense with the titles and just bloody call him Hurricane.
"Yes miss Clippings, what is it?"
"Idle Watch just told me to pass along the news of your daughter and her family are coming up the drive."
"Marvelous!"
Like a shot, the old pony bolted out of the room and down the stairs, making for the front door that was just starting to open. On the other side of that door, stood two ponies: An Earth Pony stallion and a pegasus mare. The stallion sported a creamy-yellow coat and a mane of brown hair, a hoe adorned on his flank.
"Trencher!" Hurricane bellowed with a smile, placing one hoof on his shoulder, the other held out for a shake, "How's the leg?"
The other pony returned the smile, and the shake. "Like it's been stabbed."
As the two stallions laughed, the mare walked in, rolling her eyes in good humor. She sported the same shade of blue mane and tail as her father once had (and her mother, coincidentally enough, had for a coat), though her coat was pink. Her cutie mark was hidden by armor that, even though it was freshly polished and clean, looked as though it had been neglected. The forty-year old mare looked up and down at Hurricane, giving her appraisal.
"I don't believe it. Eight years of peace and that hunk of scrap metal still fits, while I have to suck in just to tighten the belt."
"Oh don't be so glum Pansy," Hurricane replied, throwing his forelimbs around his favorite daughter in a strong embrace, "after all, I'm just the one who stats the process, not the one who bears the child. Eh, speaking of-"
"Grampa!!" Came a third voice, as a white blur plowed into the older stallion, who gave a somewhat pained 'oompf' as he was propelled back into his home.
"Hello Plow Blade," he weezed, though a smile adorned his face.
"Gramp-gramp!" came a smaller voice, though no less joyful, which originated from a pegasus filly with a green coat and a yellow mane who couldn't have been more than five or six years old. Looking down at her winded grandfather, she turned angrily at her brother sitting on his chest. "Plow! You hurt Gramp-Gramp!"
Stepping down from his grandfather's chest, the brown-maned, white coated eight-year old colt looked to his sister.
"Did not! Grampa's the strongest pony in the world!" he declared, finishing with a raspberry.
"Did too!" the filly replied, returning the raspberry.
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
"Enough."
At the steel that once brought soldiers to attention in a moment, Plow Blade and his sister Rake stopped their arguing and stood up straight.
"Yes mama." the foals chorused, eyes down to the floor. To the side, the foals' father and grandfather looked on with matching expressions, one spawned from paternal pride, the other from love.
"That's my baby girl."
"I love being married to a badass. I never have to raise my voice, and I never even have to tell the kids to do something twice 'cause they know Mama'll be on my side."
Ignoring the stallions, Pansy took the foals and hugged them tightly.
"Now I want you to be good for daddy and Miss Clippings all right? Grampa and mommy will be back latet tonight."
"But mama!" Plow Blade pleaded, "I wanna go with you to miss Platinum's party!"
"Yeah mama!" his sister agreed, "Let us come, can we? Please?"
Nuzzling the two, Pansy gave a small chuckle as she released them.
"Sorry kids, but I'm afraid not. 'Sides, this is a grown up party, you wouldn't have any fun at all."
------
Palace of Friendship (formerly the Palace of Prosperity)
"BOLLOCKS!"
The table that Hurricane sat at the head of, loaded with stallions and a few mares from all three races, erupted in laughter as the old stallion mimed moving his forelimb in some sort of container.
"And this continued for a good five or so minutes! With Thunderhead egging me on! Like I said I forget the thing he was trying to show us, that's what it involved. And then the Captain walked in."
The audience ooh'd at that piece of information, the sort of sound they make when the storyteller reaches the part where they know that the subject of the tale is in trouble for being caught in the act.
"So, imagine, if you will, what she saw: Me, with my leg up to my elbow in ice water, yelling 'bollocks' as loud as I can, surrounded by my fellows. Well, I got laid that night so I must have done something right."
As the small crowd howled with laughter, Pansy (who spent the entirety of the tale separated by a number of table places) slapped a hoof against her face as the burgundy, Premier-robe clad, green and purple form of Smart Cookie (who sat beside her during dinner) kept a straight face, sipping her tea.
"Why oh why can't father adhere to proper topics when in public."
Taking a moment to consider the question, Smart Cookie finished her cup as placed it aside to be filled by a servant.
"Well Dumpling, I think it is because he really doesn't care about such things, and wishes for ponies to be care-free around him, and if anypony disapproves they can, well... You know what his sentiments would be."
Indeed Pansy would, including the language used to articulate them.
"And while I can't say I approve of the methods... I must say that after a lifetime of dealing with politicians who care about the opinions of others, even if only to retain to power, such a common and breezy personality is... refreshing. No doubt that is what Platinum and Clover enjoy about his company. It's a coverless simplicity. Total Honesty."
Pansy looked to the older mare ruefully. "Aren't you married Premier?"
Cookie laughed.
"That I am Dumpling! But that doesn't mean I have lost my ability to appraise a fine cut of stallion. In fact, now that I'm off the market, it means my appraisal is worth even more!"
Rolling her eyes, Pansy scoped the room. An old habit, but a useful one even for peaceful purposes. The stone walls still had the plastered facade they always had, giving the room a sterile, white appearance, with the banners still in place, both the number of banners of the Equestrian Republic, and the few remaining banners showing the Insignia of the House of Æthelric, subtly reminding everypony just whose home they were in. Which reminded Pansy of something.
Or rather, someponies who had been absent for the evening.
"Say, have you seen Clover? Or Platinum? I've not seen her since soon after father and me got here, and Clover I haven't seen at all."
The former Secretary of the Interior of the Hyracotherium Republic, now leader of the Equestrian Republic, sighed.
"Yes, well, Platinum told me earlier that some sort of family tragedy befell Clover's relatives, and the news reached her just this evening. I doubt we'll see her tonight." taking amoment to rethink Pansy's question, the earth pony mare looked around.
"Hmmm... As to Platinum... Now that you mention it, yes, I'd say that our host is rather conspicuously absent. Oh well, I'm sure she's around."
And indeed she was 'around.'
