4. Megan Grooms Rarity
A Mighty Demon Slayer Grooms Some Ponies
by D. G. D. Davidson
IV. Megan Grooms Rarity
It was now midmorning. Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy were finished. Fluttershy had gone down to the creek bank, apparently to sulk, and Rainbow had followed after, presumably to console. Two ponies down and four to go: unless Megan figured out a way to quicken the pace, they wouldn’t be ready in time for the show.
And Megan couldn’t help but think that might be a good thing.
Her head hurt, as it had all week. Now her back ached as well, and thanks to a combination of Fluttershy’s stare and sleep deprivation, she was exhausted. Some blurry film obscured her vision, and she had to blink several times to clear it. She swayed back and forth as she trudged to the barn.
When she arrived, she found Rarity standing demurely in the yard with her left hooves crossed over her right. Rarity smiled and said, “Darling, I know you’ve met with several unfortunate delays, and I thought you’d want to get started again right away, so I volunteered to go next.” She fluttered her eyelashes.
Megan took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She swallowed.
“Please don’t think ill of Fluttershy,” said Rarity. “She’s under a lot of stress, as are we all. Oh, and as are you, of course. You have my word that I shan’t give you any trouble. I daresay you’ve had enough.”
Megan didn’t answer. She only swallowed again and wiped her damp forehead.
Rarity paused and gave a small cough. When Megan said nothing, she continued, “And, ah, really, I think you’ll find I keep my hair and hooves in excellent condition. Rainbow Dash is a fine pony if you want speed or any rough work, but in spite of my example—and occasional hints—she still lacks refinement.” Rarity looked around, cleared her throat, and delicately waved a hoof toward the barn. “Admittedly, darling, your setup is a bit, ah, primitive for my tastes—”
“Have you come back to haunt me?” Megan asked in a coarse whisper.
Rarity’s eyebrows rose. She opened her mouth, but made no sound.
Five years prior, almost to the day, Dream Valley saw a watershed moment in its long, tragic, battle-strewn history. Megan remembered it as if it were yesterday.
Hot sunlight streamed from the sky. The Rainbow Bridge, sparkling with mist, curved down into the high waterfall behind Dream Castle. Birds chirruped gaily in the trees, butterflies flitted amongst the wildflowers, and a light wind blew. White clouds floated lazily across the sky. In all respects, it was a normal day in the valley, save for one thing: in the middle of a broad, grassy pasture dotted with honeysuckle, Buttons the unicorn was giving birth.
Megan and Nurse Sweetheart stood aside, watching. They were there to help if needed, but there had so far been no complications. Buttons had lain down in the grass to foal, and now, almost an hour later, she rose slowly to her hooves. Her eyes were glazed, and her breathing was shallow, but she smiled.
“Congratulations, Buttons,” Megan whispered. “You’re a dam.”
Buttons turned around to gaze at her new foal, but her eyes opened wide in shock when she saw two figures quivering in the grass.
Megan laughed quietly. “Yes, you gave birth to twins. A filly and a colt.”
Buttons lowered her head and began licking the birth sac from the newborns. She kept licking dutifully until the babies were nearly dry and their pinkish coats were fluffed. She nudged them, and they wobbled to their feet, standing with their little legs splayed. Each tried to take a step, but both collapsed to the grass. Buttons nudged them again until they got back up. Hesitantly, blinking her round, moist eyes, the filly put her muzzle under Buttons’s thigh, found a teat, and suckled.
Buttons winced for a moment, but then smiled. Rubbing her nose along the filly’s side, she said, “This one is Snookums.” Then she nodded toward the colt, who was trying to crowd his sister aside for a chance to drink. “And that one’s Sniffles.”
“They’re beautiful,” said Megan.
After both foals had sucked, Megan knelt in front of them and, one at a time, wrapped an arm around their shoulders. Many times over, she gently placed her fingers into their ears and noses to get them accustomed to her scent and touch.
Buttons lay back down and smiled weakly. “Tell me it’s not a dream, Megan.”
“It’s not, Buttons.”
“It feels like a dream.”
Megan laughed. “That’s just the endorphins. It’s all real. These really are your babies.” She looked to Nurse Sweetheart. “Should we call the others?”
The nurse clucked. “Megan, dear, Buttons and the babies need to rest—”
“But the ponies need to see.”
The nurse paused a moment, but then dipped her head and nickered softly.
Megan walked to the edge of the pasture where all the little ponies were quietly waiting. Without a word, she nodded to them, turned, and began to walk back. From the soft sound of crunching grass and the occasional beat of wings, she knew they followed.
Together, in silence, they walked to the middle of the pasture where the newborn twins lay nestled beside their dam. Buttons raised her head, looked around at all the other ponies, and broke into a weary but happy grin.
The babies might have needed their rest, but the ponies couldn’t contain themselves: they began to stomp, slowly at first, but then with increasing speed until their hooves sounded like rolling thunder. The newborns, looking around in confusion, snuggled closer to their mother.
The ponies opened their mouths and, as if with one voice, cheered for the first natural-born foals Dream Valley had seen in many years.
To celebrate the new births, the little ponies threw a grand party at Paradise Estate. The mares had donned fine dresses of silk and satin covered in ribbons, bows and sequins, and they now sashayed and swayed on the veranda under the warm midday sun. Lean and wiry, wearing nothing but a pair of swim trunks, Danny played with the sea ponies in the pool. He swam with long, lazy strokes, letting the sunlight thicken the patches of freckles on his back. Cupcake, Scoops, and Lickety Split had set up a large table loaded with cakes, pies, tarts, and all sorts of other desserts. Cupcake and Scoops served while Lickety Split kept her face buried in a bowl of ice cream that was bigger than she was. Meanwhile, Surprise slunk around the party, doing her best to sneak up on other ponies and frighten them out of their wits. Even the flutter ponies had come for the celebration, and their queen, Rosedust, with a kind smile, a quiet nod, and a few small, dignified gestures, paid her respects to Buttons under the arch of the front gate.
Out on the grass, the big brother ponies, with the exception of Slugger, played a rough pick-up game of hoofball. They whooped and cheered, knocked one another to the ground, and quickly rose to their hooves again. Slugger probably would have played too, but he was busy receiving congratulations for becoming a new sire. With a chocolate cigar in his mouth, he stood in the shade of an apple tree; surrounding him was a crowd of the brightly colored and soft-bodied bushwoolies and furbobs. Disinclined to small talk or long conversations, Slugger looked profoundly uncomfortable to be the object of the excitable creatures’ attentions.
With arms crossed and head lowered, Megan stood to one side and listened to the jabber.
“I wish I were a father,” the bushwooly Wishful said.
“Yeah, yeah, father, father,” answered the other bushwoolies, bobbing their heads.
“I wish I were a father too,” said one of the furbobs.
“No you don’t,” said another furbob.
“Do too.”
“Do not.”
Megan chuckled quietly, but, struck with a strange and uncharacteristic melancholy, she felt disinclined to listen to the furbobs’ perpetual arguing. Instead, she walked away and strolled under the trees of the nearby wood, moving into the shade to escape the sun’s glare, which had made her voluminous hair feel heavy and hot. A short distance in, she came upon a grove of birch trees, their white bark punctuated with crisscrossing black scars like the stripes of a zebra. In the afternoon breeze, the trees’ leaves rattled softly with a sound like falling rain. The grove was much cooler than the surrounding wood, lying as it did in a small depression growing with thick, bright green grass: it put Megan in mind of warm summer nights when the air would suddenly turn cold and the soft, steady patter of rain would begin on the roof above her bedroom and lull her to sleep.
In the middle of the grove, she came upon a pink pegasus clad in a bright red dress laden with bows and a broad straw sun hat laden with silk flowers. The pegasus was in the process of pulling petals from a daisy with her lips. With each petal she pulled, she murmured, “He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me . . .”
Megan smiled. “Hello, Heart Throb,” she said.
It had disturbed Megan before to observe Rarity’s mannerisms and listen to her diction. The resemblance to the lovesick mare she had known in Dream Valley was uncanny, but until now, Megan had simply told herself it was a coincidence. Now bruised, worn out, and at her wits’ end, she found it unnerving. She stared for a full minute until Rarity cleared her throat and said, “Darling, are you sure you’re quite all right?”
“I did what I had to,” Megan whispered.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?”
Megan shook her head, snapping out of her reverie. “I’m sorry . . . uh, yes, about the barn and everything—it might not be a salon, Rarity, but I think you’ll find I can get the job done.”
Looking nervous, Rarity grinned with clenched teeth. “I’m sure you can. I was so impressed by what you did with Rainbow Dash’s mane, and even coaxing her into a hooficure! Well! I didn’t think anypony could do that. Honestly, I used to wince every time I glanced at her poor hooves. Perhaps she’ll like it enough to make regular trimming a habit—”
“Tell her it’s for her health. Can we get started here?” She grabbed her curry brush and approached, but Rarity backed up a few feet.