Shivft
The White mare with the two-tone mane of blue and green sat in her 'Black Room,' which really wasn't a room at all. In fact, it was, to any unsuspecting pony, her wardrobe. At least, in its concealed position. But if one were to open its doors, and unfold its cabinets, one would find what many beings in the far future would recognize as a small post office, with little cubbies for letters entering or leaving, and small drawers and pockets holding inks and sealing waxes of every color across the spectrum, along with seals that were perfect recreations of those used by every family (and the individuals that made up said families) of the courts of the Kingdom of Unicorns and Unicornia. Even the dead ones. Especially the dead ones. In little notches were held bone-knives of every shape, sheets of paper and envelopes of every size, texture and type, and even a dictation machine that, when (in)appropriately used, could recreate a pony's writing-style perfectly, and in a side-shelf sat a collection of notebooks containing codes and their permutations used by everypony in the court.
This was the very brain of Platinum's not-as-little-as-assumed spy network. She built it from the ground up, starting just before the Lake Trot Crisis twenty-four years earlier. Now it contained a score of agents keeping tabs on hundreds of ponies from the highest lords and ladies of the courts to the lowest servants. Especially the servants, who were often used as, or used by, agents to carry out the little schemes and machinations of the court. Shame for them that none of them were able to avoid the all-seeing eyes of Princess (King, technically) Platinum, and not a single plot was allowed to continue beyond the first opening moves unless it doing so furthered Platinum's own goals. Not a single piece of correspondence moving through Equestria, let alone in or out of the palace, went without Platinum seeing it before its recipient. Decades training in the art of post interception taught her every possible trick to digging out a letter, deciphering its contents, repackaging it and sending it on its way with nopony being able to tell it had been tampered with.
Unfolding the letter she just opened, Platinum adjusted her reading spectacles, angling the paper to view it clearer in the candle light. Seeing nothing encoded in the message itself, she passed the paper over the flames for a few passes. Therein was the story told, as the dried citrus juice was burned, revealing a message for a meeting request to discuss a plot to assassinate a rival in order to make a move for his land. Had said rival been difficult in the past, Platinum would have gladly recreated the message and sent it on its merry way, keeping in mind to confound the land takeover in the aftermath. Platinum spent too many years breaking the back of the nobility, no sense in letting them gain that strength again before her planned demise.
However, Baron Argon, while not an asset, had never been bothersome either, and was easily manipulated enough to warrant him as more useful alive than dead. Fortunately, some arsenic in the sender's drink tomorrow night would fix the issue with no questions asked. The pony was a known glutton and a sudden death after a large meal would not be surprising to anypony.
Noting the name of the sender, the course of action needed, and the reasoning for it, Platinum burned the letter and picked up the next one, though she paused, leaving the letter floating in mid-air.
"Yes Velvet Hooves, what is it?"
From behind a tapestry behind the princess that for all intents and purposes hid nothing but a wall (that wasn't actually there; Platinum would know, she designed the network of passageways herself), a brown unicorn stallion dressed in an unassuming servant's attire entered the Princess' room before bowing.
"You Majesty, more correspondence."
The princess took the small stack of letters from her Spymaster, placing them in the IN cubby.
"Thank you. Is there anything else?"
"Yes. Premier Cookie and Private Pansy have both noticed your absence. Furthermore, Commander Hurricane has finished his ninth glass of wine, and the swearing story. If the current pattern continues, he will deny a tenth, tell the Defecation story, and given Court Mage Clover the Clever's absence for the evening, will go searching for her."
Given the new information, Platinum released the letter she had been holding in her telekinetic grasp until now, steepleing her forehooves in thought. As she did so, the light from the candle reflected off of the glass in her spectacles, obscuring the look in her eyes.
"I see. Tell me Velvet, what are the chances of Hurricane spending the night here in light of recent events? More specifically in Clover's own room."
"Most likely you Majesty."
"Agreed. Everything continues apace then. Considering the subtle changes in their relationship since Hurricane's little... abduction, chances are probable that Clover would not be opposed to the former Commander... comforting her, let's say. I will say that, if Hurricane were to do so, it would be unexpected, but hardly unanticipated. I trust you are familiar with the various contingencies."
"Yes your Majesty."
"Good. I shall see to this last letter, and then I shall return to the main hall. Dismissed."
With a ruffle of cloth the top agent of Platinum's network was gone, not once had the Princess looked in the stallion's direction. Part of this was to maintain professionalism, the other part being due to how she disliked seeing the eager to please glint in his eye. No doubt Velvet Hooves was a fine stallion in form and a pleasant enough fellow in personality, but Platinum could not spare the effort on a romantic pursuit. Even without the potential shift in the delicate balance of power she maintained, her plans for Equestria's society required that the House of Æthelric die with her. And... Even without that political reality...
Well, Platinum's cutie mark wasn't a puppeteer's controller because she liked marionette shows.
------
In the dining hall, one table in particular was quite crowded at one end, and in the middle of this mod of ponies sat Hurricane, gleefully enduring the pleas and begs to 'tell it,' the 'it' in question clearly well known to those present. All the while, Pansy hovered over her father, frantically shaking her head 'no' and waving her forelegs in the same, trying her hardest to have her voice heard above the crowd that had been chanting its request for a good fifteen minutes now. Her father had noticed her moments ago, but only now deigned to 'notice,' placing a hoof to one ear. Allegedly so that he could hear her blatantly obvious request was.
"WHAT WAS THAT PANSY? WHAT? TELL IT? WELL ALL RIGHT!"
Even as the crowd cheered and quieted themselves for story time, Pansy slowly settled into her chair, face flush with mortification, tearing her hooves through her blue mane, dredging up great reserves of will power to meet the eyes of the Princess.
"I am so, so sorry Platinum. I swear he's worse than the foals! I can't take him anywhere without him telling this gross story."
Smart Cookie finished stirring the milk and sugar into her fresh cup of tea, the kettle Platinum so thoughtfully brewed and brought for them still steaming. Taking an experimental sip, the older mare sighed in satisfaction before rubbing Pansy's back, extolling her pearls of wisdom with the air of an eternally wise sage.
"He's old Dumpling. Old ponies are required by Nature's Law, as decreed by the Alicorns themselves, to be as rude, crass and disgusting as they very well wish and please to be. And us, as their children, are destined to endure it. And in their omniscient mercy, They allow us to in turn torment our own children in the same manner when the time comes."
"Here here love," Platinum agreed, gently tapping her hoof on the table, "besides, while the story is foul, I have always found the expressions of the nobles most entertaining."
Pansy was about to retort to that when Smart Cookie intervened.
"At least it isn't Puddinghead, Alicorn's rest her mad soul. That mare would probably try to tell the story of Hearth's Warming. As she remembered it at the time. Now shush, the Tin Pot Tyrant is starting."
At the other end of the table, Hurricane motioned that the audience was to come to order, just as eager to tell the story as they were to hear it.
"Now then, this was... Oh, I'd say somewhere in the neighborhood of some forty-four or so years ago. I was a Lieutenant serving with Lieutenant Lightning Bolt and Corporal Flash as sentries in Dead Diamond Dog Pass, which is the highest pathway through the Manehattan Range, and it's bloody cold and stormy and snows all the damned bloody time. And while you are stationed there you more or less spend most of the night in your little tent, because otherwise you die. And when I say 'tent,' I really mean 'Bollocks piece of shit,'" the audience laughed heartily, forcing Hurricane to pause. He took a moment to sip some water before continuing, "and I say that because it's still bloody cold in there. And what's worse about being stationed at that pass is that the winds and terrain are so awful all the time. So much so that, well, if you aren't close to your fellow officers you will be by the end of your tour because it's just not safe to go anywhere alone, not even to take a shit!"
He paused for effect.
"You can already see where this is going can't you?"
Pansy muttered something under her breath, from the sound of it, chances were good that it was in agreement.
"Well one night all three of us were sleeping, because anyone dumb enough to try that pass in the middle of bleeding winter in the middle of the bleeding night would be dead long before they got to us, when Lightning Bolt woke us up. Now, we were already upset because it was four o'clock in the morning. Otherwise known as Dark O'clock in the morning. Otherwise known as 'The World Does Not Exist Yet, Piss Off.'"
Again the audience laughed some, all familiar with the unpleasantness of being forcibly awoken before the sun was up.
"So we were understandably upset, when Lightning Bolt said 'I have got to take a shit.' And at first Flash and I were more than willing to let him soil himself for waking us up when we all heard a gurgling, bubbling sound, and Lightning Bolt folded over himself and groaned in noticeable pain, like 'ooohaghch', which lasted until the sounds went away. I looked Flash in the eye, and it was clear we both knew what that meant: This was going to be one of those messy ones, with flying bits and fluid and farts all coming at once and if it wasn't pointed somewhere else we were all going to get covered in it. And thus began an adventure the likes of which only happen in Epics: Three stallions, one a ticking time bomb, must brave the elements until they reach their destination, and none of them knows if they'll make it."
As the crowd laughed again, Hurricane began doing small-scale pantomime of being cold, gesturing with his forelimbs the much abridged portion of the less humorous part of the story.
"So we all went out of the tent, ooph it's bloody cold, get him across, watch him or he'll fall off the side of the mountain, it's four o'clock in the morning take a shit, get back, and well after as harrowing an ordeal as taking a shit there is no way that you are going back to sleep so you might as well have a brew."
At that Smart Cookie paused for a moment while moving her cup of tea to her lips. ...But only for a moment.
"So we kick up the fire a little and start brewing the tea, when suddenly Flash starts sniffing, and he turns to me as says 'there is an awful smell of shit.' And I was about to tell him he was being ridiculous when I smelled it too.
"So we're all looking around when I turn to Lightning Bolt and, on his left shoulder, there was a turd. Evidently, when the lad took his shit, a crosswind, blew it up," once again the laughter became so pronounced that Hurricane had to stop for a moment for it all to die down, "and it landed on his shoulder. And then we noticed that it was starting to melt. So we kicked him out of the tent to bury the damned thing in the snow. Fortunately I had the presence of mind to remind him not to bury it right outside the flap of the tent.
"And that was my tour at Dead Diamond Dog Pass." he finished, the punch line bringing laughs and cheers from his audience.
At the abandoned end of the table, Pansy buried her face in her hooves.
"Ugh thank goodness it's over. This is why I never bring the foals."
While the crowd dispersed, Hurricane backed away slowly and silently. After ensuring that nopony noticed where he was, he stepped out through a servant's passage and made for the residence wing of the palace.
Of course, Platinum knows many things, and sees many things, and no detail escapes her eye.
------
As opposed to the dining hall, the residence wing was as silent as a tomb, most of the chambers largely unoccupied due to the usual tenants or residence were down amongst the other guests, or back in their own estates, which was just perfect for Hurricane. After all, he had not seen Clover all night, and he was rather concerned for her and did not wish to be distracted. Furthermore, the unicorns were rather uppity about a stallion entering an unwedded mare's room for some daft reason or another, and while he didn't care, experience taught him that others would and the old pegasus would prefer to avoid the hassle of dealing with the noisy complaints.
Turning the corner and passing through the curtain, Hurricane passed into the corridor for the bedchambers of the Royal Family and their closest and most trusted advisors. Each door was identical, making it difficult for outsiders to know whose room was who. But then... Hurricane was already familiar with this hallway.
Down the hall, fourth door on the right. That was Clover's room, and with a few gentle knocks, the pegasus announced his presence.
"Who is it?"
"Clover, let me in. You've been unsociable all evening and I find it concerning."
Silence was his only answer for several long moments, and Hurricane was about to barge right in when Clover's tiny voice came through the door again.
"...You are right. I... I guess I could use some company right now."
Gently, Hurricane nudged open the door and stepped into the room. By the light of the single candle aglow, it was clear that the chambers looked much the same as it had the last time he was present: Walls covered with star charts and bookshelves, and a slate board covered with calculations and equations Hurricane had no hope, nor any desire, to understand, the bookshelves loaded down with books as thick as his neck and loose scrap sheets of parchment, to the point where, if it held sapience, it would be begging to be put out of its misery. Abacuses with varying numbers of beads and rails were neatly stacked underneath a window, and on the far wall was a small balcony with two telescopes of differing powers, along with varying models of quadrants and a large, table-mounted astrolabe.
However, Hurricane's attention was focused solely on the fair-sized bed, and the comparatively small figure that lay huddled on it, its back to him.
The tiny sounds of sniffles and whimpering shot Hurricane in the heart with more bite than any sword or lance or arrow could ever dream of accomplishing, and with silent hoof-falls the old commander gently trotted up to the brown-on-brown unicorn mare, softly nuzzling her behind one ear.
"Come now my little Sparkler Cloud, what has you all upset?"
The young mare rolled over enough to lift her head to look at Hurricane, her dark eyes distorted by overflowing tears, whites reddened by the exertion of producing said tears, and the inevitable rubbing that comes with it, her nose slightly crusty from the snot dribbling from it.
Heartbroken at the sight, Hurricane unbuckled his cuirass and let the metal armor slide to the floor. That done, donned in naught by the leather and mail under-armor, Hurricane crawled onto the bed, holding the mare's head to his chest, and began gently stroking her mane.
"Oh Clover, please. I want to help, but I can't unless you talk to me."