“That brush—it’s clean, isn’t it?”
“Clean enough.” Megan stepped forward again, and again Rarity backed up.
“How clean is enough? You’ll notice, please, that my coat is white. I would hate to smudge it with anything that came out of Rainbow Dash’s coat—er, not that I would accuse her of being really dirty or anything of that sort, but—”
“Are we going to do this?”
“Do what, darling?”
Megan closed her eyes and sighed. She checked her watch. “I can’t believe this. Tell you what, you mentioned before that you’d never seen show sheen, right?”
Rarity’s face lightened. “Oh my, no, I hadn’t. Goodness, you made Rainbow so shiny she almost looked like a crystal pony when the sun was on her just right. I must say, since we’ll probably want to talk about trade relations or something, I think there could be a sizable market for that kind of product—”
“Okay, sure. I got some other stuff you might like. How about whitening shampoo? Would that satisfy you that I’ve kept you clean enough?”
Rarity raised her eyebrows. “Whitening—?”
“It’s supposed to make a white coat even whiter. I could scrub you up with that, and then with the show sheen—”
“Oh yes, please!” Rarity cried. “Why, Celestia herself would envy my coat!”
Megan put the brush down. “Okay, but I’ll have to use the garden hose. I hope you don’t mind.”
Rarity recoiled, but, swallowing hard, put on a nervous grin and said, “I suppose it will be worth it.”
When Megan came upon Heart Throb in the woods, Heart Throb leapt to her feet with a start. “Megan! Oh, darling, I didn’t see you there! You really mustn’t sneak up on a lady like that. It simply isn’t polite—”
Sitting down on the grass at Heart Throb's side, Megan asked, “Why aren’t you at the party? I thought you loved things like this.”
Heart Throb sighed. “While I usually do take delight in a soirée, I find that today I am simply not in the mood.”
“You should still congratulate Buttons.”
Heart Throb bit off the flower she’d been picking at. After swallowing it, she said, “I’m sure I will, dear. Just not now.”
“What’s the matter?”
Heart Throb released another sigh, this one loud and prolonged. She threw herself back on the ground. “Oh, Megan! Is it wrong? Is it really wrong to want a stallion so badly?”
Megan laughed and rubbed Heart Throb behind the ears. “No, of course not. Why would you think that?”
“But is it wrong to want a stallion all to yourself?”
Megan paused and drew her hand away.
Heart Throb lowered her head to her front hooves. “After we closed up the gateway to the Land of Legends, you left all your storybooks here. I read a lot of them, Megan—tales of King Arthur’s knights, of Charlemagne’s paladins, and of Robin Hood and Maid Marion. Oh, and Cinderella! Sleeping Beauty! All the tales of the Grimms! Oh!”
Megan lay down and put her hands behind her head. “I’ve always loved stories like that, ever since I was small. My dad used to read to me all the time from Alice in Wonderland or Gulliver’s Travels.” She frowned. “My dad . . .”
Uncharacteristically heedless of her fine dress, Heart Throb rolled onto her back and gazed up at the gently waving leaves. “Do you remember Prince Charming? How he strode through that golden gateway—oh, so handsome! Such broad shoulders! And such refined manners!”
Megan nodded. “I remember him. I thought he was silly.”
“I thought he was wonderful.”
“But he’s a character from a story, Heart Throb. He has to stay in the Land of Legends with the others or their world will fall apart and our books will turn blank. Besides that, he’s a man.”
Heart Throb laughed quietly. “That didn’t bother me at all, Megan. Why, I found his upright poise quite dashing. There are lots of these men where you come from, aren’t there?”
Megan edged away. “Yes, but . . .”
“Perhaps I should come back over the rainbow with you sometime. If you’re surrounded by fellows like that Charming, you’re a very lucky girl.”
Megan’s face turned warm. She sat up. “There are no Prince Charmings where I come from, Heart Throb.”
“None?”
“No,” she said firmly. “They’re fictional.”
Heart Throb rolled back over onto her side. She flicked a hoof into the air as if dismissing the subject. “Ah, well. Sometimes, I find myself wondering if love itself is fictional.”
“Of course it’s not. And you, of all ponies—”
A tired smile formed on Heart Throb’s lips. “I have lived my life believing in love. Yet there’s no true love for me, is there?”
“There are the big brother ponies. Why haven’t you joined one of their herds? Most of the other mares have. Tux n’ Tails seems like your type—”
Heart Throb pushed herself up onto her haunches and leaned toward Megan, stopping with her muzzle only an inch from the girl’s face. “Darling, I simply shan’t have a stallion unless he’s all mine, and that’s the only thing to it. I don’t know why that’s so important to me, but it is. Dreadfully important. It’s in all your books, too: every princess finds her prince, and she never has to share him.”
Heart Throb leapt up and twirled, her skirt spinning around her hind legs and her hooves crunching softly in the fallen leaves. “Oh, Megan, do you know what I’d love? A wedding! Like I read about in your stories! I’d wear a beautiful white gown covered with ribbons, and I’d have a long train and a lovely veil! Girls would throw flowers as I stepped in, and everyone would gaze at me as I walked up the aisle. Waiting for me at the altar, of course, would be the most kind, witty, wonderful, refined, gallant, tall, dark, handsome hunk imaginable! Oh, what a day that would be! I would simply die from happiness!” She sank to the ground again and rested her head on Megan’s knee.
Megan bent down and kissed Heart Throb’s nose. “It does sound lovely.”
“You human girls are so lucky. You’ll be married like that someday, won’t you, Megan?”
Megan shook her head. “I really don’t know, Heart Throb. That’s many years off. I’m only thirteen.”
“All the girls in the Grimms’ stories marry at fourteen.”
“Yes, well . . . that’s different.”
Heart Throb closed her eyes, rocked her head back and forth, and hummed to herself for a moment, ending in a soft giggle. “Confetti has a beautiful white dress. She wears it on special occasions. ‘Just for special,’ she says. It looks so much like the wedding gowns in your books . . . can I tell you something?”
“Yes.”
“A secret?”
“You know I won’t tell.”
“Sometimes I sneak into the wardroom, put her dress on, and pretend I’m getting married, just the way a human girl would.”
Smiling faintly, Megan ran her fingers through Heart Throb’s mane.
“I wish I were human,” Heart Throb whispered. “Then nobody would expect me to join”—she wrinkled her nose—“a herd.”
Megan felt a lump in her throat, but she swallowed it down. “It doesn’t always work out so well for humans, you know.”
Heart Throb looked up at her.
“In the stories, the princess gets the prince,” Megan said, “but in real life, she finds out her prince isn’t quite so loyal as she thinks he is. Trust me. I know what I’m talking about.”
“Megan, what are you—?”
“At least the big brother ponies are up front about it. They aren’t trying to trick you.”
A deep frown on her muzzle, Heart Throb rose to her hooves. “Darling, I’ve never heard you talk this way before. You’re always telling us to love, to hope, to make friends—”
“Do,” Megan said. “Do all of that. But never trust a man.” She rolled over and got to her feet. “I’m gonna head back to the party. I haven’t had cake yet.”
Rarity stood straight, apparently trying to look as dignified as she could while Megan scrubbed shampoo into her coat. Rarity’s eyes were half-closed, and she wore a pleasant smile. “Honestly, darling, although the ambience is not exactly first-rate, the bath itself is quite marvelous. If you ever grow tired of being the warrior protectress of your civilization, I’m sure you could easily get a job working at a spa.”
Megan paused. “I’m a rancher.”
“In your off hours?”
“In all my hours.”
“Oh, really? Well, you should speak with Applejack. The two of you could talk about, um, farmy and ranchy things.”
“I’m sure we will.”
“Your water’s cold,” Rarity said with a shiver, “but it is invigorating. Sometimes I like to take a cold bath before a soirée—one part ice water and one part almond milk. Gives a wonderful glow to the complexion. I suppose we have a similar sort of occasion at hoof, don’t we? And since you don’t have the proper facilities, I’ll allow that this is indeed a reasonable substitute.”
Megan finished rubbing the lather into Rarity’s coat and checked her watch. “We’ll give that a few seconds, and then I’ll rinse it out—”
“Now, Magog, dear, we do need to talk about what I am to wear for this event. I’ve packed several—”
“I take it you’re not exactly a jumper, so I’ll put you in the pleasure class with Fluttershy. She’ll wear Molly’s English saddle and you’ll wear mine. That means one of you has to carry me, and I know I’m a little tall for you, but I think we can make it work.”
Rarity paused. “Oh. Well, saddles can look nice, I suppose, at least if decorated sufficiently, and if the colors are flattering. But I packed six dresses for this trip, and I’m sure you’ll agree that one of them must—”
“No. We don’t put dresses on ponies here. If you want to be in a horse show, you’ll wear horse tack.”
Rarity paused again. Her mouth fell slowly open as if her jaw had stopped working. Megan crossed her arms and watched for a moment.