Taking in a shaky breath, Clover reached into her robe and pulled out a folded sheet of paper, handing it to Hurricane.
"I-it, it is my father, Hurricane. He has died. He has been sick for some time, but then he had a stroke quite suddenly earlier this week."
As she sniffed, Hurricane wrapped his wings around her in a feather-soft embrace, empathy clear on his face.
"Oh darling. I'm sorry to hear that. Clearly the two of you were close."
At that, Clover jerked out of her paramour's embrace, her expression an odd blend of frustration and the sorrow that plagued her lovely features since Hurricane entered her rooms.
"No, it is not that. In truth, I never truly had a fair acquaintance with my father. He was always cold and disinterested in me and my accomplishments, and he never truly spoke to or of me as a fellow thinking being. I was just some thing that came out of mother. And would be useless as anything other than a political tool I suppose. ...I suppose one could claim that he was not in truth a father at all."
"Oh! Well in that case he was a total dick."
"And yet I mourn! I am still sad and angry and hurt at his passing and I do not know why I feel this way Hurricane!"
At the look she gave him when she turned full to his face, Hurricane's heart hurt a little bit more at the obvious pain plaguing one of the few mares in his life he could well and truly claim to love.
"I know he was only thinking about my brothers and I as heirs, spares and political utinsils, and yet my heart breaks at the thought that he is no longer among the living." At the new waves of tears that flowed from her eyes, Clover's face blushed as she buried her face into her coltfriend's chest.
Said coltfriend gently stroked the top of the young twenty-four year old mare.
"Oh precious, bless your tender heart."
"I apologize" she mumbled, her voice muffled by Hurricane's chest, "for the scene I am causing. It would be unfair to ask you to understand, what with how found everypony no doubt was of you all your life."
Her ears twitched at attention at the bark of a laugh the old warpony belted out.
"Trust me love, I understand far more than you know."
Looking up, Clover turned her gaze to the pegasus, confusion clear as day.
"You see, I dare my mother was just like your father. Only she was all too happy with making sure I and everypony else knew about it."
With the confusion clearly growing, Hurricane gave a soft laugh that could be mistaken for a rueful sigh and he started parting his thin, but not balding, mane.
"What I am about to show you, is something not even my daughter knows. In fact, only three ponies ever knew about this event, and two of them are dead."
Hurricane leaned down, hooves parting his mane enough to expose the back of his head, just behind his right ear. With great curiosity, Clover straightened up for a better look at what the stallion wanted to show her.
A scar, about a hoof's breadth long. From what Clover could that tell the wound, when it was fresh, was far from lethal, but was no doubt bloody and quite painful, and was made either by a blunt club with a narrowed edge (if a pony could call a club having an edge), or by a quite dull bladed weapon.
"I was about... six I believe. Making that about fifty-four years ago now. Give or take a few months. Star Saber was much more drunk than usual that day when she came home from the office, and saw me taking a leak. Well, Star Saber was pissed off at that reminder, and next thing I remember I was waking up at a nearby clinic, the medic being the third pony knowing about this incident.
"That's why I control how much I drink, so that I don't ever get drunk."
"Why..." Clover breathed, stunned at the story as Hurricane once again hid the evidence.
"Oh! Well, for one thing I'd rather not find out if I'm an angry drunk, or a sad one, rather than a happy drunk. Plus in a warzone being inebriated tends to-"
"No, no, that is not what I meant. Why did she... Do such a thing?"
"Same reason your father dismissed you as less than worthy of his attention I suppose: I committed the inconceivable and unforgiveable sin of being the wrong sex in my society: For you it was being a filly, and for me being a colt. Especially given that having a filly, in my mother's eyes, was to be her last chance at accomplishing something worth bragging about in her life."
Clover looked down at her hooves for a moment to consider that. Seeing as she wasn't going to get it for a while, Hurricane continued.
" Whereas all her friends were becoming Generals or Majors, or serving out there in the wilds, or having birthed ten daughters, each accomplishing great feats of their own, Star Saber was nothing more than a Staff Sergeant, stuck in Celestine under one superior or another, never having a chance to even so much as stand watch at the perimeter. Not what one calls a stellar career."
Clover thought on that before nodding in comprehension. Many unicorns complained on how the society of the former Junta was ridiculous and impossible to understand. Clover had a hypothesis that it was chiefly due to the same unicorns never bothering to put consideration into just what the thought processes, and the influences on said thought processes, were.
"And so she tried to bear a foal, preferably a filly. After all, while in the Kingdom bearing foals was, and is, considered as a mare's purpose in life so that heirs could be produced for her husband, in the Junta it was seen as a divine process that not only created new soldiers, but future leaders as well."
Hurricane nodded, pleased as ever to see Clover catch on.
"Right. Trouble is, it turns out that Star Saber had fertility issues. Waiting until you hit the big forty tends to do that. Mare spent who knows how much money on gladiators that had even the slightest potency, and when that began to strain on her finances, she looked to the stallions under her. Trouble is, while Captains and higher up can afford to bed any random schmuck under her command, platoons have too few individuals to bed without-"
"Without personal issues beginning to form," Clover finished, "due to everypony knowing everypony else. In larger formations, commanded by higher-ranked ponies, there's enough distance so that there is no risk of authority getting undermined."
"Exactly! And so Star Saber got in serious trouble, and was almost court marshaled before getting by with a warning and a transfer, as well as most likely losing whatever chance of promotion she still had. But she no doubt thought it was all worth it because..."
At the drifting off of the statement, Hurricane gestured to himself, face beaming with arrogant joy.
"Me, the spirits' gift to Mares everywhere. And thus the problem."
Clover nodded in comprehension at that. After all, the Celestine Junta was a strict Matriarchal society, whereas the Kingdom of Unicorns was a Patriarchy. In the latter, having a colt was desired. But in the Junta fillies and mares were the desired sex, and it was not alone. The Hyracotherium Republic was a Matriarchal society as well, socially at least, but ability was much more desired attribute than one's sex, due in large part to the nature of their agrarian society. So colts and stallions were at times seen in high positions of authority, if he so desired and worked for it. But in the Junta, a stallion reaching the rank of Major was a rarity, and one becoming a General was unheard of, unless he performed truly Epic-worthy feats on the battlefield as well as possessed the right personal and political connections. Connections that often could only be achieved by whoring himself out to enough mares to get a chance evening with a mare of sufficiently high rank. Hurricane reaching the rank of Commander was an opportunistic miracle due to Hurricane's natural charisma, his relationship with the Commander-Apparent, and a freak combination of many chance factors.