At once, Rarity’s eyes widened and she grinned. “Why, it’s a whole new world of fashion! I’ll introduce you to my beautiful pony gowns, and I’m sure—”
“I’ve seen ponies in gowns, Rarity. My point is, if you want to compete in a horse show, you need to dress appropriately. It’s a horse show, not a fashion show. You understand that, don’t you?”
Rarity frowned. “I . . . well, I suppose . . .”
“Good. Now let’s—”
“What about my mane and tail?”
Megan’s shoulders slumped. “I’ll braid them, of course. Don’t worry. Now—”
“Just a moment,” Rarity said, raising a hoof. “I realize braiding could only improve Rainbow Dash’s mane, and Fluttershy—well, she really has wonderful hair, but I think Moloch did it justice. My hair, however, as you can see—”
“Needs braided, yes. Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing. I think a diamond braid on the mane and maybe a pinwheel on the tail would—”
Rarity winced. “Oh, darling, pinwheels haven’t been in fashion for ages.”
Megan rubbed her forehead. “Look, the English classes require braids. The western riding class doesn’t, but—”
“Well, that’s simple, then,” Rarity said. “I shall have to enter the, ah, the western class.”
“Really? Can you lope over a log without breaking gait? Do you know what a flying lead change is?”
“Um—”
“We’re talking about what is basically an advanced form of dressage. Rainbow Dash is doing dressage, but she’s memorized the pattern ahead of time so she doesn’t really have to respond to signals, and I didn’t tell her, but I’m putting her in the beginners’ class. And she’s an athlete in any case. Are you prepared to memorize a western riding pattern this morning and perform it this afternoon?”
“Um—”
“There’s no western pleasure class at this show, unfortunately. I strongly recommend that you enter the English pleasure class, unless you want your first appearance on Earth to be an absolute embarrassment.”
“But I—”
“And you would have to wear western tack, which I suspect would offend your tastes.”
“I don’t know about that. I certainly like to think I’m open to exotic styles, and—”
Megan marched into the barn, pulled her western saddle off the wall, hauled it outside, and threw it down over a fence rail.
“Oh!” Rarity cried, staggering backwards. “Take it away! Take it away! It’s garish! It’s monstrous!”
“All the classes are very specific about tack,” said Megan. “If you entered a western class, you’d have to wear this.”
Rarity put a foreleg to her forehead and wobbled as if she were about to faint.
“Braided mane,” Megan said, “or the saddle. Take your pick.”
With a sigh of resignation, Rarity dropped her leg, ducked her head, and murmured, “You win, Magog.”
“I always do.”
“I shall allow you to braid my carefully groomed, beautiful, fabulous mane.” Rarity’s voice grew quieter and rose in pitch with each word until it became an almost inaudible squeak. Tears formed in her eyes.
Megan clasped her hands together and slowly stretched her arms over her head. “Well, you still decided to give me trouble, but you really have been easier to work with than . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“Magog?” Rarity said. “Darling, are you all right?”
“The shampoo!” Megan cried. She snatched up the hose, which was still running, and sprayed Rarity with it.
“Ack!”
“Hold still!” Megan shouted. She stuck her thumb over the coupling to increase the force and ran the hose back and forth over Rarity’s coat, digging her free hand into the hair to pull out the soap.
“Oh, no,” Megan muttered. “Oh, no. Oh, no.”
“Darling,” Rarity said, “you’re starting to worry me.”
“Just shut up, Rarity.”
Megan worked for several minutes, spraying Rarity down, drenching her, kneading and brushing her coat, until she’d created a sizable pool of water in the yard in front of the barn. When she could get no more soap out, she took up a large towel and buffed Rarity’s fur.
Then, with shoulders slumped, Megan walked to the spigot, crouched before it, and, as if the act took all her remaining energy, slowly turned the water off.
“Magog,” Rarity said, “what exactly happened?”
Still crouching in front of the spigot, Megan rubbed her eyes, which had turned blurry again.
“Tell me,” Rarity said.
“It’s not that bad, really,” said Megan.
“Tell me!” Rarity shouted. “Tell me, tell me! Get me a mirror!”
It took a lot of willpower for Megan to find the courage to stand and turn around. First the voice and mannerisms, and now this—
Megan sighed, stood, walked to the table, picked up the hand mirror, and held it up.
Rarity reared and released an ear-piercing shriek. In a moment, Twilight Sparkle and Applejack came running from the backside of the barn.
“Rarity,” Twilight said, “what’s—?” She skidded to a halt with her mouth hanging open.
Applejack started chuckling.
“Oh, I’m hideous!” Rarity cried. “I’m a monster! I can never be seen in public again! It’s awful! It’s terrible!”
“It’s pink,” said Twilight.
Megan left Heart Throb, but she didn’t make it back to Buttons’s party. When she reached the edge of the woods, she found a blue pegasus pony waiting for her.
“Megan,” said the pegasus, “although I hesitate to interrupt your celebratory excursions, there is a subject of paramount import requiring our interlocution.”
“Come for a walk with me, Wind Whistler,” Megan answered.
The two strolled along the forest’s edge and stopped by the deeply cut bank of a stream. The clear water babbled and murmured as it rolled over the smooth stones lining its bed. Megan picked up a rock and skipped it.
“According to my meticulous calculations,” said Wind Whistler, “the little ponies are not reproducing at replacement rate. And at present, Baby Sniffles and Baby Lucky are our only colts.”
Megan took up another stone and rubbed her thumb across it, removing a patch of moss. “I could have told you that.”
“When Queen Majesty ruled in Dream Castle, she had a magical mirror, and that mirror gave us the baby ponies, who will preserve our race for another generation. Majesty’s wishing tree produced the baby sea ponies, and Majesty conjured Baby Lucky out of thin air. She often produced ponies on a whim like that, but now that she’s gone—”
“You’re going extinct,” said Megan. She threw the rock. It struck the stream at the wrong angle and sank.
“There remains,” said Wind Whistler, “the improbability that we may as yet discover another mystical artifact with similar metaphysical properties as the mirror or the tree, able to produce new ponies through magic. I do not, however, believe it wise to rely on such a supposition.”
“Any chance you can get the mirror working again?”
“I have studied it closely, but it has not functioned since the demise of Her Majesty. That is to say, I find myself entirely unable to operate it or discover the modus of its functionality.”
“Have you asked the princess ponies for help?”
Wind Whistler paused and raised an eyebrow. “That is indeed a logical course of action. I shall dispatch Whizzer to contact them tomorrow.”
“What about Spike? He used to work for Majesty, didn’t he?”
Wind Whistler shook her head. “When Tirek murdered Majesty and kidnapped Spike, he, by some means we have been unable to reverse, adversely affected the dragon’s memories. Spike has no recollection of our former monarch, nor of her magical artifacts. It is most regretful, for Majesty made Baby Lucky to be Spike’s playmate, yet Spike does not remember their time together—”
Megan sat down on a large, gnarled root overstretching the bank. “I’ve known about this for a while, Wind Whistler. Majesty’s not here anymore to create new little ponies. What you really need isn’t a baby-producing mirror. You need the big brothers to settle down and stay. You need to have more children of your own.”
“We do consider the baby ponies to be our children, Megan. Nonetheless, you are correct. But it was only with utmost exertion that we persuaded the big brothers to postpone their further peripatetic activities for the eleven months until Buttons foaled. I do not know if they will be receptive to further argumentation on this point.”
Megan glanced into Wind Whistler’s unreadable eyes. “You want me to talk to Slugger, don’t you?”
Wind Whistler nodded. “That was, ultimately, the objective of my entreating you to join me in this conversation.”
Tears streaming from her face, Rarity again lifted a leg to her head and swooned, but this time Applejack ran in and caught her, allowing Rarity to fall across her back. “Pink!” Rarity wailed. “Oh, it’s horrid!”
“It’s not really pink, Rarity,” said Applejack. “It’s more like a kind o’ purple.”
“Purple!” Rarity cried. “Even worse!”
“You know,” said Twilight, “I don’t think purple is such a bad—”
“It’s more of a light fuchsia, really,” said Megan.
Now draped over Applejack, Rarity swung her legs in a full-on tantrum. “I look positively dreadful! I can’t go to the show like this! I simply can’t.”
Megan rubbed her chin. “Now that I think about it, I’m not sure anyone would even notice—”
“Notice?” Rarity cried. “You think nopony will notice how garish—?”
“Well, considering that you’re already a—”
“Oh, I shall be a laughingstock!”
“But you’re a—”
“My reputation! My career! My ambassadorship! My coat! This is the worst day of my entire life!” Rarity drooped, limp and lifeless, her head hanging a few inches from the ground.
“Rarity,” said Applejack with her eyes narrowed in an expression of longsuffering, “wouldja mind gettin’ off my back now?”
Twilight leaned toward Megan and whispered out of the side of her mouth, “Give her a few minutes and she’ll probably get over it.”
“I figured,” Megan whispered back.
“But what exactly happened?”
Megan sighed. From the table, she picked up the bottle of whitening shampoo and squeezed out a drop. “This is supposed to make a coat whiter, but as you can see, it’s bright pinkish purple. Leave it in too long—”
“And it stains,” Twilight said.
“Exactly. I got distracted. We started arguing, and . . .” Megan threw up her hands. “You’d think magic ponies would be easier to work with than regular horses, but no, every one of you has to argue with me.”
“When it’s my turn,” said Twilight, “I promise you can do whatever you need to, and I won’t complain.”
“You wanna go next?”
“Not really.”
Applejack bent her legs, apparently preparing to buck Rarity off. Obviously sensing this, Rarity pretended to revive from her affected faint and slid from Applejack’s back, returning to her own hooves. She took a deep breath and asked, “How long, Magog, will the stain last?”
“I don’t really know. But remember, you’re only appearing before humans today. I don’t think any of them will know that the magic unicorn is supposed to be white instead of pinkish purple.”
“I don’t really see anything wrong with a purple magic unicorn,” said Twilight.
“But it doesn’t match my horn or hooves,” Rarity complained. “And it just doesn’t go with my hair!”
“Let me black your hooves,” said Megan. “I know you’re not a fan of black hoof polish, but it will look better with your coat than the white you have on now. As for the horn, well”—she shrugged—“I think a white horn with a pinkish coat is rather striking. Don’t you, Your Highness?”
Twilight frowned, so Megan elbowed her in the shoulder.
“Oh, yes!” said Twilight. “Yes! Quite, er, fetching, really.”
Megan glared at Applejack.
Applejack looked back and forth between Megan and Twilight and said, “Looks mighty fine to me.”
Twilight spread her feet, opened her wings, and arched her neck. Her horn glowed. “I could try to make her coat white again with magic, though this spell has some risks. There’s a small chance her hair will fall out—”
Megan swiftly swatted Twilight’s horn and stopped the spell. “Let’s keep today’s disasters to a minimum, please. Just step aside, Princess: I’m about to braid.” She cracked her knuckles and moved in.
“If you leave, Slugger,” Megan said, “I will never forgive you.”
The baseball glove and bat symbol on his hip glistened in the sun as Slugger, with his mouth clenched on the lever of the water pump, bobbed his head up and down, spraying water into Megan’s cupped hands. She took a small drink and then raised her arms and let the rest of the water trickle into her hair. It had been a long, hot day.
Slugger let go of the lever and rubbed a hoof against his jaw. “Everything went okay, didn’t it?”
“Just fine. Buttons isn’t the first horse I’ve helped give birth.”
“The babies look healthy.”
“They are.”
“Then it’s time to go.”
Megan stood and wiped her hands with a towel. “Why, Slugger? Why can’t you stay? Why do you big brothers have to wander around like this?”
He ducked his head. “Salty, Score, Tex, Steamer, and the others. They want to. There’s a lot of the world—”
“The world?” Megan leaned on the pump. “Your world is right here in Dream Valley. You love Buttons, don’t you?”
Slugger mumbled into his neckerchief, “I was real happy when she agreed to join my herd. I love all my mares, but—”
“But what? Can’t you see this isn’t working? Can’t you see that it isn’t enough for you to swing through here in late spring and then head out again on your . . . whatever it is you do? I don’t know why, Slugger, but the little ponies just aren’t having foals. Surely you’ve noticed. This isn’t good enough.”
Still unable to meet her eyes, Slugger shrugged. “I didn’t do anything different with Buttons than—”
Megan raised a hand and stopped him. “I know that.” She felt her face warming, and that irritated her. “Look, maybe if you stayed around for at least the whole season—”
Slugger furrowed his brow and rolled his eyes up, apparently calculating in his head. “That’s, like, four months!”
“About. Maybe five.”
“But—”
Megan felt herself blushing strongly, which irritated her further. Her neck itched under her long hair, so she rubbed it. She could talk about breeding stock back home without any difficulty. It was just part of work on the farm. Here, it was different. “Look. I honestly don’t know why, but the little ponies aren’t very fertile. If you covered them every time they went through their cycle instead of just once a year, they’d have a greater chance of getting pregnant.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. That had been hard to say.
Slugger pawed the ground. He still wouldn’t meet her eyes.
“Besides that,” Megan said, bending down until her head was level with his, “it would be nice, now that you’re a father, if you acted like one.”
At last, he looked up at her. In his face, she saw genuine confusion. He slowly shook his head back and forth. “Acted? Like a father? What do you mean, Megan? How exactly is a father supposed to act?”
Inside Megan’s chest, something clenched into a knot and then snapped. Some feeling, sharp and painful, rushed out into her limbs. Her head buzzed. The ponies or other creatures of Dream Valley, sometimes even enemies, had often asked her questions. Before now, she had always had an answer: she had taught them friendship, love, and peace.
But to this question, she had nothing to say.
She righted herself. Tears sprang into her eyes. She slapped her leg and her voice cracked as she said, “Never mind, Slugger. You’re acting like a father right now, you selfish son of a bitch!”
She turned away from him and ran.
Megan could tell that Rarity was doing her best to behave and to be accommodating, but she still found the pony difficult to work with. The staining of her coat was too much of a coincidence; true, Rarity was a unicorn rather than a pegasus, and the shampoo had left her coat a color not quite the same shade as Heart Throb’s bright pink, but the resemblance was still uncanny. As Megan brushed Rarity’s coat down, she could feel her own heart hammering. Several times, she had to stop and wipe her face. Her eyes stung with sweat.
To take her mind off it, she tried to lose herself in the task. She rinsed the hairspray out of Rarity’s mane and started a diamond braid. Using hair bands, she divided the mane up into separate plaits, divided the plaits in half, and banded each half to the one across from it. Then she repeated the process. She did this in three large sections until she had three triangles, each made up of diamonds formed by crisscrossing segments of hair. She finished off the tip of each triangle by braiding the hair together in the regular fashion and securing it with another band.
“Your hair has a lot of body to it,” Megan said, “but around here we usually expect a mane to lie against your neck. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I’ll make do,” said Rarity with a sigh. “Though, really, I will have to do something about you humans’ ideas of style.”
“Feel free. You can revolutionize human fashion and horse grooming at the same time.”
“Oh, don’t try to cheer me up about it, Magog, please.”
After making a French braid with Rarity’s forelock, Megan started on the tail, first brushing it out to straighten the hair and remove the large curlicue in which Rarity usually kept it. “You’ve got a completely new style for today. Think of it that way.”
Rarity leapt forward, yanking her tail out of Megan’s hands.
“Hey,” Megan said, “what the—?”
“Idea!” cried Rarity in a singsong.
“What—?”
“Oh, Magog, darling, it’s brilliant!” Rarity spun around and bounced back and forth on her hooves. “Why, we can start on it right away. There’s some chance I can have it done by this afternoon, even. Oh, goodness, yes. This will be wonderful—”
“What are you on about?”
Rarity giggled. “Why, your horses here can’t talk, as I believe you’ve explained—”
“Yes?”
“And it’s customary for you to ride about on their backs—”
“We’ve been over this. Why—?”
“Yet you dress them in this tacky . . . is that what you called it? Yes, you dress them tacky; you demonstrated that to me earlier. Very tacky. And you style their hair. Why, we could style humans’ hair to match that of their horses, and we could design, um, tacky for you to look just like the tacky—”
Megan pressed her palms against her forehead. “Rarity, stop. Clothing and tack: it’s all regulated, and we don’t have time—”
“Oh, darling, please. Even if we don’t have time to make you a brand new ensemble, I could style your hair to resemble mine. And I’m sure we could make a cute miniature saddle for you to wear on your—”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I am not wearing a saddle.”
Rarity fluttered her eyelashes. “At least let me braid your hair.”
Megan narrowed her eyes. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Why not, darling?”
Megan looked back and forth across the yard as if searching for the best avenue of escape. “Because. Because . . . I don’t know, but you cannot braid my hair.”
“Oh, but Magog, dear, you really do have a fabulous yellow mane, though it looks a tad unkempt. Not unlike Applejack, really, who’s even worse than Rainbow Dash when it comes to personal upkeep, though she will at least agree to join me at the spa from time to time. I’m always telling her that with a little proper grooming, she could—”
“Rarity, shut up!”
Rarity immediately closed her mouth, looking mortified.
Rubbing her temples, Megan said, “We are not here about my hair. We are here about your hair. Will you please, please just let me finish braiding your mane so I can get out of the private hell you ponies have been putting me through for the last week? Dammit, I hate this.” She walked to the barn, punched the wall, and winced.
Rarity raised a hoof to her mouth. “Oh, my.”
“Yes.” Megan nodded. “You understand, yes. Thank you. Now, just hold still and close your mouth, and then—”
“Oh, my. You are clearly so stressed. Why didn’t I see it before?”
“Yes, I’m stressed. So—”
“Oh, darling, there is only one help for that. Stay right there.”