If Star Saber wanted some glory vicariously from her foal, her best chance would have been if that foal was a filly. A colt would never amount to the lofty goals she fantasized the foal meeting, in her own mind if not in fact. Nothing would be good enough otherwise.
The societies of the Celestine Junta and the Kingdom of Unicorns were an interesting dichotomy, if one desired to look at it from a sociological standpoint. In one, being born with a penis guaranteed you the chance of power, prestige, wealth and glory. In the other, the exact opposite was true, granting only a life as a second-class citizen, whose only chance to advance was to fight in almost suicidal battles and make oneself seen by those higher up in the hierarchy as how a gardener looks at a plant for healthy-looking seeds to plant for next year's crops.
"So you can understand why the second the clock struck midnight on my fourteenth birthday, I stormed out of the house of that old nag and camped outside of the nearest recruitment office.
"To be frank Clover," Hurricane said after a few moments of silence, "I think you are fortunate that your father chose to ignore you. Having that sort of animosity being expressed externally? Ponies have snapped over less offenses."
Hurricane draped a forelimb around Clover's shoulder, a wing blanketing her stomach, pulling her close in a tender embrace.
"Then why do I still I still feel this way?" She pleaded in a whisper-quiet voice, "Why do my innards burn with this regret?"
The old stallion nestled her head under his chin, softly taking in the incense-infused scent of her mane, taking the time to formulate his reply.
"I'd say," he offered at last, "it is because you still wished to have had a more favorable relationship with your father, and now you know you never will. Because you are far more forgiving than I am. But you know what? That's a good thing love. Being in the military means never forgiving a traitor, otherwise you won't see if he, or she, is prepping another knife for your back."
Clover considered the logic of the statement, and she could see the wisdom of what Hurricane was telling her. And truth be told, the fact that her coltfriend liked a part of her nature that ran counter to his thought processes and cultural conditioning... Well, simply put it was flattering.
"Still, running off was the best decision of my life, and I never saw her again except for twice. Both times I was surprised as hell she lived long enough to pull it off."
Clover looked up, trying to see the look on the pegasus' face. Of course, given the positioning that wasn't possible. And that burning need for knowledge rose up again.
"I think I shall regret asking this, but what were those two times?"
"Well, the first time was a couple days after the Crisis. There was a, and I quote, 'loyalist uprising' that pretty much amounted to about thirty of so survivors of Sullamander's perversion of the Academy who decided that, upon her death, the Lesbo-Nutjob became a god or some damn-fooled thing."
"Really? I didn't know that."
"Eh, few do, which was what the point was, as I'll show in a minute. Anyway, what they did was try to storm the armory, assuming that thirty foals with unsharpened weapons could overthrow the government of the Junta, even in the state it was in at the time. Sure Wind Whistler pulled it off, but her forces had the advantage of numbers of two-to-one over her enemy."
"Maybe they thought the citizenry would rise up with them?" Clover offered. Granted the notion was absurd and didn't help their position, but at least it wasn't as absurd as what happened. Hurricane just shrugged in response.
"Except they seemed to have forgotten that a war was just fought, and thus the building would be empty of weapons, and that the armory they chose was right next to a sizable mess hall. Plus, they pulled off the start of their little 'revolution,' their words, not mine, in the middle of the day, thus that mess hall was currently packed to standing room only, serving lunch to the soldiers on duty that day. You can imagine how well that went down."
Clover was desperate not to laugh, so she settled with a wince.
"And wouldn't you know it? At the lead was none other than Star Saber. Which was about her speed considering how much of an incompetent fuckwit she was. Turns out she was Corporal Star Saber now, so she must have done something retarded. Not surprising."
"What did you do?"
Hurricane took in a breath to reflect some on the incident.
"Well, like I said earlier I was surprised to old nag was still alive. And when I saw the insignia showing her rank, I refused to hold in my thoughts on her evident demotion and I laughed her to scorn. Still, they tried to pull off a coup on their legitimate governing superiors, punishable by death."
"Did you not just pull off such a coup?"
"Sullamander's little power grab for Lake Trot would have upset the balance of power in the River Valley, which would have threatened the Junta. Wind Whistler showed me herself the passage concerning how that qualified as treason for the Commander. The second she forced the Staff to invade she stopped being legit.
"Anyway, I still had to choose what to do. In the end, I had the whole lot killed, as per the laws of the Articles. They were clearly too far into the delusions Sullamander fed them to make it worth the effort to correct them, plus the way they defiantly spouted the 'glories of the Eternal Commander' and how my fall was 'inevitabl'e and how my death would be 'harsh beyond imagination upon the Eternal Commander's return' even as the executioner slit their throats to be as funny as hell. Killed 'em all, except for Star Saber, even if she spat in my eye as I considered her sentence."
"Because in spite of everything, she was still your mother and deep in your heart you still loved her?" Clover offered, a hopeful tone in her voice.
"Nnnope! Because it would piss her off! Because it meant that she was so pathetic and worthless that even the pony who she tried to overthrow didn't see her as worth the effort to kill and clean up her blood! Then I made sure that there were as few records as could be practical, and that any records of the incident were vague as legally could be managed, and then put them is as isolated a location in the archives as I could pull off. With any luck, a fire'll burn those records after we're all dead 'n' gone, so that nopony looking back will ever know that Star Saber the incompetent fuckwit had the ovaries to try to pull off a coup!"
Hurricane laughed at that, vicious and yet joyous at the thought that his mother's largest stab at attaining some form of eternal recognition was confounded. "Surely that second incident passed more favorably." she thought.
Shame for her.
"Anyway!" Hurricane announced suddenly, making the mare jump a little, "I wouldn't see her again for sixteen years, right after the Warming. I was walking around to clear my head of what had just happened when I found Star Saber's frozen dead arse in the snow. She had been guarding a crate that said it had... celery in it I think. snort Turns out it was empty! Even in the end, Star Saber couldn't do anything right! Still, she died for a purpose: Bringing me good humor in a time of self-loathing."
Clover let Hurricane have his fun for a few minutes, mostly for him to calm down enough for her to be heard.
"Hurricane, that is vicious and mean spirited."
In response, Hurricane lowered his head so that they could look into each others' eyes.
"Unlike you, who are so kind and willing to give mercy that even those that hurt her the most harshly are spared her wrath."
At the look of pure affection in his loving gaze, Clover couldn't help but blush and look away, smiling when she felt him give her a tender kiss on her cheek.
"Feel better?"
Taking a cleansing sigh, the mare took stock of her emotional turmoil. It was still there, the regret of missed chances was still there, but it didn't feel like it was eating her alive anymore, so there was that.
"Nay. But... Now I feel that I may be. Soon."
Hurricane nuzzled Clover's neck at that, spawning a little smile to her face in spite of herself.
"In that case," he said as he began undoing the ties to her under armor, "it would be the height of unchivalrous behavior to leave a mare in such a state alone. Make room, I'm staying the night.
"Wh-what?!"
But Hurricane ignored the outcry, and with an efficiency spawned only from a lifetime in the military, the mail and leather under armor was piled on the floor in moments, offering the young mare the first real chance to get a proper look at the stallion.
Other than the fading color of his coat and mane, there was very little in the way of signs pointing out the fact that the pegasus pony was sixty years old. The other sign being the host of scars that crisscrossed over his body. In the abstract, Clover was quite aware that Hurricane was a warrior, and thus injuries the likes of which would leave noticeable marks were inevitable. This, however, was the first time she could truly see for herself the obvious toll that would take on a pony's body.
It was only once the former Commander was under the blankets and looked upon her, expecting her to join him, that the court mage remembered the last thing Hurricane said.
'Make room, I'm spending the night.'
It would be laughable to suggest that Clover never thought about such things as relations. She was young, and had recently been through her teen years, and thus the hormones were coursing through her blood like a river at flood stage. And to suggest that she had never fantasized such an evening with Hurricane was... Well, even more ridiculous, especially after her impromptu date with the Commander, and her own interactions with the numerous pegasi that visited the palace now and again, and if they weren't former lovers themselves, they personally knew somepony who was. It was remarkable how shameless and frank the mares of the Junta were, and how... delightfully detailed they could be in the presence of a virgin.
Clover could not deny that she had desired such an encounter, and that with the torrent her emotions had been for the past few days, such a physical distraction would be more than welcome. And, Hurricane clearly knew what he was doing. She gulped, praying that she was ready for this as she shed her robe and crawled in the bed herself, and as Hurricane embraced her in his wings and forelimbs and...
Did nothing.
As in... nothing. Not even nibbling her ear like she had heard he often did with virgins.
"What does this mean? Am I not... desirable?"
"Um... Hurricane?"
"Mmm-hmm."
"Is... Is something... Is something wrong?"
"What do you mean love?"
"It is, well, that is uhhhmmm. It's just that, well you know I and You and night time and this and that and the other thing and-"
The more Clover tried to spit it out, the more flustered and embarrassed she became, her face heating up and her hooves rubbing together nervously, her words running together. And all the while Hurricane was looking on, his expression shifting from confusion, to comprehension, and finally to amusement. Letting Clover fumble for a few moments more, Hurricane finally took pity on the mare, placing a soothing hoof over her mouth to still her ramblings.
"Clover, were you thinking I was going to love on you tonight?"
Blushing so strong the fur on her face grew discolored, it was all she could do to simply nod her head.
Hurricane smiled a charming, tender smile at the young mare, one that both comforted, and... stimulated her in ways she was rather embarrassed to discuss.
And then his gaze turned positively lustful.
"Trust me my dear, I have most certainly thought on that, for a very long time, and would gladly walk you through the Lovers' Grove."
Oh how warm the room suddenly was.
Hurricane's expression then transitioned into that loving gaze it held earlier.
"However, given the situation, I'd say that would be most unwise."
Shifting a little to further close the gap between them, the pegasus nuzzled the mare before continuing, looking her square in the eyes.
"When you and I finally cross that bridge, together, the only stallion I want on your mind, before I blow it away, is me, not your deceased father. And when that wave starts, it will be uncluttered with the baggage of the world outside. I have seen the damage done when a mare in pain seeks solace in relations, and I promised myself to never start that process if I could help it.
"No Clover, you may think that you want relations. But what you need right now, is companionship, and somepony by your side, a rock, in a turbulent storm. Tonight, I will be that rock, and be by your side. Okay?"
Clover, eyes wide, and body... stimulated, nodded, humming an agreement, mouth drawn up in an appreciative smile, before throwing her forelimbs around Hurricane, nuzzling her head under his chin.
------
Hours later, Platinum lay in her bed, deep in her sleep. Or so it seemed. In reality, the Princess was awaiting news from Velvet Hooves concerning Hurricane and Clover. The Commander was last seen by herself leaving the dining hall, a fact corroborated by her agents. Pansy was rather difficult to convince to leave. Predictably she was rather skeptical that her father would deign to leave a party early due to being 'tired,' even at his age. However, and Platinum hated having to show any of her cards to anypony, Pansy was convinced that Hurricane was fine, and that he would be home tomorrow.
Now all there was to do was to wait for confirmation.
"What is the word Velvet Hooves." Platinum ordered, for all the world seeming to speak to nothing but air, when the whisper-soft voice of her spymaster came from... somewhere.
"Commander Hurricane will be spending the night with Court Mage Clover the Clever your majesty. He was seen entering her room two hours ago and has not left. Our agents outside claim that the light in Clover the Clever's room is extinguished."
"I see. I will admit this is sooner than I would wish, but this can still work. Inform the doctor to prepare for the probability of Clover's pregnancy."
There was silence for a few seconds longer than was usual for Velvet Hooves to confirm a direct order. It was most unusual, so much so that Platinum was concerned that things may be coming apart.
"Actually, your majesty... That's the thing. The Commander... Is not bedding Clover the Clever."
Platinum sat ramrod straight, glaring at a certain tapestry. Damn appearances to hell, that was unexpected.
"...I beg your pardon."
"Indeed your majesty, I have confirmed it with my own eyes: Hurricane and Clover had a discussion, and immediately after that they were to bed, but have not engaged in relations. Hurricane was most adamant that they not engage in relations in fact, even when Clover the Clever expressed the desire otherwise."
Platinum blinked. And then blinked again. And once more for good measure. That was... Unusual. Hurricane was not known to abstain from sexual conquests. Certainly he enjoyed the hunt, but when a mare was offering, he always dove right in. And here he was, with a perfect opportunity to have the one mare he had been pursuing for nigh on six years years come summer... and he didn't take it? Curious. Very curious indeed.
Platinum paced the length of her room, re-evaluating the facts and angles and possible ramifications of this instance, Velvet Hooves patiently giving his princess the time and room she needed to think.