Rarity turned and galloped toward the airship.
“Wait—!” Megan yelled.
It was too late. Within minutes, Rarity had levitated a large chest from the airship’s cabin, plunked it in the middle of the yard, and thrown it open. A collapsible dressing table and mirror, complete with a stool and a neatly arranged hair-styling kit, popped out of it and unfolded by means of hundreds of tiny, spring-loaded hinges. Rarity pulled off Megan’s Stetson and pushed her down onto the stool.
“Now, darling,” Rarity said with her front hooves resting on Megan’s shoulders, “I want you to relax.” She peered into the mirror over Megan’s shoulder and turned her head back and forth to see what Megan had done to her mane. “Oh, my. That is interesting. Not something I would have chosen for myself, mind you, but interesting all the same. I’m sure I can give you a matching coiffure. Hold still.” Rarity took up a brush and combed out Megan’s waist-length hair.
Megan thought about objecting, but, having been standing or riding all morning, the chance to sit down was too welcome, and the feel of the brush’s gentle pull was too relaxing. She slumped on the stool and submitted.
“I’ll admit,” Megan mumbled as Rarity, with a combined use of her hooves, mouth, and levitation magic, expertly plaited her hair, “I’ve not been looking forward to working with you.”
Rarity paused to put down the brush, which she had been holding in her teeth. “But why, Magog?”
Megan knitted her fingers together in her lap. “Do you know anything about your family?”
“Yes, of course—”
“I mean way back. To Dream Valley.”
Rarity laughed. “Oh, darling, nopony knows about that. Canterlot’s stud books don’t stretch back that far.”
Megan started. “Canterlot’s what—?”
“Stud books. The genealogies. Canterlot keeps a record of—”
“Why do you call them that?”
“Well, I honestly don’t know. It’s just a traditional name. Does it matter?”
Megan lowered her head and rubbed her eyes. “Coincidence. It’s got to be a coincidence—”
“Magog, you really are acting strange. Oh, dear, we’ve been so caught up in the excitement and anticipation that we’ve just not noticed how you were feeling! Please tell me what the matter is.”
“Will you hate me?”
“Of course not.”
Megan swallowed. “I tried to tell Princess Sparkle that I’m not your legendary hero, but it’s like she wouldn’t listen.”
“Oh, please don’t mind her. She's new at being a princess, and she’s as excited and nervous as the rest of us. Why, I knew her back when she was just a student: always very bright and very talented at magic, but never a socialite. Being ambassadors is a new thing for all of us, and as you can imagine, we’re not terribly good at it yet.”
Megan closed her eyes and allowed her upper body to rock back and forth gently under the tugging of Rarity’s ministrations. The comb through her hair and the pony’s gentle touch really were soothing. “Back in Dream Valley, I knew a pony a lot like Rainbow Dash, and Rainbow told me that pony might be her ancestress.”
“I suppose she might be right. Who knows?”
“I knew a pony a lot like you, too.”
“Really, now? Why, that’s simply marvelous. Though, honestly, I would like to believe good fashion sense is something anypony could learn, and not the sort of thing that runs in the blood. Still, I suppose I and this pony you knew could be related. Tell me about her.”
Megan’s mouth was dry. She licked her lips and said, “I did something to her I’m not proud of.”
Rarity paused. “Magog, dear, it was a long time ago. Oh, it wasn’t so long for you, was it? I suppose old wounds are still fresh. Please know that we all think very highly of you, but we know you’re not perfect, darling. Whatever you might have done, we’ve already forgiven you. Goodness, whatever it is, we’ve forgotten it.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t tell you, then.”
“You don’t have to, but if you need somepony to listen, I will.”
Megan looked down at her hands and rubbed the calluses at the bases of her fingers. After a minute, she said, “Okay, I’ll tell you. It went like this.”
Leaving Slugger behind, Megan wiped tears from her eyes and marched into the midst of the party at Paradise Estate. Sensing that something was wrong, the ponies paused in their activities. The music hit a sour note and died, and the big brothers halted in the middle of their game.
Megan’s stomach clenched when she saw that Heart Throb had returned to the party. In the midst of dancing with her friends and showing off her dress, Heart Throb paused and looked expectant.
“Listen up,” Megan called. “We’re having a meeting. Gather round.”
Their faces lined with worry, the little ponies crowded close, standing or sitting on the grass. The flutter ponies hovered in the back, their gossamer wings flapping silently. Danny, along with the sea ponies, swam to the edge of the pool and leaned on the lip.
Megan cleared her throat and stared at the ground for a minute.
“Megan?” Galaxy whispered, her jeweled eyes glinting in the sunlight. “Is something wrong?”
Megan looked up. “You’re dying,” she said.
The ponies gasped. A wave of murmurs and whispers washed across the crowd.
“You don’t realize it, but you are.” Megan paced back and forth. “In the past, you relied on Queen Majesty to ensure that the valley was populated. She used magic to give you the ponies you call your babies. Well, Majesty is dead. Tirek killed her.”
She paused, clenching and unclenching her fists. “And I killed Tirek.”
She ripped the locket from her neck and opened it. With a blinding flash, the Rainbow of Light leapt out and into the sky. The ponies fell to the ground, gasping. Twisting and dancing in the air, the Rainbow shot through several tufts of clouds, striking them out of existence. Then it settled into a slow circling, like a shark swimming around its prey.
Megan shouted, “Your queen is dead, ponies! Do you think life is still nothing but parties and games? Do you think you can spend all your time frolicking in meadows and chasing butterflies? It doesn’t work like that!”
She waved an arm toward the steep, forbidding mountains visible on the western horizon. “I’ve seen your world! It’s a wasteland full of monsters, witches, and selfish kings. The Jewel Desert stretches for miles upon miles, Grundleland lies buried under the Smooze, Bumbleland lies buried under perpetual snow, and volcanoes fill the Eastern Limb. Dream Valley is the one bright spot in all of Ponyland, but someday you ponies will grow old and die, and there will be no goodness left. Your magic will die with you, just as Majesty’s died with her.”
“Megan,” cried Truly, “just what are you sayin’? Ain’tcha gonna be happy on Buttons’s big day?”
“Heavy hooves!” said Applejack. “It’s just not nice, going on like this!”
“This is about Buttons,” Megan answered. “This is about all of you. If the ponies are going to continue, you need to have more children. And if you and your children are going to survive, it’s time to get organized.” Her hands trembled. “I won’t always be here for you, you know. I can’t replace Majesty. I have my own world.”
For a full minute, all was silent.
Finally, Megan took a deep breath and added, “You should divide up according to your abilities.” She pointed to a knot of unicorn ponies. “It’s not good enough for the unicorns to know just one or two spells each. They need to study magic, like a discipline.”
“You mean school?” Baby Sweet Tooth cried.
“Yes,” Megan said. “Like school. We’ll go to the Moochick tomorrow and ask if he’ll teach you.”
She pointed at a crowd of the pegasi. “And since the pegasus ponies can fly, and since they’re strong, they need to learn to fight. It will be their job to protect everyone else.” She spared a contemptuous glance toward the big brother ponies, who huddled together in a group, and added, “Since it’s obvious the stallions won’t do it.”
Megan looked to the back of the crowd where Rosedust, her mouth hanging open in shock, hovered with the rest of the flutter ponies. “The pegasi can train with the flutter ponies, if Queen Rosedust agrees.”
Rosedust cleared her throat. “We are, of course, always happy to assist the little ponies in their endeavors . . .” Her voice faded, and she looked around uncertainly.
Megan continued, “The earth ponies can take up the remaining work. We need to plant fields and store grain. We can’t always expect the meadows to have enough grass and flowers to eat.”
“Majesty’s storehouse!” Cupcake said. “It’s still full of all sorts of good things!”
“But it won’t last forever,” answered Megan, “like everything else Majesty made. In time, there won’t be any more flour and sugar unless you learn to make more, or trade for it.”
Cupcake gasped.
Megan swept her eyes over the ponies again. “Each of these groups needs a leader. No fighting, no bickering—we’ll have nominations and then vote. We need a new queen for the earthlings, a queen for the unicorns, and a queen for the pegasus ponies.”
Throughout Megan’s speech, Wind Whistler had stood to one side, gazing at Megan with an intense but unreadable expression. “Perhaps the unicorns and earth ponies can have queens,” she said quietly, “but, given the nature of the task you have assigned the pegasus ponies, I think calling our leader ‘commander’ might be apposite.”
Magic Star, standing in the midst of the crowd, reared and said, “We earth ponies can’t take the same title Majesty had. We’ll have a commander too.”
“Perhaps a ‘chancellor’ would be right for the earth ponies,” said Wind Whistler.
“Whatever you want to call it,” Megan answered. “I don’t care.”