Hurricane and Clover's relationship was vital to her own plans to transition the Nobility from being Unicorn centric to being 'of Equestria.' Her claiming Clover as 'like a sister' de facto made her family, and thus considered, in a fashion, in line to the throne. Hurricane was the last sovereign of the Celestine Junta. Politically, the nobility would see their relationship as a political one to bring the remnants of the Junta and the Kingdom into one rule, and forcing whomever was left with doubts about this new nation to accept that the Equestrian Republic was here to stay. Furthermore, their union would give Platinum, the true heir to the throne, an out of any attempt to marry anypony. After all, the line would be secured by the younger sister.
However, Platinum had seen plenty of purely political marriages in her life, and many of them... Well, to say that 'unpleasantness' was common was like saying water was moist. Such unpleasantness was known but unthought-of by the nobility. However, if similar dissatisfaction were to come in the mixed marriage of a unicorn and pegasus, then the problem would be blamed on the nature of the couple, causing the whole enterprise to backfire. No, in order for Clover and Hurricane's marriage to work, it would have to be a happy one. Hmmm.... There was a thought.
Smart Cookie sometimes discussed on how pre-marital relations were more likely to hurt a post-marriage relationship than help, and that it was the anticipation of the act that made that first time more precious, and a mutual respect for the partner's choice to wait was better than being lovers that rushed into it.
With that in mind... Perhaps there was more to the Commander than she was willing to give credit for. After all, does one not wait until the soufflé is done before enjoying? Does one not wait for the gold to cool before cracking open the ring mold?
Does respect not grow... When a knight stays his hoof when his foe is downed?
Yes... Yes, this would do perfectly far better than what she originally planned.
"Fret not Velvet Hooves," Platinum said suddenly, a small, conspiratorial smile on her face, "this is perfect. However, while Hurricane may be able to abstain from sexual conquest, the nobility cannot from spreading rumors to the contrary. The contingencies for the morrow are still on. Who have you arranged for serving Clover her morning tea?"
"Facet your majesty."
"Perfect."
Indeed, Platinum could not choose a better pawn herself. Facet was a young unicorn mare, nervous as a leaf, and feared the throne more than she did the nobility. She was bendable without being able to bow out to whoever was currently ordering her about.
"A dramatic enough 'presentation' should cement her as one of our patsies. See to it that she is awake enough to comprehend what she finds, and that her trip to the briefing chamber is... Impressionable."
"As you command my princess."
------
It was morning in Equestria. Well, almost. The sun was not due up for another hour, casting all of the land in the dim twilight of the pre-dawn. And in the halls of the Palace of Friendship, a young unicorn mare with a blue mane and grey-blue coat, dressed in the uniform of the maid staff walked from the kitchens, carrying a tray of tea and lightly toasted bread for her majesty's much beloved Clover. It was odd really. After all, Facet was usually not one of the ponies scheduled to work the mornings, and when she was she was never put on the awakening detail for the Royal family. But, evidently someponies got sick and a last minute reorganization of the schedules was needed. At least the compensation would be good. Of course, the niggling conspiracy theorist in the back of her mind fretted that something ill was afoot.
Even as she thought on the odd turn of events, she reached the door to her charge's chambers. A turn of the knob with her magic and a gentle shove with her shoulder, and the door swung open revealing the room of Clover the Clever and Commander Hurricane in the same bed and-
Oh... OH! Well, this was awkward, and oh dear the tray was no longer in her magic. Thankfully quick reflexes saved the maid from enduring a very awkward situation. By putting her in a more dangerous one.
Because the magic now surrounding the tray, tea set and plate of bread was not her familiar indigo, but somepony else's lime-green.
Without a moment's extra tick to consider that, a set of reins slipped over her mouth, dragging her into the hall, that lime-green magic quietly easing the door shut. Facet quickly became aware of a dozen or so ponies surrounding her, all of them dressed in all-concealing hooded robes of black.
'A-HA!' the conspiratorially-inclined part of her mind rejoiced, 'I was RIGHT! The Princess DOES have a secret cabal of Death Ponies!'
As she was dragged to the floor as one pony pulled out a blindfold and another pulled out a vaguely chemically-smelling cloth, that same part of her mind realized, much belatedly, just what that meant for her.
'AW SHIT! I was RIGHT! The Princess DOES have a secret cabal of Death Ponies!'
As darkness overcame her, Facet was vaguely aware, through her sleepy, chemical-induced fatigue, of going up and down stairs, though she went down more than up, and the sounds of doors opening and closing confused her sense of place, meaning that she was utterly utterly lost by the time the Death Ponies dumped her on the cold, hard, moist stones of a chamber she was certain did not exist in the floor plans of the palace. She would know, her father was one of the stone masons, and she saw the plans herself.
The blindfold was removed, exposing the chamber. There were no windows, the only light provided by two or three torches and right in from of her was a chair, and in that chair was the Princess of Unicorns herself, Platinum. But this was not the ever smiling and slightly air-headed Princess Facet saw and served every day. Her face was a wooden mask, bearing no sign of warmth or anger or happiness, just an icy-cold calculating glint in her eyes. Assuming one could see her eyes. With the torchlight gleaming off of her spectacles in was difficult to tell, and her hooves steepled in front of her mouth did not help at all either.
No, this was the Princess Platinum the servants whispered to each other about when nopony else seemed to be watching, the one who plotted out the execution of two-thirds of her court for years since she was twelve. The pony who had the power to read minds, and could cause and end a blood feud in her court in the same day for her own amusement. This, was the true Princess Platinum.
'And now she has me all alone in a room that doesn't exist, with a herd of Death Ponies, and nopony will know what horrors became of me!'
Facet tried not to shiver with fear. Honestly, she did. However, she was much more concerned with maintaining her dignity enough that she wouldn't wet herself thank-you-very-much. It was fortunate that she exercised that skill, because when Platinum spoke, Facet listened.
"Miss Facet. I take it you... Saw something. Concerning Clover the Clever's choice in... Company."
Facet shivered and shook in reply. Platinum was about to repeat the question, or nod to the disguised Velvet Hooves to 'encourage' her to reply, when the mare did so herself with an unsteady nod.
"I see. Miss Facet, I am certain you are aware of the... eagerness, that the court likes to discuss certain events, yes?"
Another nod.
"Good. You have eyes, ears and a brain to use them all. Marvelous. Now, as I adore Clover as a sister, I desire to protect her from such animosity as much as can be managed. I am certain you can understand that."
Another nod, but less nervous. Clearly the thought of an unspeakable end was not on the Princess' mind after all.
"Good. Since you are in on the little... secret, concerning Clover and the Commander, you shall now be the confidante. No matter what, come sleet or hail or plague, it shall be you that tends to Clover in the mornings Miss Facet. This is regardless of whether or not the Commander spends the evening with her. I am certain that request is not unreasonable, yes?"
Facet visibly swallowed, speaking in a tiny voice.
"Yes, yes your majesty."
"Lovely. And, to ensure your silence, one of my agents shall keep an eye on you at all times, along with... Concrete compensation."
The comment about the agents was a lie of course. But the young mare bought into the idea of Platinum's network being a world controlling cabal so much that there was no need to actually assign the filly a care taker except for when 'assignments' were required of her. However, the compensation was no lie. Platinum was actually quite miserly with her vast wealth, so that she could afford to splurge as needed. As the sack of gems and coin tossed at Facet's hooves showed.
"I trust we have an understanding Miss Facet."
From the look in her eye, it was clear that Facet convinced herself that she was now the newest recruit into the Cabal. Platinum thought it was ridiculous. However, rewards were given for a reason, and if Miss Facet were to perform admirably...
"I look forward to what you bring to our little society. Miss Facet."
At the gleam in the mare's eyes, it was clear that she relished at the thought of being a part of a major conspiracy, bringing to bear loyalty no amount of coin or gems or threat of pain could hope to forge.
Platinum smiled. It was good to be the King.
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Got a Snuggie for Christmas, and it's brown. When I don't look like a colorblind Sith Lord I feel like a monk transcribing historical documents in a monastery as I type these stories.
In effect, this story was inspired by the Lady Antebellum song Just A Kiss, so I'd recommend listening to that while reading, if you so desired.
Anyway, the big questions:
Yes, Collard Green is Hurricane's. He saw Fresh Clippings serving drinks while attending a little party at Platinum's in 2 AW and, well, you know the story. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge. Yes, she was living at the palace, and in the service of Platinum. Yes, she lived in the Kingdom of Unicorns/Unicorna all her life. No, I don't know the specifics of how that sociological oddity would work, only that it did.
As to Collard Green, eventually he would of course marry, and his line of descent would eventually marry into the Manehattan Branch of the Apple Clan. Can you guess who is now related to Fluttershy via Hurricane?
Now then, in some fantasy world where this was animated, my first choice of voice actor for Hurricane would be BRIAN BLESSED. So much so that two instances in this short story are taken from actual BRIAN moments. First off, the swearing anecdote comes from some sort of Stephen Fry thing I found on YouTube, seen here, and the turd story is an anecdote he told about one of his climbs up Mt Everest on the news/celebrity quiz show (thing) Have I got News For You. I'd be glad to post a link, but I fear that YouTube has taken down the videos. The story is more or less what I typed... Though I'll happily admit to having... embellished certain elements for the sake of a good story and differentiating enough to avoid blatant plagiarism.
Now, you'll notice that one of the soldiers Hurricane was serving with is named Flash. Now, I originally had a different name, but I forgot it as I was typing so I went with whatever came to mind, thus Flash. Now, some of you who know who BRIAN BLESSED is know he was in the 1980s film adaptation of Flash Gordon, spawning a related meme. Well, after I typed that name, I realized the perfect way that managed to mesh. So, now you came all imagine how Hurricane has another story he loves to tell where he gets to shout "FLASH IS ALIVE!"
And yes, Platinum's Black Room is a real thing, from as far back as the court of Louis XIII and likely beyond. I first learned of it when my dad and I visited the International Spy Museum in Washington, DC back in October. COOL!
And now, a news announcement!
This just in: The identity of Failbaddon the Despoiler's horse uncovered
Because one Epic Failure deserves another, right?
Hurricane, you are MAGNIFICENT!
And Platinum. You magnificent mare I READ YOUR BOOK!!!
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I find the people who think that Abstaining is impossible to be quite silly. And Hurricane agrees.
And as I've said before elsewhere: I am certain you read a book, but not THE book.
After all, leaving behind a written record for any random schmuck to find is dangerous in the Court of Unicorns.
1924153
yes indeed, although riding it would be difficult considering he has no arms
Also, for some reason I read this and couldn't stop linking Hurricane to Teddy Roosevelt (or at least, the fictionalized version of him)
1935703
Well, Hurricane never went to Zebrica to hunt wild beasts after Hearth's Warming, nor was he a commissioner of Manehattan, nor strong-armed one country to give independence to another so that his country could build a canal.
But I will admit they do seem to have the same boisterous personality.
Failbadon got a horse?
Steepled hooves (hands) and scary shiny glasses are always a welcome addition to any story I read, heck I've done that myself for my Skype picture!
Oh Platinum, you can plot my doom any day and I'd die with a smile.
Hurricane is great too, and Clover is just soooooo cute. I'd say I wanted to take her home with me but I think The Commander and The "King" would have... problems with that.
Great little addition, even if it doesn't really fit with the whole "Real World Book Entry" idea.
I imagined Hurricane sounding like a Helghan, but I suppose BRIAN BLESSED is to the Helghan what Genghis Khan is to... Humans in general.
1924153
HOW DARE YOU INSULT THE MIGHTY EZEKYLE ABADDON! I SHALL MAKE YOUR ENTRAILS AN OFFERING TO KHORNE AND NURGLE!
risensources.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/05/funny-angry-baby.gif
(Just teasing, of course.)
Upon re-reading the "Parent's" chapter, it strikes me that Hurricane is really not the one to call out fathers for ignoring their children. Though I suppose the cultural expectations different in the Junta, and he didn't really have a choice.
Between this and the rest of the chapter Hurricane wins the best pony award hands down.
Although Cripps and Platinum are both pretty damn awesome to.
You know, even though I didn't catch the references, I thought I heard BRIAN BLESSED coming out of Hurricane's muzzle. But then, that makes Sullamander's outburst to her Chiefs-of-Staff rather ironic.
(Which reminds me, what happened to Sullamander's Second?)
I think I read this like two years ago and I just reread this chapter again. Loved it then, love it now. Shows Platinum as the spider in her Web controlling the fates of her Unicorns and bringing Equestria together behind the scenes.
He's fictional, sixty, and a pony! I SHOULD NOT BE CRUSHING ON HIM!
Also learning that the author imagines Hurricane being voiced by BRIAN BLESSED makes a lot of sense and harder to resist crushing on him!
And I love finding out that Platinum is basically the pony version of the Patrician from the Discworld series! Awesome!