She turned her eyes again to the big brothers. “And as for you,” she said, marching toward them, “things are definitely going to change. No more wandering around, leaving your mares behind to fend for themselves. Where were you when Tirek killed Majesty and turned ponies into monsters? Where were you when Grogar abducted the unicorns? Where were you when Porcina turned Dream Valley to glass?”
Overhead, the Rainbow of Light cracked like a whip. The big brothers cowered. With their mouths hanging open, they glanced at each other and silently lowered their heads.
“I’ll tell you where you were,” said Megan. “You were off gallivanting around the world, playing with your stupid boats and trains and trucks.”
“But y’all know we saved ’em from that witch Somnambula,” Tex mumbled.
“And then you wanted to leave them again,” Megan snapped. “No more. You’re staying right here. You’ve got your own job to do.” She huffed for a moment, staring them down, trying to control her rising rage. “They need children. That’s your job. Your only job. I suspect it’s all you’re good for.”
They looked up at her with faces pleading, eyes open in shock. She could tell from their expressions that they knew what she was doing to them: they had formerly been Dream Valley’s boss stallions, but if the little ponies took Megan’s advice, the big brothers would be nothing more than studs.
Megan turned away from them and, with her eyes to the ground, added, “Every mare who isn’t attached to a herd needs to be. That is all.” She raised the locket into the air. Twisting like a miniature tornado, the Rainbow of Light shot down into it, and she snapped it closed.
Aside from the chirping of some distant birds and the steady rush of the waterfall, Dream Valley was silent. The ponies stared at Megan with wide eyes and gaping mouths—all except Wind Whistler, who still wore that curious, indecipherable expression.
With a sharp cry, Heart Throb pushed her way through the crowd, knocking other ponies aside until she stood before Megan. She shook her head in three sharp jerks and, with tears running down her cheeks, gasped, “Megan, please—”
Megan tried to look in her eyes, but found she couldn’t. “I’m sorry, Heart Throb, but I don’t think I can make exceptions.”
The sound of tearing fabric echoed across the fields as Heart Throb ripped away her dress. She opened her wings, leapt into the air, and, still crying, flew to the west.
Megan sighed and snapped the locket back around her neck. “Whizzer, let’s go after her.”
Whizzer took a step forward as if to comply, but then pawed the ground for a moment and at last turned away.
Megan looked around at the rest of the pegasi. “Any of you—?”
Acting as one, the pegasus ponies slowly stepped back away from Megan—all except Wind Whistler, who looked up and, with a small smile, said, “You may ride me, Megan. It would be, as always, an honor.”
“Well,” said Rarity quietly, “one doesn’t learn that in history class, does one?”
“I don’t know,” Megan answered. “Does one?”
“One does not.”
Rarity had finished turning Megan’s long hair into a diamond braid to match her own. Megan thought it looked silly, but decided to keep her mouth shut. After all, she was doing similar things to the ponies’ hair, and she couldn’t think of a reason why they shouldn’t be allowed some turnabout. She expected that everybody would be too distracted to look closely at her anyway when she arrived at the horse show with six brightly colored magic ponies in tow.
Megan finished the braid on Rarity’s tail and then knelt in front her and, with a piece of sandpaper, scraped the white polish from Rarity’s hooves in preparation to apply black.
“This polish doesn’t come off easily,” Megan said.
“It’s an ancient recipe made from glitter sand,” Rarity replied. “Very glossy and very long-lasting.”
Megan continued sanding in silence for several minutes, remaining on her knees and keeping her head down.
“That poor dear,” Rarity murmured.
Megan’s hands shook.
“They do teach us that, according to tradition, Magog the Mighty organized the three tribes. They don’t give many details, though. It’s easy to imagine you sitting on a throne, perhaps with a gorgeous silk robe and a golden tiara, holding a scepter and making pronouncements. The way you tell it, why, you just walked in and announced it off the top of your head, no ceremonies or anything.”
“That’s how it happened,” Megan answered. “We had a lot of parties in Dream Valley, but not a lot of ceremonies.” She took the jar of hoof black and began to paint Rarity’s hooves, but then paused and looked up into the pony’s eyes. “Rarity, what I made Heart Throb do—was it really so bad?”
Rarity looked away and clenched her teeth. “I can certainly sympathize with a girl looking for her true love. And I think I can understand why you did what you did. A little bit, maybe.”
Megan looked down and continued to paint.
Rarity said quietly, “Really, though, dear, we’ve tended to think of you as a stern, forbidding warrior, always fighting. Magog at a party with cake and balloons isn’t the sort of thing I ever would have pictured, not in a million years.”
Megan looked up again. “I’ve been trying to tell you since you got here that I’m not who you think I am.”
“No, dear, you’re not. You’re someone much more”—Rarity waved a hoof, apparently looking for the right word—“gentle. You made hard decisions, and you didn’t always make the right ones, but you tried.”
“But what about my bad decisions?”
“Well, as I said, Magog . . .” Rarity smiled. “I mean Megan. As I already said, I, at least, forgive you.”
Megan knew that Heart Throb was long gone, but, nonetheless, hearing those words in Heart Throb’s voice set her heart at peace. She closed her eyes and wiped a tear from her cheek.
After adding one last stroke of black to a hoof, Megan closed the jar, rose from her knees, and stepped back. “We’re done here,” she said, “and you really are beautiful, Rarity.”
Into the barren, nameless, jagged mountains of the west, Wind Whistler flew with Megan on her back. The sun tilted down toward the horizon, and the world became a mixture of long, gray shadows and streaks of orange light. Rays of sun, marked by dancing dust, stretched like fingers between the mountains’ peaks. Wind Whistler wasn’t the fastest flyer, especially while carrying a rider, and they soon lost track of Heart Throb, but it didn’t matter: Megan knew where she was going.
“What you did today took courage,” Wind Whistler said.
“Did it?” Megan asked. “Courage or stupidity? Or rudeness?”
“We’ve been in a state of slow dissolution since Majesty died, Megan. We need organization and we need children. This is an emergency we have ignored for too long.”
“What about you, Wind Whistler? You’re not attached to a herd, either. Are you willing—?”
“I am unattached due to lack of interest rather than emotional sentiment, Megan. In my case, the new order of things means only a minor inconvenience and an equally minor indignity. I shall adjust.”
Megan was silent for some time as she pondered those words. New order of things . . .
When she spotted a familiar ledge in the mountains below, Megan leaned down and told Wind Whistler to land. After the pegasus alighted, Megan dismounted, told her to wait, and picked her way across the jumbled boulders of a scree slope for almost half a mile until she came upon the golden door. Built into the rugged mountainside and carved with ornate relief sculptures of fantastic beasts, the door stood over a hundred feet high. Near its base was a simple knob, from which hung a small placard that said merely, “Keep out.” Heart Throb sat on the threshold with her head bent low as she weakly and steadily pounded a hoof against the door and sobbed.
“Let me in!” she cried. “Let me in! Prince Charming, aren’t you there? Can’t you hear me? It’s your Heart Throb! Please! Please let me in!”
Megan stood back for a minute and gazed up at the bare, needle-like mountain peak and at the door leading into it. This was the portal to the Land of Legends: inside lived the characters from all the stories Megan had ever read. To maintain the balance of the world, those characters had to stay inside, and everyone else had to stay outside. That was the order of things.
Her boots crunching against the sand, Megan slowly walked up behind Heart Throb and laid a hand on her head.
Heart Throb’s ears drooped, and she heaved a great groan. “Don’t do this to me, Megan. Anything but this.”
“You can’t live in a fairy tale, Heart Throb,” Megan whispered. “You know that.”
“Why, Megan? If you must lay down some new rule, can’t you allow for just one exception?”
“Then every other pony will want to be an exception.”
“But why are you doing this?”
Megan dropped to her knees, wrapped her arms around Heart Throb’s neck, and pressed a cheek against her mane. “You know why. Everything I do is for you.”
“You never had to help us, you know,” said Heart Throb. “Whenever we asked, you could have said no.”
“No,” Megan answered, “I couldn’t.” She squeezed Heart Throb more tightly. “You are my little ponies, and whatever I have to do to protect you, I will do.” She swallowed a lump and felt a tear coursing down her face. “Even if I have to hurt you.”
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OMGYES!
Ahem...sorry I couldn't help myself I swear. This is truly an incredible fic. Partly because of how eloquently written it is but also because of how much of my childhood has been wrapped up in it.
In a way it feels fitting to have the ponies I grew up with as a child grow up too. It's a touch bittersweet but I'd be lying if I never said I made my ponies do dark and terrible things in my journeys with them. I recall them dying and fighting as much as I remember them being silly and happy go lucky.
I honestly cannot thank you enough for writing this. The time you take and the care you put into representing Megan and the ponies and their history really shines through.
"Almost an hour later" is an interjection, so it needs commas on both sides of it.
2075737
Thanks.
Hmm... so the three tribes split because of Megan. Wonder how she would feel knowing they went to war with each other and brought the Windigos.
2075845
Probably about as bad as she's already feeling. I haven't been real nice to her in this story.
2075855
Well good. It will make it all the sweeter when she has a complete and total meltdown.
2075697
Thank you. It is gratifying and flattering to hear you say so. Writing this has been a trip down memory lane for me as well.
J. R. R. Tolkien once noted that children tell long, involved epics about their dolls. I think all children have death and darkness in their childhood play-pretend worlds. The original My Little Pony, in spite of its many and obvious flaws, captures the extent of children's make-believe in a way I've seen in few other works; the stark contrast between the bright world of rainbows and butterflies on the one hand and the cruel evil of characters like Tirek and Grogar on the other, with all the strange maundering, fairy tale monsters, and thrown-together pop culture references in between, really captures the landscape of a child's imagination.
And Wind Whistler continues to be best G1!pony.
As a side note, it might be interesting to know that the comics did include a few other male ponies. They lived up in the mountains though, so the Little Ponies probably went and got them after Megan's re-ordering of their society. There was also Barnacle, the pirate pony, who everypony loved.
I can't help but think that Applejack is going to be both the best and worst pony for Megan to groom. On one hand, she is probably the one that can relate best to Megan, and would be the least troublesome of the six. On the other hand, she looks almost exactly like one of the Dream Valley ponies, and wow will that make it hard for Megan. (Though Twilight Sparkle is remarkably similar to Twilight, and if Megan ever meets, or sees a picture of TS's mother...)
2076023
I missed those stories.
Let's not also forget the town full of ponies where Knight Shade the rock star pony lives.
2076057
Point. Though, were they referred to as ponies in the episode? I can't recall. They definitely aren't Little Ponies, that's for sure, given the different body and muzzle shapes, and the lack of cutie marks. I wonder if they might have been donkeys?
2076121
Knight Shade's song includes the lyrics, "I'm a talkin' little pony." He is apparently a pony of some sort, if perhaps of a different breed from the little ponies. It seems most of the animals in G1 were talking animals in any case.
Boils down to the fact that the G1's queen treated her ponies like children. Magically feeding them, sheltering them, even providing their offspring-- and consequently they never matured. Grown stallions playing with toys; grown mares playing at tea parties and dress-up. What Megan did was pretty much what any post-apocalyptic society would have to do-- set aside a great number of social norms for the sake of survival.
Save in one regard. SHe had no way of knowing that her words would have the force of Gospel carved in stone, of course, but her own bitterness about her father probably completely ruined the lives of countless generations of stallions. (Pet peeve of mine here; the constantly reemerging trope of a matriarchal, female dominated Equestria. It's terrible. And it generally is used by someone trying to make some latter-day feminist morality play. Puh-LEASE do not try to imply that G4 Equestria is a matriarchal society, when there is no evidence for it and plenty of evidence against it.)
Stellar chapter, easily the best yet, but... dang, those poor little ponies. The G1 world really was quite the crapsack, wasn't it?
2076278
I'm not interested in using it as a prop for a morality play, but because of the world-building potential, I admit I like the idea of a matriarchal Equestria, which I've described here.
2076367
Ah, glad to hear you think it's the best yet! I want them to keep getting better. I think I was right to put Rarity next instead of the pony I was originally planning.
I've probably gone far enough in darkening it up that this should be considered an AU G1. Even though I'm drawing on as much source material as I can get my hands on, I've coated everything with a heavy layer of grit.
Very nice chapter, though I have my own comments.
No offense to Horsegirl123 but I also did research into horses but as they live in the wild. First twins DO occur rarely but it is more of a negative occurrence, most of the time the mother and both foals die unless one of the fetal horses is aborted. However a successful birthing of both twins occurs in about one in every nine cases of twins, still you have better chances of winning the lottery than having surviving twin foals.
Second in the wild while there is a boss stallion the herd is led by a first mare of sorts who establishes a pecking order in which each mare is ranked and that rank determines who gets first access to breeding and who eats or drinks first when streams or food sources are small. The lead female runs at the head of the herd while the stallion runs at the back in order to fend off predators coming from behind. The big brothers remind me of a bachelor herd, a group younger stallions who do not have an established herd that group together until they can find a herd and often challenge the current stallion for his position in the herd. In short female dominance in the wild is the rule, usually because there are more of them (about one male born for every ten to twenty females).
Megan started the three tribes an unavoidable evil once you think about it. Still this might have also lead to the seaponies and merponies (there were figures for more fish like seaponies) living in Aquastria as will be shown in a upcoming G4 storybook and maybe the flutter ponies being cursed to become changelings, a popular fan theory.
2076450
For the record, all errors in the tale or the notes are my own and nobody else's. I think our esteemed fact-checker meant what you've here said, that survival of mother and twins is extremely unlikely.
Your description of herd structure matches my own understanding, and in another work I'm slowly putting together, I'm using that as my basic excuse for a matriarchal Equestria. I agree that a bachelor herd probably is a better analogy to what we actually see in the old cartoon (not that the old cartoon, or the new one for that matter, is especially interested in depicting horses accurately), but it didn't fit quite as well with what I was doing here, so I tweaked it.
Nice job. I am surprised at how easy Rarity was compared to my expectations of this chapter. As for the assertion that most children's games include death or darkness of some sort, I guess I am an exception. I liked the heroic side too much to invite horrors upon them, and should the shows place them in danger, I would declare my willingness to help them to the TV. I am a bit of an oddball. Now that that's out of the way, are you jumping in on the prompt this month?
2076419
I hate it, because it always sucks.
It ignores basic realities for the sake of a feminist morality play. Said play is always one of two varieties: "See how much better women would run the world," or the "Role reversal, see how YOU like it." Both stink on ice, because both are pandering to bitter angry misandrists, and both ignore the objective reality that the differences between women and men and their roles in society are not just artificial cultural constructs. There are physical, mental, emotional, biological roots, going all the way back to the hunter-gatherer dichotomy, that are not ignored without dire social consequences.
And NOBODY who writes such fiction is willing to sit down and do any study on the real issues behind the matter, because they've got a she-ra sermon to preach and damn the facts, full speed ahead.
2076633
I have what I think is a great idea for the prompt for this month, but I also want to complete the next chapter of this. I suppose I'll decide at writing time tomorrow. Maybe I could churn out my story for the prompt quickly. It's a mostly silly idea, but as silly ideas always do, it's turned more introspective and dark in my head already. It will include at least one scene of Twilight Sparkle taking tea with Chief Gelding Parsnip (my recurring OC) and discussing the meaning of masculinity. Also, sea ponies.
2076683 Fantastic. Mine should contain a beauty pageant. Also, a beaver.
2076671
Never read such a story myself, but I don't disbelieve you. At any rate, I am a philogynist but not a misandrist, and I'd like to invent a matriarchal Equestria that is thoughtful about how roles might be divided, and which draws at least loosely on the behavior of real horses. When I get such a story done, perhaps you'd be willing to give it a chance and, who knows? Maybe it will exceed your expectations.
Great work as usually.
2076671
My experience with the matriarchal Equestria trope is purely with it being used as a background element for flavor in the expanded setting, or for a joke here and there. Your assertion that all fanfics which visibly deviate from human gender roles are preachy is absurd. I'm not going to even get into how radically different gender-associated behavior can be between different species, or the marginalizing effects of civilization and sapient intelligence on those roles, or the basic premise from which the trope is usually derived in these fanfics. That's all irrelevant to the fact that you don't have to make any kind of statement with a detail like that for it to be mentioned, nor do you even have to make it an important detail of the setting for the purpose of the story.
I'm just going to tell you that this is a really weird pet peeve to rant about, and that I find the reasoning to be kinda half-baked.
Joke's on you! I don't know what an amniotic sac looks like!
Wow. Just wow. I honestly did not see that coming.
I wonder, just how much influence megan has had shaping the world the ponies live in, because it sounds like she laid the groundwork for modern equestrian civilization.
Though this makes me think, if she may have something to do with a certain spirit of disharmony. Afterall, we don't know how old he is, or where he came from. Also about whether some of the older villians may still be alive in tarturus, I mean, 5,000 years is a long time to hold a grudge, or to build one, whichever the case may be.
Thus you have once again proven yourself the archaeologist of the fandom. Your research into the deep history of MLP and your attempts to synthesize that with what is currently known really do bare a striking similarity to actual scientific speculation. I really appreciate your effort to bring the past of the pony universe to light. Keep up the good work!
2077245
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/5/55/Amnion.jpg/250px-Amnion.jpg
You're welcome!
The ponies here are much more horse like than most portray them and even more than in the show itself.
- I admit, I laughed my balls off at this (no gelding jokes!).
And the ponies wearing tack... I like the idea way more than I should. One problem, MLP:FiM ponies have much smaller muzzles than real horses.
Finally, WTF is up with Rarity and always trying to get an unfortunate Human to wear a saddle? I've seen it in several fanfics already. Is that like a running gag or something?
2077902
Well, there's Squirk, an immortal sea monster (octopus/squid type, not sea serpant) who ruled Dream Valley when it was underwater, an undetermined amount of time ago. He had an artifact called the Flashstone, (think supercharged Alicorn Amulet) which was taken from him by a shapeshifting bird. Squirk was willing and able to wait until the present day for the bird to grow old enough that he could capture him, and reclaim the artifact. In the end, Megan smashed the Flashstone on the ground, destroying it, and Squirk was trapped in an underwater cavern. So, one angry, immortal (unaging) sea monster out for revenge, and who knows what he's found since then.
Then there's Grogar, who is basically everything that Sombra wishes he could be. In the end, Megan temporarily nullified his powers, which caused a ritual he was conducting to backfire on him, trapping him in the Realm of Darkness for an indeterminate amount of time (the previous time, it was for five hundred years, but that may or may not be a consistent thing.)
Most of the other villains were mortal, or were killed off like Tirac and Lavan were. Who knows what ended up in Tartarus, but there's no shortage of baddies to deal with, if the pattern held after Megan left.
An IWIWer compiled a list of dangers in Ponyland shown in the TV series, of which my three favorites are
"-The natural order of things: I'm not sure how this affects Dream Valley itself, but where Flutter Valley is concerned, its natural state is that of an inhospitable land where vegetation cannot grow. The only reason this place isn't like that is because the Sunstone maintains it...And removing the Sunstone for long enough (say, one freaking day) could wreck the place irreparably.
-Random magical artifacts that show up with no instruction manual: One of these nearly wiped out all life from Dream Valley by accident. So, yeah. Dangerous. Status: God knows how many more of these are lying around.
-A forest of evil trees that grow sharpened projectiles out of their own bodies and attack intruders on sight (yes, sight). Status: Still active, but stationary. Just...don't wander into the wrong forest."
Regarding Discord? I, personally have some headcanon as to how he might be connected to G1, but really, he's pretty much on par with G1's apocalyptic level villains, and they just kinda showed up. I'm not sure if he even needs any explanation beyond something like 'got back from vacation, and there were ponies everywhere, so he decided to have some fun with them.'
2077944 OMG WHY WOUD YOU POST THET?!?!?!?!?
Poor Megan really is on the verge of a nervous breakdown, isn't she? A 13- or 14-year-old girl should never have been in the position that she was placed in and, of course, because she's never been able to talk to anyone about it, she's never had a chance to heal. Instead, she ended up internalising and bottling up all her repressed guilt, fear, trauma and other bad things. I do think that the Mane Six are going to be in the position of ending up having to save her this time around (something that would create a lovely 'bookend' feel to the story).
The interaction with Rarity was interesting because, in the end, for all she's vain, shallow and something of a drama queen, I think that Rarity is really a very intelligent pony. She's the one who's had the courage to see beyond the legend of Magog to see the very real, very mortal and very fallible human girl Megan. A girl who has had to be strong for so long that she's an iron shell around a ball of personal emotional agony.
I think that Fluttershy will too, when she thinks of a time when she has had to give mercy to one of her animal friends who was beyond the help of equine medicine.
And that is why being a leader sucks sometimes. You have to hurt your best friends, perhaps in a way that is beyond forgiveness, because not to hurt them is to betray them and all the other people who look to you for a future.
2078111
I honestly didn't know that was a thing. I would assume most other writers have come up with it the same way I did: saddles are part of Equestrian fashion, so if Rarity thinks about designing human clothing, she begins with Equestrian models, and it doesn't occur to her that humans might not want to wear saddles.
2078837
The oddest thing about saddles in Equestria: with nobody to ride them the way they are meant to, it is surprising the tradition to have saddles integrated into most clothing survived in the first place. I suppose part of it can be chalked up to the convenience/comfort when carrying stuff on their back - more stable and comfortable than putting cargo/babies/whatever directly on bare skin..
2078927
Ooh yes, that's good. Saddles started off as just a simple pad or blanket to help carry stuff, and then at some point the Equestrian fashion industry got hold of them and turned saddles into purely decorative garments, ones that clearly have no possible functional use.
2078193 better yet, why did you click that link?
Rarity is really bucking hard for best pony status in this chapter. Not that Rarity would be so unladylike to buck hard in the first place. Metaphorical bucking, so that speak.
Great chapter, must I say. Although a question has come to my mind recently. In AJ's part, do you plan to mention her dead parents? I would assume so, but it doesn't hurt to ask.
2081193
I honestly don't know yet.
I really am enjoying this and also didn't expect the division of the breeds to originate in such a manor. But I have to ask, where do you get all your pony COMIC knowledge? This is beyond even my immense nerdosity. This is such an inspiration and I look forward to each chapter.
2081823
Although I generally frown on bootlegs, I have made recourse to the blog Heck Yeah, Pony Scans!, as I figure I would have no other access to the comics unless I were to start haunting collectors' cons and shelling out tons of money, and I suppose the original creators of these comics have already received all the compensation they were to get in any case.
Just for the record, I am in this story considering the whole of the G1 film franchise (the two TV specials, the movie, and the television series) to be "canon," but I'm picking and choosing what I want from the comics or toy line and ignoring the rest, though I point out in the notes what I deliberately contradict, at least when I'm aware of it.
2081218
Oh ok, thanks for letting me know anyway.
I truly enjoyed this chapter - lots of drama, lots of worldbuilding, well-thought out integration between g1 and g4, and you have spot-on interpretations of my two favorite ponies, Rarity and Wind Whistler.
2080147 two word: Scumbag Brain.
Nuf said.
Another basically strong chapter. Your prose is polished as ever, your character voice is typically spot-on, and the quirky pony mythology you're building out of the hybridization of generations is charming as always. Something seems a bit off-kilter about the emotional build, but I can't quite put my finger on it. I think Megan's very first reaction to Rarity feels a little overwrought; I understand that she's not showing it, but inwardly, she goes from zero to full bottom-falling-out-of-the-gut emotional freefall in about no seconds flat. By the time she finally loses it at Rar and goes running off holding back tears, the emotion's kind of lost and the crying seems to come out of nowhere. It would be better to have Megan bullheadedly suppressing her feelings for some time and only later succumbing to emotional freefall, putting it in closer proximity to her bugout moment and assuring that that there's a steady build to an actual emotional climax point.
But, um, I don't know the character. This is just my gut talking.
Wow, rarely do I see a fanfic so heavily researched. I mean whether or not you get it right or not, the effort alone is impressive. I know little of G1 but there seems to be a lot of subcatagories of ponies. I'm guessing Megan's organization of the ponies into the three tribes led to them all breeding into those three types and all the subgroups were eventually bred out.
I'm really unsure about the main plot device and arc, how Twi and co are all holding the Idiot Ball to think that the best way to introduce Equestria to Terra Mundus Erde is via a entertainment venue which capitalises on the exploitation of Ponies and Horses. This plot device seems to be more at heart with a light-hearted slapstick then the current story which is more emotionally investing despite it's comedic effects.
However, on that note, I do really love the sub-plot here; how the stage was being set for the Hearthwarming mythology, what became of Generation One et al.
I can empathise with Megan at this point, she was thrust into a situation beyond what she knew, became the defacto leader by virtue of being the least personally invested and that same criteria means she must remain their leader despite long ago becoming VERY personally invested.
She was removed from the scene for some time and now from a third person source, can see the forest for the trees. (Or rather, the forest from the trees she planted.)
What I'm most interested in here is how this will continue to pan out from here.
Megan earlier was pretty certain that her little ponies would always need her, that's a rather maternal attitude for her to have.
Despite the fact that millennia have past and the ponies forever become stronger as a people and a nation, despite that her solution to save Pony kind almost led to their destruction in what could best be described as
'Cold Civil War', despite how Megan has become rather tertiary to her little ponies (a religious figure and that's pretty much it), she still can't remove herself from being their mother.
I avidly await the future chapters.
Lavender
2083702 silly!
You are a much more tenacious researcher than I am. I doubt I would do research to this depth on anything that didn't immediately relate to G4. I'm learning things today!
“Pink!” Rarity wailed. “Oh, it’s horrid!”
Rarity, you're mothers pink. I get you like you're father coat, but you don't need to whine about it..
And i can see the historian getting rid of that tidbit. After all they moved from a herd mentality to a only one husband and bride mentality.
and i really feel sorry for heartthrob.
btw a scene from the current mlp comic
http://issuu.com/idwpublishing/docs/mlp_003-pr?mode=window&viewMode=doublePage
Green called you "archaeologist of the fandom"
This is quite an apt description. I'm not familiar with any of the previous generations of MLP myself, but I can appreciate a well researched fanfic and this is one of them. Color me impressed. It would have been very easy to fall into an exposition trap on the background and past-actions of Megan, but you weave them very closely with current events. I will undoubtedly continue to keep an eye on this fic.I think you've done what many thought to do (and I've seen threads of people trying) - bridging the gaps between g1 and g4 - but in a holistic way that I never thought anyone could.